Perfect Illusion

Chapter - 1

“GOAL!!!”

“Shut up and sit still, or lose your hair; your wish.” As if you’re leaving any. I wanted to word my thoughts but controlled; not for the sake of my vanity but because she has the only source that was keeping me sane in this moment of torment; FIFA world cup 2014. And believe me; I would never want to miss a single action to it, not even for my locks.  

It was Neymar on the field working his wonders, gliding, flying with the ball and bouncing with such grace. I wanted Brazil to win, no needed it to win, rule the world of football. My eyes were set on him, following his every move, taking in his tactics, trying to learn. After all the next time it will be me winning against narcissist, Normand Dustbin - oops – Dustin Rikaart. “Ouch. Look at what you are doing.” I frantically rubbed top of my skull that experienced the harsh pull.

“Maybe if you’ll stop waving your stinking Brazil jersey off my head, I WILL.” As much as I disliked the first time I saw her this morning, I really am starting to hate her for calling my jersey stinky. Even though I have never washed it, and basically wore it on every Brazil match for past two years. It still had slight smell of camphor ... and sweat and stale water as if something died on it. I held my breath before it could go all the way in, created little distance between my nose and jersey, and glanced at a very smug looking Madelyn. I quickly recovered; it was not like I was going to accept defeat. Not twice in a row, not after my pride was just stomped by none other than Normand Dustbin.  

“Was Summer serious when she said, how good of a beauty expert you are? Because seriously all you have done since I was here was pull every single strand of hair off my body. If that’s what you call a beauty treatment then I am going to top the chart very soon.” Oh how much I am going to enjoy pulling, tearing, and then slowly one by one detaching black tresses off Dustbin’s head and throw them in garbage. Well that’s really ironic. I giggled mysteriously at my thoughts, when an angry snort and fading footsteps dragged me back to life.

In a normal circumstance I would have felt bad for thinking like this or for pissing Madelyn off to such extent; but I was not. Infact I was feeling really proud for keeping myself entertained at the time when my frustration level was at its peak.

Sitting here doing just nothing added to my frustrations but it also gave me enough time to plan my revenge suitably while remembering the very source of troubles.

 

Fifty-three

Fifty-four

Fifty-five

Fresh morning air caressed my sweaty salty self, fluctuating temperature from too hot to extreme cold and back again in the matter of seconds. I kept my focus on sweat beads that were travelling the length of my arm and down my legs, in order to maintain a constant temperature.

I have forgotten my counts several times in order to keep my mind from wondering, and again from one. But my mood and energy was way too high to be shattered by such meagre things. Also I knew these numbers were just distractions from slight aching feet.

One

Two

“Look! Princess Kruella herself, hopping on one legs.” Princess Kruella? Ahh no, no, no... Hoping my suspicion to be wrong I turned around to face Dustbin and some of the other quarterbacks.

Normand Dustin (Dustbin) Rikaart, a year senior, arrogant, narcissist ex-star student, and ofcourse best football player and ex-captain of our school. To my joy, a month back he was off to college to study journalism. My days and night were extremely gleeful without him being there to torture me. Also I was enjoying freedom off that wicked name “Kruella”.