You're a Masterpiece (BOOK 1)

Chapter 7

AN: hello, loves!! please do not be ghost readers <3

Art was many things, but they weren't stupid.

No matter what Mama hollered at them or whatever the fuck their ex-best friends drilled into their heads—Art Mendoza was not stupid. Sure, sometimes they were reckless. And, yes, their procrastination habits got out of control sometimes. Maybe they were also an advocate of speak first, think later, but...

They weren't stupid.

Well, most of the time.

Look. They studied. They danced. They trained. They argued with Coach Luis. They argued with Shade. They laughed with Chase. They did their homework—or, more accurately, asked Jennie for answers—acted considerably well for the awkward roleplay projects, submitted most of their papers on time, and earned a decent amount of money by asking people to pay for their calligraphy services.

Also, they were progressing favorably well with the dance team! They've learned a lot in a short amount of time, like how to control the flow of their body and how to break their groove in the middle of a beat drop. They've been developing their dance style, and Kuya Caloy has praised them more than once for Art's capability to switch between feminine seduction and masculinely Bsharp moves.

So, they were vibin'.

Art wore their knee pads. And came to school on time. And cried through their tests. And cheated. And snapped at Shade's parebros once or twice for being ignorant fucking dumbasses. They've skipped a meal or two because of the heavy workload, but all was smooth sailing because exams were rolling in. That meant they had to survive this week, and after that, they'd have time to breathe.

So, they were okay. It was already Friday tomorrow! They made it together in one piece, even though they were a lot more tired and on the verge of collapse every few moments.

But, hey. An achievement was an achievement, no matter how big or small. So, that was why they were eating Cheetos at two in the morning as a tiny way of reward and celebration... But also because they needed all the unhealthy yet energy-boosting food to get them through the night—for the debate was tomorrow.

And they haven't started shit.

Fucking hurray, right?

Art sighed heavily. The blank word document was a fucking mockery, to be honest. Their group mates were done with their speeches, and as Art stumbled their way through their well-crafted, lyrical wording—Art realized the speeches were written by the one and only Shade Flaurante. 

That made a lot of sense. There was no way shallow-brained James could use the word clandestine, and Art didn't think Josh had the vocabulary to fully articulate and justify his homophobia.

(Shade had a below-the-table business for cheating your way into the honor roll with perfectly-scored papers. He charged two-hundred-fifty pesos for editing one motherfucking page, and the rates skyrocketed when you wanted him to write the paper for you. But who was Art to judge? They respected the hustle.)

(Also their group mates were fucking idiots. Why the fuck would you ask the leader of the opposing team to write your debate speech? How hungry were the worms in their brains?)

Why should Art bother, to be honest?

They didn't care about their grades in Araling Panlipunan ((Social Studies)) anyway. Fuck, they loved studying about society and learning more about various issues—but Sir Dominic could make anyone feel unmotivated.