Bookworms | ✔

fifteen

His classmates chattered around him, their voices in high shrills and squeaks. Girls gawking at a group of boys, who shamelessly flirted, puffing their chests and talking in deeper masculine voices. Their lips curled into vicious smirks that hid the vulgar words behind them. Nicholas almost laughed at how pathetic they all looked. 

These women were desperate for attention, they breathed in praise, especially when they needed a man's approval to be satisfied. It was disgusting in Nicholas's eyes. These were the same people who fought for feminism, yet they used their bodies as a way to seek acknowledgement. Their painted lips spoke lies, filling the world with dishonesty and terrible morals. 

These men thrived off of a woman's ardor. They twisted and played with their hearts, making skyscrapers out of tears and cathedrals out of texts. They laughed about heartbreak, misery, and love. All they saw was a sexual release and these women allowed them to take advantage of it.

What could Nicholas expect?

The world was in chaos, countries fighting, terrorism rising, and people put the blame on the wrong minorities. Every leader became a coward, unable to take responsibility for their actions. They ran into the jaws of defeat, clawing at those who defied them, stabbing at those who dared to tell them otherwise. They killed, plundered, and looted beautiful cities. Nicholas felt a twinge of pain as he gazed around his class. 

"Settle down, everyone," rumbled a firm voice. All eyes went to the man with salt and pepper hair, his wrinkles creasing his skin as a frown was placed upon his lips. "I am Professor Jerikson, your Literature teacher," he introduced.

The class had taken their seats, mumbling under their breaths about college. Nicholas didn't feel their distaste. He knew that Professor Jerikson was a profound teacher. He had heard many good reviews about him, especially from Elijah. Nicholas sighed. He had no one to talk to or at least that was what he thought. 

The doors barged open, jerking Nicholas in his seat to see who the intruder was. A girl slightly panted as she ran up the steps, her sweater hugging her curvaceous figure. A heavy backpack slung over her shoulders. Nicholas's eyes widened when he noticed the lavender headscarf that was wrapped tightly around her head, tucking every stray hair away. Her cheeks flushed as Professor Jerikson glowered down at Dina. 

"Hey, Professor Jerikson," she nervously smiled, playing with the ends of her purple sweater. 

He narrowed his grayish-blue eyes at her even more. 

Dina bit down on her bottom lip, her brown eyes darting away from their teacher's scrutinizing gaze. A couple of snickers were heard behind him, followed by a chain of whispers. Nicholas clenched his fists, mentally willing the voices to go away before he did something. 

"Do you want to explain to me why you were late today?" asked Professor Jerikson. 

"Oh, that. Well, you see the public bus was running late, so I got on the next bus and took it to campus, but a girl was selling Twixs and you know you just can't let an opportunity like that go by. The problem was I was five cents short of the actual price, so I had to ravage through all my stuff and accidentally dropped my summer paper, which the wind started blowing away. After buying the Twix, I ran around campus trying to find it and then-" she rambled.

Nicholas couldn't stop the grin from coming across his features and from the looks of it, neither could Professor Jerikson. Their teacher stifled his own laughter as he continued to listen to her story. Dina's hands flailed around her while gesturing to every aspect of her morning. Her eyebrows scrunching up every once in a while when she spoke of her lost paper.  

"Did this really happen?" questioned Professor Jerikson with a smile. 

Dina blinked. "No, I just made it all up."

"Oh?"

"Of course it happened! Professor, I am deeply disappointed in you for not sensing my sarcasm. You're a literary teacher for heaven's sake. I have expectations!" she joked with a mocking look of anger. 

"Have a seat, young lady. Your antics will be the death of me," he sighed.

"Does this mean I'm off the hook for my amazing sense of humor?"

"Fine."

Dina smiled at him before running off into a vacant seat beside him. She didn't realize that Nicholas shared the class with her. He silently observed her as she took out her journal and pens. Her cheeks had a light pink from running earlier. He remembered the days that she ran to the library, her body fatigued and tired, yet her smile was as brilliant as ever. 

"Teacher's pet," muttered a girl behind them.

Dina turned in her seat, tilting her head at the brunette who kept her lips in a permanent pout. "Was that supposed to offend me?" 

Her jaw clenched, long nails scratching the table beneath. The girl was wise enough to keep her mouth shut, pursuing her lips as her green eyes glared at Dina. 

Dina shrugged, turning back around as she copied down some notes from the lecture. Nicholas couldn't pay attention, his blue eyes trained on the concentrated look that she wore. She didn't even glance in his direction, much to his disappointment, but Nicholas didn't mind it. He enjoyed admiring her from a distance. 

"Nemo, I know you're staring," she whispered as she gazed at him with a grin. 

A familiar heat crawled up the back of his neck and to his cheeks, the room suddenly felt a thousand degrees warmer, burning Nicholas. Her smile only widened, brightening the room with her presence. He never noticed the way her brown eyes lit up whenever she caught him staring. 

"I-I wasn't," he denied, bringing his eyes back to his paper.

"I thought we already discussed the subject of lying."

"I don't recall."

Dina said nothing more. Nicholas couldn't help but feel saddened by the fact that she didn't continue arguing with him, but he knew it was something else that bothered her. She gripped her pen a little tighter, hiding her eyes from him, and frowning. Her perfect smile had vanished and erased all traces of the elation she previously displayed. 

Did I hurt her?

He wanted to slap himself. Of course he did, he always messed up around Dina. Nicholas didn't understand why though. How did the Muslim girl beside him create such a helpless feeling throughout his tangled mind?

He forgot how to form complete sentences around her. He forgot how to breathe, speak, and remember tragedies all because of her. The world was her oyster and it seemed as if everyone knew it. 

Nicholas glanced at Dina one last time, memorizing the solemn expression painted across her features. Her cute button nose twitched in irritation. Her eyes burned mental holes through her paper, and then she sighed, letting out an exhaled breath. 

I'm sorry, he thought, I'm sorry that I'm not good enough. 

----

Currently, I'm in bed and dying of cramps. Lord, save my soul T-T

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