Till The Count Of Five ✓

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I've known you for years. I'll remember you for decades. I won't let anyone else forget if I dream of you in every breath.

Kiara

23th April 2019, Tuesday
7:54

What was the worst thing when you were a Samaritan, the service person of the school council? The attention. The attention which I loved burnt me today, just like it has been for the past two weeks. Add onto it wearing the wrong dress that the school code prohibited. It was a blue dress day, meaning I was supposed to wear the school uniform. I wore my sports uniform. It was already embarrassing to go around the school in a shirt that read 'Go Greens' but when you wore it on a wrong day, you stood out of the crowd. As if I wasn't the centre of attention already.

My classmates asked me if I forgot the day. I didn't. I chose to wear this hideous all white horror with strips of green. The blue uniform - part royal blue, part cyan - was drenched in Ash. It had Ash's hand print on it from that one time.

I had been fooling around the corridors, skipping the sports class. Who liked sitting on the benches and kicking dust? I didn't. I had taken a round of the top floor, it was rarely given the pleasure to be walked upon by the staff, particularly the teachers. The stench from the Chemistry Lab as a result of a fiasco had kept the adults away. I had liked it on the other hand. The smell never warned you at first and then, out of nowhere, it would be floating in your nostrils. The top floor had also given me an excuse to cover up that day.

I had not seen the lab technician creeping out of the corner and next to me. "Good Morning," I had mumbled.

He had simply raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, it's afternoon, actually," The nervous laugh should have scared him.

"What are you doing here, kid?" He had questioned. "Wait, aren't you in the 10th batch? I remember seeing you in the lab once. Aren't you supposed to have P. T. right now?"

I had stood there dumbfounded, just like I was standing now, only this time, she wasn't here to help me out.

"Yes, she is supposed to but she's here to help me with this," she had said, coming out of the Art Room.

"Help you with what?"

"Can't you see?" She had rolled her eyes but managed to hide it by pretending to rub her eyebrow. My eyes had then noticed the paint on her hands. "I'm supposed to take those frames down to the Art Room after paints dry. The paints have dried but now my hands are occupied."

Before anyone could've thought, she had shoved her hands in front of the technician's face. He had stepped back and grunted, before walking down the stairs.

"How did he even know I have P. T.?"

Ash had given me a blank look, her usual 'the world is too dumb to even look at' kind. "He sits in the coordinator's office."

And they all had our time tables plastered on the notice board. "Thanks," I had said. "I should go now."

"No, you won't. You'll help me with those."

I had ended up doing heavy lifting while Miss Ashiamma had ordered me around, passing remarks on the colourful prints on my shirt. The acrylic paints continued to accompany me even after half a year and one class up.

Of course I didn't tell my classmates about the paints, or about her, I shrugged and moved on.

"Kiara."