Whilst leaving the school premises, the deep scowl on my face betrays my mood. I try my utmost to refrain from glaring at every student walking past me being that they have not done anything to warrant receiving glowers.
With every stomp on the ground, I realise that today has undoubtedly been the worst Tuesday I have ever encountered and that's saying something, considering I have had vomit on me on a prior Tuesday. Let's just say Savannah isn't particularly fond of me, so when illness befell her, she chose to throw up all over the nearest thing to her. Unfortunately, that thing was me. The entire day, the only garments available for me to wear were from the lost and found. Stale and reeking, leaving an unwelcome odour on my person.
That's how I became the joke of the day, the joke of Tuesday.
Come to think of it that sounds worse than today so I'm just going to go right ahead and retract my statement. The worst Tuesday is still the day when Savannah threw up all over me. I smelled dusty and stale and covered in puke so that is not better than today. Today, though, I have to say, wasn't one of the best days I've had.
Mr Singh is a plump, short Indian man who is somehow my foreign language teacher which is Korean. I mean, it's not Cantonese, but it's something I ought to learn if we ever plan on visiting my grandparents again. Halmeoni knows how to speak Korean because my grandpa was brought up by Korean parents. She can be very strict about not forgetting our roots. I remember her scolding me for not properly saying that I loved the zongzi she prepared.
Instead of that, I confidently said, "Nabi an-e nae baega iss-eo" which translates to my belly is inside a butterfly.
I can still feel the pinch I got from her. For the whole day, she had me rehearsing how to say the sentence in good order, the way it's supposed to be said. I will never ever forget how to say it now. I had to practise the whole day until my grandpa finally reasoned with her. Amma was chastised so heavily that day that she was left in a foul mood.
That's when she decided to make my foreign language Korean.
Anyway, Mr Singh found a way to dent my very precious, clean record. He actually gave me demerits for being late for his class. I don't know why, but today he wasn't in the greatest of moods—just like me. He doesn't normally dish out demerits, he would rather embarrass you in front of the class by making you have a conversation with him in Korean. Trust me, it's the funniest thing when someone keeps saying moth instead of me.
I have nobody to blame for this. Well except for that good-for-nothing prick called Dominic. He should be congratulated for ruining this day for me. I mean, it's really difficult for someone to ruin a day for me. Even Savannah can't keep me sour for a long time, but he just… he ruined my perfect record. I know it may sound like I'm overreacting a bit, but here's the reality of the situation. My mum will kill me if she finds out about it.
To think that my once clean record has now been dented…
He's the one who made me late.
Couldn't he have waited until after school to show me the leverage he had over my head? No, the guy had to drag me inside a closet, causing me to panic like some sort of coked-up cat and show me that damn sketchbook. The sketchbook that contains that journal entry I so hope he hasn't read. In the closet, he said that we should meet up in the parking lot to apparently talk so that's where I'm going right now.
I'm probably going to miss the earliest bus, but I need to get my sketchbook back and the only way to do that is to find out what he wants from me.
"Seong Jin," someone calls, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I turn around to see Taylor running up to me.
She's in her football kit which consists of the school's dark blue loose shorts with a sleeveless t-shirt. Her dark brown braids are tied up in a neat ponytail.
"Hey," she says with a bright grin.
"What's up?"
"Edward asked about everyone in the school, but not one of them has owned up to having your sketchbook."
"Oh, that." I wave a dismissive hand. "No, I already found it."
Astonishment covers her face as she blinks a couple of times slowly. Eventually, after the shock has worn off, she replies with, "Oh, that's great."
"Isn't it?"
She nods with a stiff smile which informs me that what's about to come is anything, but great. It's an angry smile.
"I mean, now I can keep my dirty, little secrets to myself."
"So what?" She lifts her one shoulder enquiringly and adds, "Did it maybe slip your mind that the two of us were running our arses up and down looking for that piece of shit?"
"Hey, don't call my sketchbook that," I reprimand, jokingly.
"Seong Jin, I'm serious," she states, not showing any amusement at my response.
"Who said I'm not?"
"My boyfriend has been running up and down the halls of this stupid school, talking to all these random, still pubescent freaks to find your precious, crush-filled sketchbook and now you're gonna tell me that you've found it like it's no big deal?"
"Careful, those random, still pubescent freaks are your peers, Taylor," I scold her playfully.
She does not even crack a smile. Her eyes narrow in on me venomously.
"I mean, to be fair, I only found it during the last period so even if I did tell you, it wouldn't have made that much of a difference."
Her scathing stare stays on me.
A sigh of defeat leaves my mouth as I conclude that I won't win this battle. Not when she's looking at me like that, at least.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I should've sent you or Edward a text telling you that I found it," I then mutter the last couple of words underneath my breath inaudibly, "even if it was the last lesson."
She glares at me for a little while longer until I pucker my lips and glance up at her like a guileless kitten. That finally causes her to cave in with a loud breath of exasperation.
"Fine, forgiveness. Just quit making that face. You're scaring all the potential boyfriends away."
"You already have a boyfriend."
"I'm talking about you, mate!"
"Oh, sorry, I don't roll that way, sweetheart. I'm like… super straight."
"Stop fucking around." I chuckle in amusement when she chastises me. "Seriously, are you ever gonna get over the fact that you got rejected by three guys?"
"It was three guys in a row, Taylor," I add, emphasising the last three words she forgot to insert in her enquiry. "In a row."
"Well honestly, they were no good for you. Dominic is a prick, Michael is a walking STD and James… well, let's just say I wonder if the guy is even conscious of the fact that he's on earth."
"I don't think he is. I mean, when I told him that I liked him he called me bro and said that he loves living in the closet."
She frowns. "That is so weird."
"I know, right?"
"Well, back to the point. Getting Seong Jin a boyfriend."
"Taylor please," I beg, exasperatedly. "Seong Jin doesn't need anyone to be his boyfriend, because Seong Jin is very much happy without one. See?" I stretch a wide, bright smile on my face to prove it to her.
"Lies."
My smile drops.
"And that smile is clearly a fake one, hiding all the depression you're facing, my little halfling," she speaks softly and sympathetically.
My nose wrinkles irritably at the term of endearment that she and Analys keep calling me. Ever since Analys found out that my shoe size is seven, she has dubbed me a little kid. Taylor found that hilarious and together they came up with a name to call me. A name they both knew would annoy me.
"Stop calling me a little halfling."
"Seong Jin, everyone needs a loving companion to lead them through their last year of the hell we call high school—"
"Not true."
"—And you, my friend, are at the top of the list of people who seriously need to get themselves into a relationship."
"Again. Not true."
"You know, people are starting to assume that you're straight."
I shrug. "I don't mind."
"Oh, but you should." She stares into my eyes earnestly, pressing her hand into my shoulder. "You really should. Probably why James said that he loves living in the closet. His gaydar wasn't picking up on your gay levels or something."
"That's not true at all," I mutter, shaking my head.
She ignores my murmuring and rubs her hands in excitement and anticipation. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but it appears to be quite the feat.
Taylor is never going to let this go, her determination will never falter, not one bit. Ever since she got Edward to be her quote loving companion unquote, she has been trying to force the same thing on me. She believes that nobody should have to live the misery that I am apparently barely surviving. Dramatic would be an understatement when describing her.
When she releases a noise of approval, I flutter back into reality and focus my gaze on her. My train of thought has been interrupted.
The sparkle in her eyes sets a feeling of foreboding within me and I'm almost scared to see who she is pointing at. The last time she tried to set me up with someone, did not go very well, so excuse my reluctance. Following her outstretched index finger with my eyes, my chest deflates in either concern or relief when I see the person at the tip of her finger.
He's busy wiping the lenses of his thick glasses, glancing around every once in a while, as if he's waiting for someone.
"Christian Bartell?" I muse flatly, giving her an unimpressed look. "Seriously?"
"Now hear me out, I know you might think he's way too geeky, but I think he's perfect for you."
"How so?"
"One, he's extremely smart, which will mean that the both of you will have a common ground and the conversation between you two will never dry out. You can talk about the algorithms of mechanical chemistry with each other without worrying about the other person being too stupid to understand."
"Yes, but—"
"He's also a bit of a bystander so you don't have to worry about the popularity drama. You'll still preserve your status of invisibility."
"True, but Taylor—"
"He's also got very weird taste in clothing so not only will you have a nice boyfriend, but you'll have a boyfriend who you can practice your designer skills on, because he seriously needs the help."
We both glance over at his outfit and I scowl at the way Taylor is wrinkling her nose.
Let the boy wear whatever he wants, will you? It may not be fashionable, but it's what he is comfortable in. I mean, personally, I think it's way too hot today to be wearing a plaid bottleneck jersey, but I don't know why he wears them, so I won't judge him. I don't like wearing shorts and some people like wearing bottlenecks and others like wearing black hoodies throughout the year.
"Deep down I think he's into the whole BDSM thing. No wonder he's wearing that bottleneck. He gets choked daily." I frown in confusion but don't comment on her statement.
"That's nice and all, Taylor, but I think you're forgetting one thing," I start, forcing her gaze to meet mine yet again, "Christian Bartell is already in a relationship with someone else."
I'm met with a cold, pregnant silence until she opens her mouth and in shock, whispers, "What?"
"Yeah."
An amused scoff emits from her as she stretches a wry smile at me. With sarcasm in her tone, she says, "Yeah, right. I think I'd know if someone like Christian was dating anyone in this school because I'm like someone who knows everything which runs from ear to ear in Mossbourne. I'm sort of like a gossip-monger of some sort."
"That's not a good thing," I tell her.
"It is."
"It's not."
When she's no longer focusing on our back-and-forth argument about how being a gossip-monger is not a good thing, I follow her gaze and realise that her widened saucers are now trained on Christian who is being approached by his boyfriend. The shock which multiplies on her face is, to say the least, priceless when his boyfriend taps him on the shoulder and he turns around to beam up at said boyfriend.
I quickly direct my gaze back onto my best friend's surprised Pikachu face when his boyfriend wraps his arm around his waist and hugs him tightly.
"See?" I gesture over at them.
"I'm sure they're just friends," she stammers out. After staring at the pair for a little while longer, she begins to squint her eyes in perplex. "Wait, is that Riley?"
A sound of affirmation stays behind my throat I nod in response to her question.
"Since when does Riley hang out with people like Christian?"
"Since they're dating."
"Riley is gay?" she yells out loudly, eyes popping out of their sockets. Luckily, they don't hear us with the hustle and bustle of the students rushing into their cars and having last minute conversations with their friends.
"What made you think he wasn't?"
"Because he plays football."
I roll my eyes at her thinking process. Patting her head in mock sympathy, I say, "Right, and football is a straight only sport, is it now, my little wombat?"
"Don't patronise me."
I sigh in defeat. "Taylor seriously, I don't need a boyfriend. I'm doing perfectly fine without one. I have spent seventeen years of my life without a loving companion; I think I can go another year."
"I fail to see your reasoning."
"I told you, I just want to get through high school with at least six distinctions at most and then go to university where I'll meet some hot Japanese guy who'll sweep me off my feet with his deep voice."
"Aargh, what is with you and this Japanese guy theory?" she drawls out with an irritated look on her face.
"It's not about the Japanese guy, Taylor. It's his deep voice. The deep voice."
She glances at me weirdly for a second until she dismissively mutters, "You're actually so daft, Seong Jin. Anyway, you owe me. Big time."
"For what?"
"I looked for your sketchbook. Do you know how tiring that was? I mean, to have to go out of my way and talk to all these randoms? You owe me at least for that."
"Yeah, I don't think that's how friendship works, mate. Also, what do your precepts say about guilt-tripping your friends into doing things for you? Do you think Buddha would condone such behaviour?"
"See, this is how I know you don't listen to a single thing I say. Where in the precepts does it say anything about guilt-tripping your friends?"
Sheepishly, I ask, "What are the five precepts again?"
"Listen, and listen well," she commands, staring into my eyes earnestly and I focus my gaze on her lips to show how intensely I'm gonna listen to this. When she asks if I'm listening, I adamantly bob my head up and down.
She holds up her hand and whilst bending each finger down, she lists, "Okay, so the five precepts of Buddhism are as follows: one, abstain from killing living beings, two, abstain from stealing, three, abstain from having lustful pleasures with multiple people at the same time, four, do not lie and five, refrain from using drugs or alcohol as they cloud the mind."
"Well, I mean, you've already broken about three of those precepts," I point out.
A loud gasp leaves her mouth as she stares at me with insult painting her entire expression. "How dare you accuse me of such an atrocity? When have I ever broken my precepts?"
"Uh, you've definitely stolen something before."
"I've never stolen anything in my life, mate." When she declares that, I stare at her flatly. "Okay, maybe when I was a kid, but I was a kid. I didn't know any better, but now that I'm older I've never stolen anything in my life, mate."
"What about the drugs you take?"
"You mean my Adderall medication? Are those the drugs you're talking about? Because I don't consider that drugs. Besides, the precept says drugs that cloud your mind. Adderall does the fucking opposite. It clears my mind and helps me focus."
"Okay, but what about the sex orgy you just had last week?" I can barely keep a straight face as I say that.
"Okay, just shut the fuck up, Seong Jin. Anyway, you're gonna attend one of my football games, right?"
I groan, scrunching my face in distaste at her request.
"Please," she pleads with her hands held in the same gesture.
"Can't you ask for something else?"
"No, I want you at my football game so you can give me some good criticism. I don't think you understand but after you left, my ball game got stunted. I've had no growth since you ditched me, Seong Jin. I need growth, mate."
"Honestly, my advice, just quit. Football is for losers."
"No, it's not. You're coming to my football game, Seong Jin and that's final."
"No, I hate your games. Especially since Savannah is gonna be there and she hates my guts."
"Vannah doesn't hate you."
I arch an eyebrow at her as if to ask her if she's being serious. "I'm sorry, but you were there on the day Vannah vomited on me, correct? How can you say that doesn't scream she hates me?"
"Are you actually still hung up on that? She was sick."
"And conveniently, she was standing next to her arch nemesis when she felt like hurling?"
"Yes," she exclaims, watching me like I'm the crazy one for even assuming this.
"You know what, fine. I'll give her that. Everyone thinks she was too sick to sprint to the toilet and puke her insides out or… you know, maybe not vomit on me. The ground has always been an option, just saying."
"Wow."
"Also, have you asked yourself why she spilt that can of coke in my hair? You know, the one time I actually came to a football game?"
"You told her that we sucked."
"Well, to be fair, Taylor. To be fair," I pause as if to find the correct statement to justify my earlier spoken words, but it ends up coming out as, "You guys did suck."
She punches my shoulder playfully.
"Ow!" I chuckle, stepping away from her to rub on the throbbing spot she just jabbed. "What? You lost twenty-one to three. If that doesn't say you suck more than anything, then I don't know what does."
"Whatever," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest and balancing her entire weight on her hip. "I don't see you doing anything about it. I mean, why don't you train the team again? Maybe we wouldn't suck so bad."
"So, you want me to bear Savannah looking at me like I sat back and allowed a kitten and a puppy to fight to the death?" I muse incredulously, wondering if she's thinking coherently. "Yeah, no as tempting as that offer is, Taylor I'll have to pass."
"You suck cheese balls," she says, causing a humoured grin to curl up on my lips. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Gotta go to practice."
"Have fun!"
She pulls a face at the little comment and runs back into the school after leaving me with the usual fist bump.
After she has disappeared behind the school building, almost a nanosecond after that I catch Edward and Damien walking out through the door. Edward is also wearing his sports gear, which consists of some blue trunks and a loose t-shirt. His swimming goggles are swinging from his index finger as he begrudgingly listens to Damien who's animatedly speaking to him.
The quick-paced steps he is taking make him look like he'd much rather be anywhere than listening to Damien. I stare after them for a little while longer, a soft grin pressing onto my lips. Barely visible; not from ear-to-ear, because that would just be fucking weird. They do not spot me standing here, spying on them. Spying on him.
Now it's time to go and get my sketchbook back. Hopefully, Dominic would have turned over a new leaf of empathy and conscientiousness and will hand it over without a fuss.