The Real Me

Chapter 20. A Tangled Web

Anastasia's Pov

I settled into my usual prep routine, waiting for Beatrice.

The sound of my name being called behind me made my heart skip a beat.

Bridget's face flashed in my mind, and I turned slowly, bracing myself for her wrath.

But instead of Bridget's scowl, Diana's hopeful smile greeted me.

"Anas! Could you lend me your math textbook?" she asked, her eyes wide with urgency.

"I was looking for you this afternoon, but you weren't around. I really need it for my assignment!"

I hesitated, my mind racing. "I'm actually using it for my own assignment," I said, trying to sound apologetic.

The truth was, my book was buried deep in my bag back in my room, and the thought of rummaging through the chaos felt like an insurmountable task.

Diana's expression dimmed, and a pang of guilt shot through me.

"Maybe next time?" I suggested, forcing a smile.

She nodded, but the disappointment lingered in her eyes as she turned to walk away.

I watched her retreat, a mix of emotions swirling within me.

But before she had taken more than a few steps, Diana spun back around, her expression shifting from disappointment to determination.

"What about I join you during prep so we can use it together?" Her eyes sparkled with hope.

My stomach sank. I thought I'd dodged that bullet, but it seemed fate had other plans.

I forced a smile and nodded, feeling a wave of irritation wash over me.

"Thanks," she said, her voice brightening as she turned to walk away again.

As I watched her retreat, a silent groan escaped my lips.

Now I had to go dig out my textbook and face the hassle that came with it.

I trudged back into our room, where Beatrice was still fussing with her outfit, oblivious to my turmoil.

I rummaged through my bag, finally pulling out the textbook.

Beatrice finished getting ready, and we headed out to campus together.

As we walked, she asked, "Are you studying math today?" referring to the textbook in my hand.

"It's not just for me; Diana wants it," I replied with a hiss, settling into steps with her.

Beatrice's eyebrow arched. "Why did you feel compelled to give it to her?"

I let out a soft laugh. "You have no idea what I went through to get that out of my bag."

Beatrice's expression remained unimpressed.

"You should've just told her it wasn't with you."

A mix of annoyance and gratitude swirled within me.

Beatrice had a knack for seeing things clearly, while I often stumbled in moments like this.

We reached the classroom, where students milled about, their chatter filling the air as the clock ticked towards prep time.

Beatrice and I settled into our seats, and the absence of weekend assignments loomed over me like a dark cloud.

I felt a wave of laziness wash over me, and the thought of studying throughout prep weigh heavily on my mind.

Sometimes, I couldn't shake the feeling that my mom was right—maybe I was just as dumb as she claimed.

After all, a good student wouldn’t hesitate to hit the books.

"Anas," Beatrice called, breaking through my thoughts and prompting me to look at her.

She hadn’t joined the throng of roaming students; instead, she sat there, her eyes focused on me.

I raised my eyebrows, silently urging her to continue.

"Is it true that you and Gilbert kissed today?" she asked, her voice low.

My eyes widened, feeling like they might pop out of my head.

What on earth was she talking about?

"What are you talking about?" I finally managed, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping.

"Well I heard you guys kissed this afternoon beside the bookshop," she said casually, her expression curious, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"How? Where did you hear that? Who said it?" I asked, annoyance creeping into my tone, accompanied by a frantic heartbeat.

"It's just a yes or no question, so just answer it. It's not a big deal," she replied, her tone light.

"No, we didn't, and I want to know who said that," I insisted, my mind racing.

This was more than just gossip for me; I knew the sting of rumors and didn’t want to go through that in senior high.

"It’s Bridget who told me. She said I should warn you because she doesn’t want to fight with you," Beatrice explained.

"Bridget? Huh. Thanks for that," I chuckled, a bitter taste in my mouth.

It seemed clear to me that she was itching for a confrontation.

"Just forget about her. Maybe someone saw you two together and assumed," Beatrice suggested, but I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to let it slide.

"Hey," Gilbert's voice cut through the chatter, drawing my attention.

"There you are. Have you heard what's going on about us?" I asked, my gaze drifting over him.

His pink lips, perfectly shaped with a subtle curve, drew my eyes—plump and inviting, they had a soft, gentle hue that made me momentarily forget my frustration.

His brow furrowed, a mix of confusion and curiosity etched across his face.

"What’s going on?" he asked, glancing between me and Beatrice.

"They're saying we were eating each other's faces this afternoon beside the bookshop," I replied, my tone light but pointed, hoping he’d grasp the absurdity.

"What?" His frown deepened, and I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

It wasn’t that he was funny; I just had this tendency to laugh in awkward situations.

"Beatrice, tell him!" I nudged her, but instead of jumping in, she wore a tense expression that caught my attention.

"Beatrice?" I called again, but she forced a laugh that echoed false.

Something was off.

Without another word, she stood up abruptly and walked away, leaving me puzzled.

"What did she say?" Gilbert asked, sliding into her vacated seat.

"She said Bridget told her to warn me," I replied, glancing toward the door where Beatrice had just disappeared, then back at Gilbert.

"About what exactly, Ana?" His voice was laced with annoyance, impatience creeping in.

"About us kissing," I said, a smile playing on my lips as I glanced away, the weight of those words suddenly pressing down on me.

"What? Who said that?" Gilbert's tone shifted, seriousness creeping into his expression.

"Bridget, who else?" I whispered, lowering my voice as if the name itself held power.

"It wasn't Bridget," he replied after a pause, his brow furrowing.

"She didn't even know I was with you this afternoon."

Confusion swirled in my mind. What did he mean by that?

"I’ll be right back," he said, rising from his chair and striding away, leaving me alone amidst the hum of chatter and laughter filling the classroom.

The siren blared moments later, signaling the start of prep.

I grabbed my notebook and placed it beside my textbook, hoping that any senior who walked in would think I was diligently studying.

But my mind raced with questions. Where was Beatrice?

Had she been lying to me?

The uncertainty gnawed at me as I scanned the room, searching for answers that seemed just out of reach.