Chase & Dawn

Chapter III

I did not know I was capable of getting overly pissed off by a person until Jonathan and Badger kept pestering me throughout the morning classes. The latter was not entirely annoying. He only chimed in every time Badger said something as stupid as his last name. They were too loud altogether and I did not realize I had such infuriating classmates until the two of them decided to badger the hell out of me.

“Just shut the goddamn up!” I expressed my annoyance for the nth time. There were only five minutes left until Calc's done but I couldn't wait any longer.

“We're just asking about the final project,” Badger responded. The fact that they decided to sit beside me when they never used to only proved their penchant for fooling around.

“I already told you countless times that I will do it.”

Jonathan snorted. “You barely even listened to Mrs. Parker's instructions.”

He was right. I dozed off halfway through Literature (which was unusual because I never sleep in a class). But I guess it was only because I've been restless since last night. All I knew was that our final project was about promoting literature but I knew not about the little details.

“Then, just tell me what I should do,” I said impatiently. The wall clock above Mr. Stevenson's bald head seemed to stop ticking the longer I stared at it. Time just wouldn't fly when you wanted it to pass by so badly.

“What's with your constant usage of the I pronoun?”

Badger's intrusiveness caught me off guard for the first time. Averting my eyes from the clock, I turned my head leftward and looked at him. My reaction was involuntary so when I found out that Badger has his head turned towards me all this time, his chin propped up on his right hand, my lashes fluttered in awkwardness. He was unnecessarily close.

“Don't you like it? I'm offering to do it myself,” I pretended to sound rude but it was lame even in my ears.

My gaze lingered on Badger — an act of covering up my disturbed composure. He, however, did not seem to be affected by my stare when he talked. “The fact that you are willing to do it all by yourself implies that you are, in no doubt, unconfident with your groupmates.”

It isn't like that, I thought. Or is it? The bell I was anticipating went off and I took that as a cue to avert my eyes. My fingers fumbled to zip my backpack as I hurried to go away.

When I stood up and started walking, I heard Badger from behind me. “Sorry, Aurora, but we won't let you do the project yourself. Where's the fun in that?”

I turned my head and rolled my eyes at him. “Of course, it's about the fun.”

Students were scrambling as I made it out of the classroom. A deep breath escaped from my mouth when I luckily evaded Badger and Jonathan and I jogged my way out of the building. My phone beeped and when I checked the message, I felt a tiny sense of relief.

From: Jackson

See ya at the cafeteria!

So I walked straight to the cafeteria. I texted Lory on my way, filling her in about Jackson. She replied with a simple “Just make sure he wouldn't hurt you,” so I guess she's indeed sincere with her intention of giving him a chance.

It was not that hard to look for Jackson. His tall frame stood out even when he's sitting with the other lacrosse team members. They were laughing loudly so I hesitated to approach him. Though I knew their names, I wasn't completely casual with Jackson's pals. It's not like I always watch their games; I found lacrosse boring.

Having made up my mind, I texted Jackson: I'm here.

It took him two minutes to check his phone. He immediately raised his head from being bent down because of laughing. Seeing me, he waved his hand and smiled. “Come here!”

I made a What the hell look as I slowly walked to their table. His guy friends started looking at me when I reached them. Some of them uttered a quick Hi and the rest proceeded with their animated conversation.

“Scoot over there,” Jackson commanded the bulky Peter. “Dawn, sit beside me.”

Is he serious? I thought we were going to talk about something private but with this crowd, I did not think so. Am I thinking ahead again?

Jackson offered to buy my food and before I could say no, he was running for the counter already, leaving me with this bunch of testosterone.

I focused on my phone and pretended to text Lory as I sat, my back as stiff as a wall. But to my dismay, one of them (Nathan, if my memory served me right) scooted over Jackson's seat and talked to me. “I like your hair.”

What's with people talking about my hair? The guys who heard him snickered and I wasn't sure if they were making fun of me. Not wanting to be preyed on, I dismissed them with a fake smile.

“It must be fun to have someone run errands for you.”

It was barely said, but I heard it clear enough. My throat ran dry; it was like running out of saliva because I have swallowed it all. The chattering of the students around me played a trick on my mind and I was almost convinced that every word they said was directed to me.

Jackson arrived with a tray of fries and burger in his hands, placing them on the table in front of me. He hardly had his attention on me so I retaliated by merely nodding whenever he said something to me but he did not notice my distress.

I picked on the fries and urged myself to eat my discomfort away. Glancing at Jackson, I thought about what Lory said to me. Her words were fueled by the statement I overheard earlier. Now, I couldn't look at Jackson without noticing the red flags.

Lunch passed by in the blink of an eye, ending with Jackson walking me to my afternoon class. He did not hint anything about the confession to me this morning and though it took every ounce of my self-control, I kept myself from starting a discussion. I kept myself from being a pushover.

“Bye, Dawn.”

“Um, Jax—”

He was gone, as swift as the wind. What happened to the “I like you, Dawn” ? Is he merely leading me on? If my thoughts could reach Lory right now, she'd surely say, “Of course, Dawny. He's been leading you on from the very beginning.”

“The hell with it,” I muttered, trying to rid my mind off of any distractions as I stared at the whiteboard.

Lory and I left the school together after class when she decided to stay at our house for a while. She sprawled on my bed, leaving me no choice but to sit on the windowsill. Picking up the purple marker I spotted on the floor, I asked her. “Ready for your calc quiz on Monday?”

Lory snorted. “I guess so,” she replied. “I just have to review the pointers you gave me and I'm good to go.”

I bit the tip of the marker to uncap it and busied myself by scribbling on the glass window. Looking through, I traced the portion of the cul-de-sac I glimpsed, mimicking every single detail like the curb and the fences of our house and the houses nearby. A white car speeded and I sketched its fading image at the edge of the glass. Stacy always claimed that I have a knack for art back when I was still sketching and painting as a hobby, and I knew she was right when I beheld my finished artwork. “If only you take half of your time studying and use it for honing your artistry instead, you'd make into a modern Picasso someday,” she used to say.

“Artists barely make a living,” I would reply to Stacy. Besides, Mom wouldn't agree. She would think I was too smart to be simply dabbing paint on the canvas, just as she thought Stacy was too brainy to become a theater actress. When Mom said it was a compliment, I came up with the conclusion that mothers did not always know the best. The only best she knew was what's best for her, not for me nor Stacy.

“Dawny, make a miniature of me at the corner of the street,” Lory suggested. Boredom made her say that and I knew I was also bored enough to continue drawing. I did not only sketch Lory. Beside her, I drew myself in the most convincing representation I could make. A giggle escaped from my mouth out of amusement when I finished drawing me and Lory.

“I'm thinking about tequila and beer pong.” Oh, no. She can't start this game. I did not respond, pretending not to hear her.

“Ahem,” Lory mockingly coughed. “I just told you what I was thinking.”

Returning the cap of the marker, I turned to face Lory. “I'm thinking about how I hated parties,” I sarcastically replied. I knew it; she stayed over to convince me to go to the party hosted by one of her classmates.

She sat up and grabbed a pillow. “It's freaky Friday, Dawny. A little fun won't kill you.”

“Yeah, but my Mom will.”

“Stacy said your Mom's staying at the inn because she's overworking. Travelers are flocking because of the upcoming fiesta of the nearby town.”

I pondered over the situation and sighed. “Never mind. Stacy will not allow me.”

Lory jumped out of the bed and threw the pillow on me. “I bet you my whole life,” she said, pulling me up and dragging me with her to Stacy's room.

My big sister immediately opened the wooden door after two knocks. She smiled at Lory and I wouldn't be surprised if it's because she knew we needed something. “Hi, Loriel!”

Lory's face grimaced after hearing her first name. “Um, hi, big sis! So I was thinking, can Dawny and I go over to Bridget's house tonight? I promise to bring her home before ten, unscathed, safe, and sound like a hummingbird.”

My palm involuntarily flew to my face to cover it. I gave Lory a look that said You did something stupid. She just shrugged me off and waited for Stacy's feedback.

“It is not another group study, isn't it?”

“Yeah! Group study. We needed a genius like her to give us a hand.”

Where Lory was used to making up things just to get her way through, I wasn't. I was a bad liar, especially with Stacy. One look from her and I knew she's read me like an open book, leaving no chance of lying.

Sighing, I butted in. “It's a party.”

Lory slapped my back in frustration. “And here I went through all the trouble just to get the permission we needed.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Blind permission doesn't work on me, you know that.”

“If I know, you just don't wanna go.”

My eyes attempted another roll. Stacy was only observing our banter. Her silence bothered me so I spoke. “I wasn't interested in going. I was planning to review my Biology notes tonight.”

To my surprise, Stacy said, “Study? But it's Friday.”

“Yes! I told her the same thing,” Lory interjected.

Studying Stacy's face, I slowly frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You can go,” she replied coolly. “I won't tell Mom.”

Lory squealed and flung her arms to Stacy's neck. “Your the best big sis I never had!”

Still doubtful, I prodded her to convince me further. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “No drinks and boys.”

Lory took out my excitement and expressed it for me by jumping up and down. “I'll look after her, I swear.”

My mind was still stunned as we went back to my room. Lory excitedly rummaged into my closet for some party apparel. Producing a spaghetti-strapped blue dress, she walked towards me and threw it on my lap. I looked at the dress disgustingly. “You know I wouldn't wear that crap.”

She raised her brows. “I know, that's why I'm wearing it.”

I should have known that it was for her. Lory stripped herself down to her undies in front of me and wore the dress. It fitted her perfectly. “Now, your turn.”

Unconfident with her sense of fashion, I volunteered to choose my clothes. I settled on a black crop top and faded denim that made Lory mockingly puke. “At least wear something short on the bottom, church girl.”

It was already quarter to eight so I heeded Lory's suggestion. We walked out of the house at exactly eight, Lory flaunting her curves with the blue dress while I anxiously looked at the crop top and high-waist shorts I wore. For the first time in a long time, I let my hair down because I felt bare enough to expose my neck, too.