The Wish To Live {A Cell phone novel By Vyria}

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Sir, that's- you've misunderstood. That's co-director. Naturally the person who will be directing and managing the event will be me and Cara will be my co-director."

It's a good argument. It's made better by the fact that Shane is the one delivering it. But Sir Mata Mata just stares at her nonplussed.

"That list is based on the roles I told, correct?"

"Correct but-"

"Then there's no misunderstanding. Cara is the director." Ooooh, flat out dismissal. That's gotta hurt. 

"But Sir I've always been the director for these kind of things. Club activities, extracurricular activities, you name it. I was the director last year - and the event was a success- so it only makes sense that I would be the director this year as well. Plus when I wrote that down, I didn't think you meant director as in director! I thought it was co- director-"

"Since you had already assumed that you were going to be director. But, unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case and, Shane, arguing about it will not change reality, it'll just waste my time and everyone else's." Sir Mata Mata says quickly but firmly even as Shane wrenches open her mouth to argue.

"Now, Cara. What. Do. You. Think?"

It's like someone's doing a silent drum roll. Breaths are pulled in, chests puff out and the air becomes heavy with expectation and everyone turns to look at Cara.

But then something wonderful happens. Rather than shrinking under the pressure and strain, Cara pulls herself together, straighten her back and says with conviction:

"It won't be fair to re cast the ballots or have a voting system simply because we're unhappy with the results. But if the person himself is unhappy with their role then I think forcing someone to do what they don't want to is also wrong. So if someone does not want to carry out the role they have been given, they should speak up and we'll then assign them another."

And in that split second where Shane looks confused and MM is opening his mouth to speak, I spot an undeniable flicker of a smile on Sir Mata Mata's face.

"Host, then. And Co host. Ben?" MM says, pointedly looking at his best friend.

Ben shrugs. "I don't really care much about these things. Do what you want."

"So we can switch roles. I'll be the host and Ben'll do- what? Oh yeah labor work. And... Savanna?"

When my name is called, i stand up, reflexively, and so end up drawing even more attention to myself. The words, "Yeah, me too," are on the tip of my tongue- I don't plan on being any more of a burden than I already have been. I mean, think about it. The whole reason for this fight was me. Everyone was willing to accept all the other results. It was just mine that was prickling like a thorn by their side.

I could not be allowed to be a co- host. I would mess up.

But, and I supposed this is part of a human's nature: the natural instinct to survive: As my eyes roamed over the scene before me seeking for a warm reception, an accepting pair of eyes, they meet and collide with Sir Mata Matas'. And in that collision, in that seemingly simple visual connection, I receive a rather confusing set of signals.

No.

Don't give up.

Fight. 

Fight for what you want.

"Yea- No. No, I'll do it. I want to do it. I'll try my best. Please let me be a co-host."

And the rejection and anger I see reflected back at me makes me regret, instantly, my words.

***

I sat under the tree, hugging my legs. I was hiding from the wrath of my classmates and from life in general. Who knows, it might expect to fly next time round and, again failing expectations, I might fall and die.

No.

No, I'll definitely fall and die.

Mulling over everything that had occurred since that morning didn't help. Each time I recounted my words, the urge to apologize and take it all back hit me like a cement brick in the head. God, i was such a people pleaser. The only thing that stopped me, was still stopping me, was Sir Mata Mata. I had not mistaken that look, I know I hadn't. And since I had promised myself to do my best for him (in exchange for the lollipop) my best is what I would do. Even if, despite being at my best, I still sucked terribly. 

There were words etched into the ground.

At first I thought I was seeing things but I wasn't. Somebody had etched words into the ground with a flat stick. I had rubbed out most of them with my shoes but those I hadn't lay artistically crafted on the floor, beaming up at me:

...know what you did in the dark...
Light em-up.....................................

There were music symbols drawn all over as if someone had repeatedly carved them out absentmindedly. Doodles. I was staring at someone's doodles.

A trick popped into my head. I tore a piece of paper from my notebook and, after scrawling the words: 'I'm lonely. What about you?', dug a hole and buried it into the paper. Using a stick, just as the person had before me, I drew about a dozen arrows around it, all making them point to the mound.

After thinking for a while, I even stuck a stick with a leaf on it. A flag.

Who knows? Maybe I'd make a new friend.