I am in the biggest shit ever. In the history of people landing themselves in the biggest shit ever, I'm probably the one in the biggest shit ever.
I looked for that sketchbook everywhere yesterday. In my bag, in the class, in the library, in the hallways I ran in. Everywhere. I even went as far as asking Taylor to help me find it and to say she was shocked, to find out that I lost the sketchbook which contains all my drawings and designs, would be an understatement. She then proceeded to scold me, saying that it was all my fault for being so irresponsible with my stuff.
I thoughtlessly agreed with her just so I would not get into an argument with her over my supposed irresponsibility. That would just be a waste of time. Time we could be using to look for my sketchbook.
The desperation in my gaze must have swayed her because that is about when she apologised as sincerely as she could for overreacting and told me that there was no use crying over spilt milk. The chances of us finding that sketchbook now, in her mind, are zero to none, she said. Her words did nothing to hinder me from still pleading with her throughout the entire day.
I had to find that sketchbook before someone else could see what I had written there. My persistence perplexed her and may have also caused her to become a bit suspicious. Even she knew that I wouldn't go as far as begging her to find a sketchbook that only contained my designs. When she asked me what else was in it, to water her suspicions down, I told her that it had everything I wrote about my former crushes. I, of course, omitted the part about one of those crushes being her boyfriend.
I retraced all my steps and came back empty-handed. My hands are literally very empty because I don't even have the strength to read that Pride and Prejudice book I so want to read. Not when I'm panicking the fuck out. If that sketchbook ends up in the wrong hands, I'm screwed.
What if Edward is the one who finds it and reads the stuff I wrote about him? Even worse, what if Taylor finds it?
I am so fucking dead.
Where the hell could it be?
Someone brings me out of my panicking thoughts by tapping me on the shoulder. I pull one earphone out of my ear and gawk up to find an unfamiliar face looking down at me in perplex. When I raise my eyebrows at him in a questioning and slightly demanding manner, he points out the window.
I turn around to see that he's showing me that we've arrived at school and I mentally berate myself for giving him that stare when he was just helping me. Throwing him a grateful smile, I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder.
Arriving at my locker, I release a tired breath and unzip my bag, hoping to see the black and orange sketchbook peeking up at me. Of course, I'm disappointed when I only see my school books and my tablet.
Why was I so stupid as to write such incriminating shit in my sketchbook? I should have just downloaded an app where I could write about Edward to my heart's content or rather draw as my sister suggested I should the first time I misplaced my sketchbook, but no, Seong Jin, you just had to write in your sketchbook because you're afraid of getting hacked. As if I'm even that important.
"Hey!"
I jump out of my skin. When I turn around abruptly this causes me to bang my back against the lockers, making a rattle run through the whole corridor. The silence drags on afterwards.
When a few eyes focus on me, I perch my foot on the lockers while hugging my books against my chest. When this isn't enough to convince them that I'm not quivering in my boots, I give my newly, box-braided haired friend who is watching me weirdly a cool nod.
"Sup?"
"Uh…" She looks around awkwardly before shaking her head as if to disregard my strange behaviour. "Nothing much."
"Cool."
"Okay, Seong Jin, can I just be the first to point out that you look really awful?" she asks but continues without waiting for my response. "I mean you're just looking… terribly shitty."
"Gee, thanks, Tay," I give her a sardonic smile and close my locker shut with a soft bang. "Now, I know I can always count on your vote of confidence."
"You're welcome." She throws an arm over my shoulder and after I've thrown the handle of my bag over my shoulder, we begin to advance to homeroom. An amused look sparkles in her date brown eyes and she looks over at me with a grin. Her insults carry on when she asks, "So… why do you look so—"
"Terribly shitty?" I finish for her, quoting her harsh words.
She snorts. "Yeah, that. I mean, you always clean up so well with your clothes, your hair, your face. Yet today you look like a bag of shit that was kicked to the curb."
"Really reeling it in with the insults, aren't you?"
She smiles perkily.
"Well, let's just say I had a really rough night. What with this Maths quiz we're writing today and my sketchbook going missing, I—"
"Wait, what Maths quiz?" she interrupts me, giving me a look of both horror and confusion.
"The one Mr Sanchez told us about yesterday," I say to her. A sigh of defeat leaves my lips when she looks as clueless as ever. "You forgot about it, didn't you?"
The one thing I actually don't like about Taylor is that she has made me her own personal daily reminder.
In Calculus, she cannot concentrate at all. I always catch glimpses of her staring at her boyfriend from across the room, palm balancing her face as she bats those money makers of hers a million times. Sickly smiles are tossed at one another and it's very much nauseating. And I'm not saying that because I'm jealous or anything.
She's always so consumed in Edward, almost like she's afraid that he'll disappear into thin air if she looks away. Well, that's until I pull her elbow from the deep puncture it's making into the table and she faceplants into said table. It's the only thing I look forward to. The fact that she does this every day knowing what will come from it is entertaining.
Then she'll throw me her infamous scathing stare and I'll then tell her to focus on Mr Sanchez's lesson because it's vitally important. She does, but only for so long.
"Why didn't you remind me?" she demands, looking at me accusingly. "You know I can't concentrate on anything when Edward's around."
"I did remind you," I state exasperatedly, ignoring the second part of her statement since it's what I was just thinking about right now. "At the end of the period, I pulled you aside and said, "Don't forget about the Maths quiz we're writing tomorrow," so that you don't scold me for not reminding you like you did the last time."
"No way. What did I say afterwards?"
"Sure, whatever. Wouldn't dream of it."
"Yeah, that sounds like something I'd say in my love-struck state."
"Oh, my God. You're hopeless." I throw my hands up in defeat. "You know, I think we should maybe blindfold you in Calculus so that you and Edward don't keep tossing longingly puppy-eyed looks at each other all the time."
"Shit," she cusses loudly and looks around the hallway vigorously. "Have you seen Eddie?"
"Hmm?" I muse with widened eyes. "W-What? No. Why would—Why would you ask me that?"
Did she get the sketchbook and see all the things I wrote about her boyfriend and has now concluded that I'm seeing him behind her back? She should know that Edward would never do that to her. He is way too loyal to start seeing me behind her back.
Also, I wouldn't do that to her. If he would for some strange reason want to see me behind his girlfriend's back, I would not allow it at all. No matter how much I may like him. She's my best friend. My only friend actually.
"What?" She gives me a weird look. "I don't know. It's just a question, I guess. Are you… okay?"
"Oh… no… yes. I'm just… I'm really tired and… stressed out."
She looks at me suspiciously. "Stressed out from what?"
"T-The test… and my lost sketchbook."
"Right, of course." She, fortunately, disregards my strange behaviour and replaces her expression with sympathy instead of suspicion. "Well, I better go look for Eddie so he can quickly prep me on everything because I know next to zilch about what's going on in Calculus."
"I mean, I could—"
"No, I prefer him."
"Oh," I echo after her and look away mockingly with a look of hurt on my face, "well it's nice to know that it's always hoes before bros."
Taylor places a hand on my shoulder and gives me a reassuring smile. "Seong Jin, when it comes to choosing between Eddie and you, I can assure you," she pauses and gives me a long and hard stare which comforts me, "that I'll always choose him."
I push her away playfully.
She begins to cackle like the evil witch I know her to be at the expression of betrayal on my face.
What happened to the childhood pact we made back in primary school? I remember all three of us sitting underneath the big tree that occupied the space behind the school building. We intertwined our pinkies, kissed our thumbs, bumping foreheads softly and then we all solemnly swore to never let a boy (or girl, no judgement) come between our friendship.
"You're so evil," I comment, trying not to let a smile spread out fully. "What happened to our sacred pact? No zit-bearing boy is ever going to come first in our friendship?"
"Well, technically, Edward doesn't bear zits so…" She smirks.
I glare.
A soft grin graces her red-painted lips. "I'm just kidding, Seong Jin. You know that you're my day one, babe."
"Yeah, don't you forget that, babe."
"Gotta dash. See you later," she hollers, turning around to run in the opposite direction, but then she suddenly exclaims, "Oh, wait, so did you end up finding your sketchbook?"
"No," I deadpan, giving her a confused look. "I just said I was stressed out over my lost sketchbook. Did you not catch the word lost?"
"If you want me to be honest with you, I barely listen to half the shit that comes out of your mouth," she admits, much to my distaste.
"Okay, rude."
"Well, don't worry about it. I told Eddie to tell everyone to be on the lookout for a black and orange sketchbook which is the property of Seong Jin Lee. Whoever finds it will give it to him and then he'll give it to me and then I'll give it to you. By the end of today, you'll leave this school not only with your dignity intact but your sketchbook too."
So basically, what I'm hearing is that my sketchbook is going to be passed down to two of the last people I'd want to read it. That's great, perfect actually. By the end of today, I'll probably leave this school not only with my sketchbook but without my only friend.
How am I ever going to remain restful in the remainder of my classes?
The only thing which will be running through my head when Mrs Kennedy preaches about power being the energy that is produced by mechanical, electrical or other means and used to operate a device is the fact that some random person is going to be handing over my precious, secret sketchbook to Edward who will then further make things worse by handing that very same sketchbook to Taylor.
As if seeing my distressed look, she gives me a hearty smile. "Hey, don't worry. I'll definitely read it to make sure that all your dirty, little secrets are still in it," she jokes, punching me in the shoulder playfully, but I don't find it funny. Not at all.
"Awesome," I whisper sarcastically, smiling stiffly.
I go through the motions blindly and before I know it, it's the period before the end of the day, this particular day which has dragged on forever and I was almost afraid that it would never come to an end. I was right to assume that I wouldn't be able to concentrate in Chemistry or any other class for the matter of fact. I have never been chastised so many times to concentrate in Mr Sanchez's class.
Even Taylor was concerned for my wellbeing for a moment until she completely kicked me to the curb and brought her attention back onto Edward who was just as enraptured by her beauty.
Physics wasn't a better story. If anything, it was probably worse.
Firstly, I arrived quite late because I forgot my textbook in my locker, so I had to go and retrieve it. Secondly, I had to sit next to my arch nemesis' bestie who I haven't spoken to over the past year so, talk about awkwardness. Thirdly, Dominic kept staring at me throughout the entire period, not even feeling bashful when I caught him several times. He was probably stabbing me in the chest area multiple times in his head for almost murdering him.
This day literally couldn't get any worse.
Oh, wait, it actually could.
Taylor still hasn't shown up with my sketchbook yet and I think my fingers are going to be screaming in pain from all the nervous nail-biting I have been doing.
I think it might have something to do with the fact that she's still reading all those dirty, little secrets like she promised she would when she gets her hands on the sketchbook, but who am I to assume that? Maybe she hasn't even found it yet. Maybe Edward is the one who has it and is currently reading all the lovey-dovey shit I have written about him.
Like that's a better thought.
Running a hand through my hair for the umpteenth time, I shake my head and hurry over to my locker to at least stuff the books I will not be needing in there. This stress of losing my sketchbook and having someone else read what I've written in there shouldn't be accompanied by back pains.
My heart skips a beat when a hand is pushed against my mouth and someone wraps an arm around my stomach, pulling me backwards.
My eyes widen in surprise and I try to scream for help, but the hand isn't allowing me to. It muffles the sound. Before I know it, I'm being dragged inside the janitor's closet by the culprit. He kicks the door shut behind me, enveloping us in darkness.
Is someone actually going to molest me at school? What kind of world do we live in today?
I trash in his hold and successfully nudge my elbow into his gut.
He wheezes but unfortunately doesn't loosen his grip on me.
I keep shifting around in his hold, hoping that he gets tired of my squeamish self and lets me go. He doesn't.
In my panic-stricken state, this is how my next best idea is put into action. Biting hard into his hand, he hisses in pain and cusses behind me. Thankfully, he lets go of my mouth which allows me to scream my lungs out for assistance.
"Help, someone is trying to—"
He hushes me urgently by again slamming his rough, callous hand over my lips.
There's more trashing, more muffled screams, more hushes.
"Look I'm not gonna hurt you," he whispers loud enough for me to hear him. "I just wanna talk."
Does he really think that I'm going to believe the person who has literally dragged me inside a dark closet? How naïve does this guy think I am?
"Mgrfhmp!"
"Listen," he demands, but I carry on fighting his tight hold on me and trying to scream. "Listen, I'm not going to do anything to you so stop trashing around!"
From his agitated tone, I pause for a second, pants making my chest rise and fall quickly.
"Now, I'm gonna let go of your mouth. Do not scream, okay?"
I hesitantly nod.
"Good. I'm letting go now," he reluctantly says and cautiously removes his hand.
And I do the opposite of what I said I wouldn't do.
I scream.
As loud as I can.
So loud that I'm sure that one hundred and eighty countries heard me. So loud that my vocal cords hurt from screaming like that. So loud that someone in this damned school should have at least heard me by now. At my actions, he kisses his teeth in irritation and turns me around to see him. This causes my screaming to die down slowly when I immediately recognise him even in the darkness.
"Dominic?"
"Yeah."
Watching him in bemusement, my mouth gapes and I muse in my shock, "What the f—what the hell was that all about?"
"I was trying to—"
"You scared the shit out of me." I slap his chest, cutting him off.
He doesn't even flinch.
"I thought I was gonna get raped, you prick."
"Do I look like I want to have sex," he scrunches his face up in disgust, even going as far as shuddering, "with you of all people?"
I swallow a gasp.
"Well," I whisper-shout, glaring at him, "I don't feel the desire to have sex with you too. The thought alone makes me nauseous. You're not exactly a hot commodity, you know."
"Try telling that to the ninth grader who would constantly hit on me every day."
"It wasn't every day," I stammer out.
"Pretty sure it was."
"No, it wasn't."
He scoffs, flicking the lights on.
When the brightness chases away his silhouette, I manage to see his attributes clearly. I study his features and realise that ninth-grade me had a great eye for attractive guys. His choice of clothing is the first thing I go to, seeing the usual black hoodie with black tracksuit trousers and yes, black trainers. They're all branded.
His unkempt, black mess falls like a mop over his forehead, kind of obscuring his dark, aureate eyes and I wonder how long he spends styling it to look so perfect in the morning. I know, I don't have the time anymore. Not with this new bus schedule. And how is it not ruined by always wearing a hood?
Wait, why isn't he wearing the hood over his head like he usually is? Did the scuffle between him and I cause the thing to fall off? Why did he drag me in here in the first place?
A knock on the door makes the both of us still in terror, pulling me from my stare at his hair to his enlarged eyes. He quickly glances over at the door and I think I see a flicker of panic in his eyes before he shuts the emotion down to maintain neutrality again. He places a finger against his lips, silently telling me to keep my mouth shut.
I roll my eyes and comply.
Of course, I'm going to keep quiet. I wouldn't want to be portrayed to the entire school as some boy who sleeps with guys in the janitor's closet, especially Dominic Lachowski.
"Hey, is everything okay in there?" the person on the other end of the door asks, his voice muffled. "I heard screaming."
We both remain deathly silent, letting the quiet awkwardness thicken in the atmosphere.
Great, what has this idiot gotten me into? What if it's someone on the student council?
If he is, he'll inform the other councillors. That means the head boy too. Edward. Then I'll be sent to the headmistress. Taylor's mother. She is really close to my mum so my parents will probably be called in. How will I explain to my mum that I was in the janitor's closet with someone else?
Dominic looks over at me as if requesting some help from me, but I only scoff and cross my arms over my chest in defiance. He'll have to see how he gets the both of us out of this one. I'm not going to help him. Besides, he just called me unattractive and shuddered in disgust. Does he think I'm just going to forget about that and help him get us out of this mess? Yeah, no.
When he realises that I'm not going to offer any assistance he does the unimaginable.
He starts to moan.
My head snaps over to him so quickly, I'm shocked it even remained attached to my neck. I watch him with my eyes almost falling out of their sockets, but he purposely averts his gaze from my flabbergasted one. When I catch a faint pink staining his ears, I conclude from this reaction alone that he's embarrassed to be doing this. Trust me, I feel the same way.
Why the hell is he moaning?
Does he have that disorder? I've read online about a sexual disorder. It's called PGAD, where you just get spontaneous orgasms. Does he have that?
"Oh, God, I can't believe we're actually having sex right now," he shouts out loudly with an awkward grunt. "Carry on screaming for me."
A squeak of discomfort leaves my mouth and I slowly turn my eyes away from his little performance. The chemicals on the shelf are starting to look a little more interesting than they did before. Is that hydrochloric acid?
When I feel his stare on me, I reluctantly look over at him and in shock, I gape at him.
"You have to scream," he whispers quietly.
"What?" I whisper back.
"You have to scream like a girl so he thinks we're having sex in here. It's the only way to get rid of him."
"Are you out of your mind?" I question him, shaking my head in immediate refusal. "There's no way in hell I'm screaming."
"Just do it," he presses.
"No."
"Fucking do it before he comes in here!"
Oh, for the love of—
"Oh, my gosh. Harder. God, you're so big," I deadpan in a higher pitch, giving him a look, which asks him if he's satisfied. "How many girls have you done this with?"
"Seriously?" he whisper-shouts, cutting me off before I could utter more atrocious stuff. I can't control the blush which covers my cheeks when in turn, he gives me a dry look.
"What?" I shrug and glance away bashfully.
"Oh!" the person on the other end suddenly exclaims in realisation. "That's all I needed to hear. Have fun, kids. Make papa proud." Then with two encouraging taps on the door, he's gone.
I shake my head, blinking away the peculiar situation I've landed in. When we're both sure that he's too far away to hear us, Dominic faces me again and leans against the wall while staring at me. His gaze is searching, trying to knock down whatever obstacle is in his way of figuring me out.
"Why did you drag me in here?"
He blinks at my question.
I fold my arms over my chest. After a few seconds have gone by, I give him an expectant look. "Did you drag me in here to stare at me?"
He's silent for a while, still trying to understand who Seong Jin is until he decides that the feat is quite difficult, so he resorts to rummaging inside his bag which is also, yes, a black Adidas bag. He pulls something out and reveals it to me.
A gasp escapes my lips when I catch the familiar black and orange sketchbook that I've been looking for.
"I believe this belongs to you," he says, and I catch the way the side of his lip quirks up slightly, "that crusty Seong Jin."