***
P.O.V.
[HE]
Shit, shit, shit and more shit
I watched as the books were scattered on the classroom floor, while everyone stopped their actions to look at the abusive boy in row nine.
The day had not started off on the right foot —not that nor many that I had to go through throughout history— perhaps it was true that I had gotten up on the wrong foot.
But guess?
I woke up with both feet that morning. And yet it seemed to be a day of shit and more shit.
irritated buffet. I was never the rude or rude boy —that doesn't mean that I haven't learned the rude things in the world— on the contrary, I was peaceful.
He promoted the salvation of pigeons.
If you understand me? Who saves the pigeons? Nobody, exactly. Just me and my pacifism movement.
I squatted down to pick up what I had thrown in my fit of extreme rage.
I put on my best ass face and stuck my middle finger in the air, to make the warning not to bother me very clear—no more than it already was—
—- What's the matter? Tessa asked concerned, moving closer to my side. He held in his hands a small science book —- coincidentally the one he had thrown away -
I blinked several times in astonishment
She wanted to know what was happening, she was not interested in knowing what was disturbing me. I just wanted a reason to justify my irregular behavior.
Even more so if she was the coordinator of the course. And right now he needed a good reason not to be kicked out of the room.
Reason he never got to hear. Because I never gave it to him.
You will also wonder the same, right?
What was wrong with me?
I passed an ice cream
that happened to me
And so did she.
You will say that he was irritated and without absolute concentration just for nothing more and nothing less than thinking about the blue young woman from the cafeteria
correction friends
I was irritated and without absolute concentration to think about the disgusting ice cream that could possibly be served again at my table and coincidentally the blue one would be the one to give it to me.
A more credible excuse to formulate at that time when my brain did not assimilate the idea that she was beginning to interfere in my life.
—- Hey! The blonde next to me patted my shoulder to get my attention. I had ignored her.
I blinked again several times looking for the orbit that I did not have at that moment.
——"Sorry," ——I shrugged and took the book that the young woman offered me to ignore her again.
it wasn't his fault
It was the bluish one's fault
——You didn't answer.——I turned my head in a daze, arching an eyebrow at Tessa, who was still standing next to me. ——"What's wrong with you?" Are you okay?" ——He smiled at me.
I nodded without saying a word.
Not because I didn't want to, on the contrary, I didn't say anything because the only word I knew how to pronounce at that moment was shit.
And believe me, Tessa didn't deserve to listen to her.
You do because we already have enough confidence to swear without offending each other or something like that
——There are 20 minutes left to finish class," I nodded again, wondering why I wasn't going to continue whatever it was I had been doing?
——"Take the rest of the afternoon for today." I think you need it," he commented.
I needed it?
Did he need to leave class 20 minutes early?
What did she know what I needed?
I shook my head and looked at her like a weirdo.
—-"The professor will understand if I explain it to him." —he insisted —It will be the best—
—- The best for whom? For you, for me or for the rest of the class. The girl raised an eyebrow confused by my words.
but i didn't stop
Not after hearing the words of the black-haired man in row six.
——"Let him go fuck himself and see if the bitter life he leads will go away," ——Emiliano murmured loud enough for me and all the others to hear.
Even the teacher hid little mocking giggles at that comment.
I gave him my best killing glare and concentrated on killing him with my field of vision that found Tessa—again—
For the record, I warned everyone with my ass face and my huge middle finger in the air not to dare bother me. And even if you think—and you're right—the blonde wasn't bothering me —literally— but for me a simple fly was cause for anger.
Perhaps it was the thought of the ice cream that caused it to burst.
Or maybe my brain got fed up with being a rag to the rest of the social world
That my words came out hard, rough and cold.
——"Listen Tessa," the aforementioned blinked, not knowing what to do, say, or even think. ——-You mustn't be naive with me. okay? —I emphasized my words, continuing to penetrate those green eyes fiercely—
>>I know very well that the only thing you want is to get me out of class so that I don't be a nuisance as I am a waste of human flesh. Take off your worried girl mask because we both know that a damn cucumber is more important in your life than the very me. —I spat harshly, taking the opportunity to address the rest of the class—including the teacher—
>>So next time I'll ask you to be direct and not disguise your true intentions with false concern and pity. It infuriates me. I scanned his pale, petrified face.
Nobody expected that reaction and here between two, I would not have expected it either.
—--Just say it. Stick the knife in front, so it hurts less and it's easier. Dump and shoot——-I got up from my seat, screeching the metal of the table against the floor——You're expelled and I'm going to hell——I said and walked ignoring any thinking being in the place.
It wasn't to cause trouble
Perhaps at some point in my life I had been mischievous like any child, I could have even caused trouble for fun.
But now it was different
Everything was different.
Stop putting my head in matters that were none of my business when messing up meant losing the one I loved the most.
It wouldn't be necessary—in fact, it never was like that—he was a simple, flat, gray civil engineering student who just today hated drawing classes.
My presence as such was not the most essential.
It was a zero to the left in any mathematical operation.
And that didn't bother me —until that day—
Again the cold slapped my face like an icy layer that froze any emotion or feeling.
Just like yesterday, it wasn't going to rain. So I didn't bother to cover the books I was holding.
I didn't even care about the direction my feet were quickly taking.
It seemed like a soul that the devil carries
Yes, you could also compare my start and masterful walk. Imagine it and add the necessary drama to make it look epic and not abnormal.
okay? You did it? good, we continue
It may be that the blame for that situation has been placed on the blue woman from the cafeteria
Because?
Because yes and because I was never brave enough to recognize the guilt that I simply deposited on anyone else capable of bearing it.
I'm going to explain in cartoon so you understand my point of view.
Do you know that animated little man in red, who lives in the mind of a young teenager with other emotions and everything made her angry?
Everything, absolutely everything.
If you know who he is, then you'll have an idea of my state of mind at the time.
Specifically that day.
I only needed to expel smoke from my ears and color myself like a tomato to give an adequate representation to the caricature.
So at that time I did not reason —much less thought—
Combining Emiliano's words, Ethan's melancholy looks, the intention of getting me out of Tessa's class, the terrible relationship I had with society in general, the disgusting taste of Lemon ice cream from the previous afternoon
They were the trigger for my bad attitude that afternoon because I arrived at the cafeteria frustrated, defeated and tired.
no hello
I didn't even ask permission from the customers who were blocking my way to the corner table. Rather—I admit it wasn't cool of me—I started shoving anyone who got in my way.
Even before entering the premises, I met Orlando, remember? The little ten-year-old black-haired boy who always played with a yellow balloon and who in the middle of the street ended up letting it go without further ado.
Well, this time the dwarf did not let go of the balloon.
Because I took it and released it myself. Sticking out her tongue in a childish way while listening as she ran to buy another one claiming that a tall and mean boy stole her precious yellow balloon.
It was wrong, I accept it.
But so little I committed an atrocity in my opinion. It would have been a crime to have popped the balloon and laughed in his tearful face.Specifically that day.
I only needed to expel smoke from my ears and color myself like a tomato to give an adequate representation to the caricature.
So at that time I did not reason —much less thought—
Combining Emiliano's words, Ethan's melancholy looks, the intention of getting me out of Tessa's class, the terrible relationship I had with society in general, the disgusting taste of Lemon ice cream from the previous afternoon
They were the trigger for my bad attitude that afternoon because I arrived at the cafeteria frustrated, defeated and tired.
no hello
I didn't even ask permission from the customers who were blocking my way to the corner table. Rather—I admit it wasn't cool of me—I started shoving anyone who got in my way.
Even before entering the premises, I met Orlando, remember? The little ten-year-old black-haired boy who always played with a yellow balloon and who in the middle of the street ended up letting it go without further ado.
Well, this time the dwarf did not let go of the balloon.
Because I took it and released it myself. Sticking out her tongue in a childish way while listening as she ran to buy another one claiming that a tall and mean boy stole her precious yellow balloon.
It was wrong, I accept it.
But so little I committed an atrocity in my opinion. It would have been a crime to have popped the balloon and laughed in his tearful face.
I didn't do that. So don't judge me.
Or do it if you want. It's part of the plot, right? The point is, the only thing I could think of besides the word shit and red.
It was him. Why did the bluish woman take pains to serve me the fucking ice cream?
Whatever the flavor.
My palate was jaded —like its owner— due to the fact that it was the third ice cream that I had tasted without his permission and consent.
And it was barely the middle of the week.
It was all the fault of the blue one. And don't tell me that "you would have stopped eating it," "you would have refused the ice cream if you didn't like it," "you could make him understand that you didn't want to try it"
And I know it, okay? I always knew it.
But it made me crazy
Reason that I will explain to you later.
For that reason, I spent the rest of the afternoon head over heels in the toilet, smelling the ice cream-flavored vomit.
Also if I hadn't eaten the ice cream. This story would not have been possible.
Give me credit for it to feel better about myself.
With that thought fluttering through my mind, I abruptly took a seat, slumping back into the chair.
Luckily there was a cushion because the plank he would have given me couldn't be pretty.
imagine a candy
Yes, a candy covered by its wrapper.
Now think that I am that candy and the shell that covers me is made up of layers of anger, frustration, rage and agony.
Have you seen me yet? Can you imagine the huge ass face he had that day?
Well congratulations. You are good at imagining.
I concentrated—enough—to tell the bluish one that this time no, —just as you are reading it—I was going to make it clear to her that she was NOT going to get away with it, this time she would not eat me, she was not even willing to smell the disgusting cold dessert.
But what if you guess what happened?
Exactly, as in this story the opposite of what I say is done.
Well, you'll know that I didn't do anything that I talked about.
I did not refuse.
I did not say anything.
No
Because?
Because there is always a but. An insignificant but one that changes the roles of this narrative.
The blue one made an appearance. Inhale deeply, regaining the calm that he did not possess so as not to offend her and speak as civilized as possible without spitting any bad words.
I tried to relax my facial expression —it didn't work— so that no bad gesture was seen—all the bad gestures and grimaces were seen—
I watched how he held —even with little stability— the tray between his forearms, on top of the flat mental structure was a bowl filled with...
Come on, you say it, because I know you know it
Yes, another ice cream from the scrub.
Tinted in a yellowish shade—too—colorful for my field of vision. I blinked several times at the intensity of the tint.
Don't worry about knowing what flavor it was, because I didn't even try to identify or even guess.
The only thing you can know is that it would surely be disgusting and even more so with such a color that was worn.
And believe me when I tell you that I was not going to try it to test my taste theories.
Did you read right?
"I was going"
In the precise moment that I opened my mouth and synchronized my NO with the movement of denial with the head.
She smiled.
And he smiled in a way that I couldn't—nor can I—explain.
Maybe it was always like that. She unknowingly was the shoulder to give my pesos to. He was the one who carried my cross every time my back was exhausted.
He smiled and all the anger, anger, frustration went straight down the drain. Just like everything I planned on telling him.
He smiled and those dimples made an appearance, trampling all my bad mood.
She always had that power. Even that time where everything ended.
——"Courtesy of the house," ——-he mentioned as the only sign of greeting. And that afternoon was not like the previous one.
Deep down I admit that I was waiting for him to sit down again to keep me company.
But it didn't happen.
Instead, he moved to the side of the counter without taking his gaze from me, the table, and the ice cream.
Her smile never left her lips, on the contrary, it was even more shiny, radiant and full of life. I could swear that more than once her lips expanded to occupy the entirety of her cheeks.
I found out—unfortunately—that the flavor of the ice cream I was tasting—heavily—was peach.
You already know the routine, what I have left to do the rest of the afternoon after executing such a taste action.
That afternoon was definitely the same as the previous one—and many more—
My eyes did not focus on her bluish silhouette.
Fury raged inside me again.
Combine the emotions frustrated by that smile that prevented them from being released as I wanted and in my own way.
That with the same attitude I had when I arrived, irritated and disgusted, I took a pastel pink napkin leaving a note.
I knew I would read it.
He always did.
I left the premises, without saying goodbye or see you later, just wanting to vomit and emotionally preparing my ass for that afternoon's puncture.
spoilers?
The fury she possessed that day didn't compare to the anger and disappointment she once gave me.
Wait to know, you haven't seen anything yet.