Reprimanded Soul

Part 2

CHAPTER 4 [000000000000001111]                              

The guy studies her face, just to draw a conclusion whether this Tessica is human or not. From the elegance  of her skin, the  creamy tone of a chocolate muffin , you could tell the sun shone everyday upon her, our sun. You could bet she takes a bath just like us, with the same hydrogen oxide. Tessica after all is very feminine, with a slopping chest, curving hips, and all that which an eye can see and comprehend. She didn’t seem to have the capability to hold a gun and shot someone, she seemed vulnerable, very innocent yet very easy to be taken advantage of.

She notices the ongoing stare, for he has been sitting there for quite some time, the only movement being in his eyes. She’s curious, ‘what can be in his mind now?’ , she chocked, her lips now failing to completely stay closed, not moving. She’s beautiful, but she’s not confident with eye contacts, you look at her, she looks away and wait for you to look away too.

‘Gentleman, what do you observe’, Tessica asks,  perpetuating an impressive smile any guy can lure on.
‘I’m just assuming, if you weren’t black, and your face was paled, and your eyes didn’t fit to scale, and your chicks were not crystal clear, and your hair was not that good, would I still think you are weird enough to be an alien?’ , he muttered with a bellyached voice, that one which retorts you softly, and make you fall under a spell , the witch voice, the pastor’s voice … it’s just a persuasive voice and you know, the good and evil use it too.

‘Is that your way of saying I’m the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?’, she asks, flattered already.
‘you might not be a girl after all, you might be an alien , but if you are human, then my answer is yes’, he replies, looking at his watch now.

She has started to fall for his temperate voice that sneaks out compliments , and the thought that she’s the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. Tessica has herself in the juggle of thoughts, painting what could potentially be a worthwhile friendship with the guy.

‘I’ve not finished with my observations, Miss. How about a walk after school?’ He said standing up from the bench, watching the educators looming around the classrooms after the bell rang.
She hadn’t said yes already, but the guy had already turned away, running to avoid being bathed with a pipe by one educator that owns a laboratory just next to the staff room.
Wait, she’s not at ease too, but that’s not because the bathers or educators are locomoting towards her direction for a direct interrogation, she knows how to get them as long as she sits under that tree.
‘Gentleman, you forgot to tell me your name’, she muttered gently to the guy twenty metres from her now, still running, so the distance just gets wider.
‘I’ll tell you the next time we meet’, he replied with a fading voice, stumbling as he finally gets his limbs in the classroom for the studies session, the last session of the day.

Tessica is left alone, listening to the breeze the wind has to utter, watching the shadow changing every second as the leafs follow the wind’s direction. It’s a sophisticated nature, the gist of which we can’t comprehend. The language the wind uses to that tree, it has to be Chinese by level of difficulty.
The bathers approach her, not scared of how stunning she is though they have so much respect for her. She scored total in her past tests so …they are ought to show a bit of favoritism.

‘Why are you here even after the bell?’ a peacock voice seems to howl holding a thick pipe waiting to bath it upon her.
‘Short breaths Sir, there’s not much air in class, should I stay there at this dead of day, I’d faint’ , she replied with a not so different voice from the one that called upon her.
‘That is misconduct, we can’t tolerate that! , if you aren’t feeling good, we have to send you home’, the principal howled from the background, passing by.
‘Asthma, it’s just asthma, I should be fine soon to go to class’, she replies sending her eyes back to the diary upon her hands.
‘at least be studying, not paging that diary , and should this happen again, we’ll send you home’, the peacock voice added, turning away to the lower classes ,chasing the souls that still wondered in the open.