I let the sweat on my forehead drip down my temples. They go straight to the hollow part of my neck. I hate P. E. I hate being obligated to play volleyball for the sake of getting a higher grade. The scorching sun across the blue sky seems to make all the water in my body evaporate.
It feels like there are needles in my throat as it hurts when I try to swallow saliva. I can feel the flesh inside my body quivering and my breath becoming heavy already; and I think I will fall onto my knees in a second.
The supposedly subject before this did not arrive, so our brilliant professor came up with an idea of borrowing the spare time, and now we've been displayed on the field for almost two hours while soaked in our own sticky sweats. We can't use the gym either because it is currently occupied by basketball players.
I definitely curse the person who invented this stupid subject.
I suck in a deep breath before I position myself as the other team gets ready to bat the ball to our side. I wipe the perspiration off my temples and shake my hands. As soon as the ball soars high over the net, I check my position and prepare myself to bat the ball back. From the corner of my eye, I see my team position themselves too.
I keep my eyes locked on the ball as it slowly goes straight in my direction. However, the blinding light of the sun burns my eyes as I follow the ball with my gaze. I squint and immediately cover my hand over my face. Damn! I almost stumble backward as I feel the impact of the ball across my face—embarrassment crawls on my skin as I feel the excruciating pain spread across my face.
'Arh, I can't be more unfortunate today'
I hear my classmates laugh but I don't pay them any heed. The last thing I want is to be admitted to the hospital because of dehydration and fatigue. I prop my palms on my knees as I suck in a deep breath.
“Okay. That's enough. You can go back and take a shower now,” Our professor blows a whistle and yells. Finally! Being hit on my face has its perk. I listlessly drag my feet underneath a tree. I sag my buttocks on the grass before leaning against the tree. I fish the bottle of water out of my bag beside me and take a big gulp. I empty it but it seems not enough, my body probably needs a gallon of water right now.
I look up as my friend, Britney, stands in front of me. She appears tall in my position, but the truth is she only stands five feet and four inches.
She was the one who batted the ball. Yes. Friendship goals. Note the sarcasm. There's ice water shoved between her lips and there are strands of hair falling down her forehead.
“You should have exerted all your strength,” I say sarcastically, pertaining to the volleyball.
My breath is now even, and so is my heartbeat.
“You should have seen your face when the ball hit you.” She laughs and then brushes her hair with her fingers.
I give her a glare. "Yeah right. "
Mike, our classmate, suddenly wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Hi, Babe.” He winks at her. He's chewing something in his mouth. He always chews something every day. Britney nudges his stomach and gets rid of his arm. "Get off me."
“Donovan, Nice catch,” He teases before he leaves laughing. I don't pay him any heed. Mike is an absolute self-proclaimed playboy, and he's proud of what title he gives to himself. I don't understand why many girls fall in his 'playboy' card.
“You should have seen your face." I copy what she said and her expression.
“Tsk. That jerk,” she says as she follows his back with her deathly glare.
After we take a shower and change into our uniform, we head back towards our classroom. Britney keeps talking at my side, showing off how she led her team and how good she is at volleyball. All I want right now is to rest because I feel like anytime soon my knees will collapse. On top of that, the scorching sun above is not helping me.
We reach our room after ten minutes of walking. I immediately slump my butt in my chair and inhale the cold, fresh air in the room, and a short time later, I notice my energy rapidly returning.
I close my eyes, wanting to take a nap while I wait for our last subject.
Just when my eyes are about to feel heavy in their sockets, a student's laugh from the hallway reaches our room. I can feel an irritated frown crease deeply in my forehead. I knit my eyebrows and tilt my head to see the culprit. Tyler, our senior, comes into view. I'm not sure whose laugh it is, but that's the ugliest laugh I've ever heard in my entire life.
Tyler is actually good looking. He is popular, but there are students more popular than him. I wonder who he is looking for. He's standing in the doorframe. His eyes roam around inside, whilst a smile still plasters across his face. Looking at him, I think he stands around six feet. Not bad. I say inside my head while nodding, affirming my own claim.
Behind him are his three friends, whose names I don't remember. They are all good looking, but Tyler's face stands out the most among them. They seem to be looking for someone. I guess.
My classmate, Dyann, who's infamous for being a flirt, catches them standing in the door frame. She immediately stands in front of them, wriggling her butt. Obviously, she is trying to catch their—Tyler's attention, but to her utter embarrassment, he only ignores her and looks past her shoulder. Sad. Her skill at flirting doesn't work on him. I thought while shaking my head. I want to stand up and give Tyler a round of applause, but his eyes unexpectedly meet mine.
I think he caught me on the verge of laughing while looking at them.
I raise an eyebrow but he doesn't budge. His expression doesn't even fluctuate a bit.
“Who are you looking at?” Britney suddenly emerges out of nowhere at my side. She leans over. There's a makeup brush in her hand. I see her follow my gaze towards the door frame.
“Can you please stop emerging out of nowhere?” She only laughs.
I roll my eyes.
I don't say anything else and immediately draw my attention back to Tyler but to my huge disbelief, he's now nowhere to be found. Where is he? I catch his friends' back leaving, going down the right side of the hallway.
“Tyler? He left after Jessica handed her a small box.”
I see Dyann stomp her feet. She pouts her lips then goes back to her friends. Disappointed that her hidden talent doesn't work on Tyler.
Serves her right.
“Why?” I blurt out without thinking. Sometimes, I just want to slap my mouth and burry myself.
“Why? Of course! He has a class. Unless... you want him to stay?"
“No. Shut up. I'm not talking about him. " I say nonchalantly, thinking it would be a good excuse, but knowing her?
“Just forget it.” I add up when I see her unrelenting mouth about to say something. She whips her hair with her hand.
Our next professor arrives, Mr. Hernandez, our science teacher. He had been accused of torturing an unknown student here on our campus, but I really doubted it. Actually, almost everyone was doubting it. It's not because we were biased and we favored Mr. Hernandez over the alleged tortured student. Look. I don't like or hate him. Mr. Hernandez has been a great professor, and I know he values his profession. He receives a lot of commendation and praise almost every day for how effective he is as a professor. Obviously, knowing that he is always on top, it's normal that someone will exert effort to drag his name down, but obviously, their effort is in vain.
They are just wasting every bit of their time. No one knew what really happened. The rumor started last month. We arrived at school hearing this gossip everywhere, and last week, he was proved not guilty. I know the person behind this can't wait to see his name fall. Can the success of someone really be that painful? Why can't they just work hard?
The room immediately falls into silence, Britney is already in her chair, whispering something in a girl's ear beside her.
She looks at me. I raise an eyebrow at her to inform her that Mr. Hernandez is literally in front. She just rolls her eyes and then draws her attention back to the girl beside her. I just wish Mr. Hernandez wouldn't notice her.
After his question just elicits a long silence, he walks toward the door with heavy steps. For a second, I thought he had enough with us and would walk out, but I thought otherwise because that doesn't sound like him. He stops for a second, as if contemplating. His hands are shoved in his pockets. He roams his eyes inside before he decides to walk out. My classmates roar in panic and worry. They are even pointing someone to blame. I want to shut them all up because it's everyone's fault and I want to take a nap while he's outside.
“Whose fault is it?" Dyann with an exaggerated expression. Stupid. I want to roll my eyes at her and seal her mouth for once. Had I not stopped for two years, I wouldn't have ended up with these kids.