Queen
"Not again, please," I whimpered under my breath as I stayed frozen solid on my seat. I was pretending to be completely focused on my Lit professor yapping away at the front but in truth, I was anything but focused.
Who in the world would be, when your ballpoint pen and steno pad were floating in the freaking air underneath your table as if it was the most normal thing? Like it was a common daily occurrence? Like this was a bad imitation of a Harry Potter movie and Hermione Granger was doing a Wingardium Leviosa spell on my poor, lifeless things?
Definitely not me, and fudge if I didn't want to scream in terror at the top of my lungs right now. If this scenario wasn't anything that could deter a college student's steadfast dedication to listen to every lesson, I didn't know what did.
A thoroughly amused chuckle reverberated in the room. Again. As loud as it sounded, I knew I was the only one who heard it, seeing as how the other students remained focused on Ms. Lester and her discussion. Not even a single strand of their hair reacted, only mine.
This realization made me somehow wish I were like them. I so envied their ability to be deaf to the unearthly sounds the world makes sometimes.
'You look ready to piss your pants, Quincy Marshall,' a breathy voice spoke right in my ear. Goosebumps erupted at that spot of my body and I fought the ridiculous urge to burst into tears. 'Or skirt, whatever you want to call that thing you're wearing.'
"Stop, please…" I begged as sincerely and as quietly as I could without alerting my nearby classmates and sounding too much like a five-year-old, of which the only problem was that I sounded exactly like one. I found that I didn't exactly care at the moment. "Leave me the hell alone."
There was a sigh. Some tendrils of my curled locks grazed my left cheek as that short breath of cold air washed over me like a stifling blanket. I shivered.
'You don't ever listen, do you?' the ice-cold voice said. 'I thought I already mentioned that you and I, we have now an unbreakable bond. It's impossible for me to leave. You. Alone.'
I shut my eyes tight. "Stop. I'm begging you…"
'Ooh, let's ask the begging girl. What is it exactly that I should stop, pray tell?'
"Terrorizing me."
Another echoed laugh, this time sardonic. 'Oh, this is a first. The last girl I gave my full attention to never mentioned this was some form of terrorism. She even loved that I had eyes only for her.'
"Well, I don't!" My voice was a severe whisper but I could tell it was only a matter of seconds before I started yelling. "A ghost's attention is never a welcome thing for me, never!"
'That's sad. Because you're not really getting rid of me, not before you give me what I need.'
I managed to be more frozen that I already was. This conversation cannot be happening in real life. I mean, what could a wandering ghoul possibly need from a regular college girl like me? Did I look like I carried ghost food with me all the time?!
"You cold?"
I was startled at the warm hand that touched my forearm, so startled that my eyes shot open so wide I probably looked like I was caught red-handed doing something very bad. I looked behind to see Franco giving me a funny look. "You just shivered like mad right there, Quin."
"I-I'm fine," I barely managed through my trembling lips. "Ignore me, please." Heck, I didn't say that last bit just for Franco.
And just my luck, when I turned my attention back to the front, a pair of green, emotionless eyes met mine. Ms. Lester. Oh, no! And she looked like she was waiting for me to say something in answer to a query I didn't even hear.
Thanks a lot, Franco. I mentally sent him a truckload of fudging kicks in the shin for distracting me like that. Oh, right. It wasn't like I wasn't already distracted.
"Well, Ms. Marshall?" Ms. Lester prompted when I was still looking blankly at her after five seconds. "What can you say about it?"
I couldn't help a huge swallow. "Miss?" How embarrassing. I could feel several other pairs of eyes and raised eyebrows my way. "Could you repeat the question, please?"
It was hard not to feel down at the disapproval in the way professor pursed her thin lips. She probably figured I wasn't listening at all but because of what, she didn't know. It's not like I could tell her, right?
Ms. Lester's hard gaze flitted away from me then traveled around the room. "Would anyone want to repeat the question for Ms. Marshall's sake?"
This was downright humiliating. I could already hear the rumblings of my classmates' minds—finally, our Little Miss Teacher's Pet is rendered speechless by a very simple question. Alright, people! In case you didn't know, no matter how simple a question is, it doesn't matter if you didn't hear it in the first place!
Don't get me wrong, though. It wasn't like Literature 101 was one of the most typically boring, uninteresting subjects I had for this semester. Absolutely not. In fact, it was one of my favorites along with English 3C and Accounting 17 (my high school homeroom teacher Ms. Argon would be so proud, yikes!). And today, we were discussing a rather tragic yet very intriguing short piece written by a certain Amador Daguio.
The Wedding Dance.
Okay, I admit I wasn't too thrilled with how it was going so far. This one wasn't quite the kind of love story I was normally used to. The domestic unfairness and twistedness of the treatment of women back in the day made all the glaring difference. I was trying to wrap my head around the fact why Awiyao, the main male character, needed to marry another woman even though he clearly loved Lumnay, the main female character. The answer was obvious enough: she couldn't bear a child. And back then, a woman's worth was gauged based on that fact alone. Sick, I tell you.
But overall, in terms of literary importance, it was a pretty good one in an obviously classic way, and I would have loved every minute of this discussion if only the word 'distraction' was never invented to perpetually challenge the gullibility of the human mind. Something else that didn't have anything to do with Awiyao and Lumnay's failed love story was bothering me, and right this very moment, it was all that filled my frazzled mind.
'I believe she asked you if you think Awiyao should end up with Lumnay or the other woman,' a cold, amused voice echoed in my right ear. 'In my opinion, he should just end up with neither. He's better off by himself. Those women only want him for his title and money anyway. They didn't really love him.' Grey, transparent eyes stared unblinkingly back in mine. 'Don't you agree, Quincy Marshall?'
"I—"
The bell rang, saving me from having to answer either Ms. Lester or the pesky ghost. I shook my head and swallowed a mouthful of saliva that had collected at the back of my throat. As much as I physically ached to tell Professor just what I thought about Awiyao's choice of woman and discuss further in great detail every pro and con of such choice, no words could come out of my mouth, not when a grinning, see-through, pale face was hovering only inch away from mine.
"G-go away," I stammered through gritted teeth, ignoring him and the strange way he stared at me, shoved my things inside my bag and prepared to bolt from the lecture room to get away to a quiet, peaceful place and get my head straight back on before I completely lost my mind.
Ms. Lester, however, had other ideas.
"Miss Marshall?" Her authoritative voice rang loud and clear in the now-empty room. "Would you come see me for a second?"
'Oooh, someone is in trouble.' Ghost Boy sniggered while he walked—floated, glided, whatever—confidently beside me.
"Mind your own business!" I hissed before going to stand in front of the teacher's table, my heartbeat double-timing in my chest as I awaited what my esteemed professor had to say to me.
Whatever this was about, I hoped and prayed it wasn't about my lack of attention and reponse earlier because if it was...then I might have some exorcising to do so it didn't happen again next time.
Just you wait, Ghost Boy. I would get rid of you soon enough.
~~~~~