Chereads / St. Philomena Girls High School / Chapter 8 - CHAPTER 8

Chapter 8 - CHAPTER 8

She knocked on the door once and waited.

"Come in.", said a masculine voice from inside.

Ylle heaved a sharp exhale and walked in. She met a busy Mr. Willy printing what she could only guess to be quizzes. She stood attentively, like a soldier, at the door, the printer sounding like gears grinding.

"Yes, Ylle.", Mr. Willy commenced, "How may I help you?",

Ylle's eyebrows instantly popped up with a question, "You called me.", she stated.

"I didn't.", he replied, but then he paused, and huffed, "Who said I called you in my office?",

"A girl, in a tracksuit."

Mr. Willy nodded with a knowing smile. The last paper finished printing and he carried that bundle back to his table. 

"I've been a teacher for 15 years. I know what's happening. I'm sure you know it too. You're just ignoring it like a good student.", he said.

Ylle knew what he meant. She felt ashamed that even the teacher heard of the nasty rumors. But who was to blame? Maybe herself for loving and being excellent at the subject. There was no favoring or an agenda aside from academics. Sometimes Mr. Willy would ask for Ylle's notes, and she would ask for extra clarifications. That was it. But something so mundane was now causing a frenzy.

"I'm sure right now you're wondering where it all went wrong. I'll tell you; nowhere. You're like daughters to me, all of you, and it hurts my pride to hear people branding me as something less.",

"I'm sorry _",

"Don't apologize. I just want you to keep being yourself. You have a bright future ahead of you.". He took one quiz from the bundle, "Here. Go discuss it with the class. Try to find answers to all 30 questions. It's going to be a morning test tomorrow.",

Ylle approached the table and took the booklet.

"Thank you, sir.", she said, head lowered like a convict.

"Keep your head up high. You're so much more than that.".

On her way back to class, Ylle sunk into a lethargy. But this girl still thought it was a great idea to play deaf. She spotted Helzeny outside the classroom, walking back and forth. When Helzeny saw her, she quickly rushed to her and pulled her aside.

"I remembered.", she said, "That girl is Jackie's little sister.".

Now, Jackie was our classmate. I'm now ashamed to say she was also one of my closest friends then. Remember that group that talked trash about Ylle the other day? That was our group and Jackie was something of a leader. She was innerly rotten, but had a pretty exterior, thanks to her mother's Albanian genes.

"Did Mr. Willy really summon you?", Helzeny asked.

Ylle shook her head. The hourglass that was previously filled with grains of patience was starting to run low.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to let this go again? She won't stop. That whole group won't stop.",

But Ylle was unusually calm. 

They walked side by side back to class, and the moment Ylle entered, it became quiet. She didn't care about that. She just picked up a chalk and started writing on the board.

QUIZ QUESTIONS.

She then faced the class.

"This is going to be our morning test tomorrow. 30 questions. We need to discuss and find all the answers.".

People started taking out their notebooks. When she saw that everyone was ready, she officially began.

"First question; Define _",

"Believe me now?", a voice was heard coming from the far back corner of the class. 

All heads turned to look at her, Jackie, the unafraid.

"Mr. Willy never reveals his exams.", Jackie continued, "So, tell us, Ylle, what did you give him in return? A blow?",

Tension rose almost immediately. Ylle felt a tingle run up her spine, causing a trigger. And the first and only message her brain captured was:

Ah, what's the fucking point?

Carefully, she placed the quiz on the table and made way to the back of the class, hands resting tight on her back. We were all curious to see what's going to happen next. A fight? No. Ylle wasn't going to do that. It wasn't in her. An argument? Maybe. But Ylle wasn't a person of many words. Okay. Think. What's going to take place? 

That moment itself was like that suspenseful, nail-biting scene in a horror movie.

Ylle stood before Jackie's desk, staring her right into the soul.

"What did you say?", Ylle asked with an unusual softness in her tone.

"Why? Didn't you hear me the first time _",

It came like a bolt from the blue when Ylle suddenly grabbed Jackie's neck and slammed her on the wall. We all gasped so loud, and some of us even got up. Jackie struggled to free herself but Ylle's grip was too tight. 

"Let me g _",

A heavy slap befell on Jackie's cheek. We all shouted in sync. Before she took it in, another landed like an asteroid. Whipping a raw chunk of steak with a Roman scourge, that's how the slaps sounded like. Messy. Thick. Wet. Insanely painful.

After that, every word that came out of Ylle's mouth was accompanied by a hit,

"You … never … know … when … to fucking … quit!", Ylle uttered. That's 6 slaps on one red cheek for us who were counting.

But you know what's weird? None of us dared to stop the fight. We only witnessed it with mixed reactions. 

Jackie gathered energy from her ancestors and managed to push Ylle away, but Ylle came unto her again like a wrecking ball. She grabbed her by the collar and threw her to the floor. Luckily, there was enough space so Jackie didn't hit a rib, but she dropped with a thud. 

Ylle quivered with rage. She sat on top of Jackie as her gaze searched for a perfect weapon. That's when her eye caught sight of a sharp, blue-inked pen resting on top of a nearby desk. Ylle, now a beast, snatched the pen and started rocketing her hand towards Jackie's eye.

I'll say Jackie should count her blessings, starting from that day. Winslow, the most courageous of us all, stepped in and caught Ylle's hand halfway to somebody's cornea.

"That's enough!", Winslow said in a voice only Ylle could hear, "It's okay.".

Now a few others came forth to pull Ylle back. Jackie was taken away panting, weeping, sweating and in disbelief. Never had she once pictured herself being ragged and mopped like that. Her whole face was now tomato red with a cut lip and a nosebleed. Tears and blood drops wetted her shirt like she came out of a pool.

To her, that was a near-death experience. 

Ylle released the pen and sat on the floor. The beast that had taken over her was now hibernating slowly. Winslow crouched down and hugged her. She gently rubbed her back, "It's over now.", she told her, "You're okay. The bitch is done for.".

Ylle did only one thing; Breath.

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