PHEMOLRIA

WE SAT ON OUR FAVORITE SPOT IN THE CAFETERIA, while my friends keep on talking about the movies and books they have read. I took a bite of my burger, listening to them with boredom. If it was about a tragic tale or comedy, maybe I was as inquisitive as them—but it wasn't. "Isn't it cute?!" Gina exclaimed. She is older than me and Kelly. It shows in the way she dresses and thinks, but when it comes to this she transforms. "How I wish I had that kind of love story!" Kelly agreed. "I will trade my bones for it!" She is my friend who loves to wear pink. "Do you know what made me jealous the most? The prince fought for the peasant to be his wife!" A prince fell in love with a poor girl? That was out of this world. Why would a young, handsome, and royal person marry a commoner, when in that kind of condition he can have or marry anyone he likes? Why did he decide to set himself in that type of situation instead, where it is forbidden? "Have you already studied for our oral recitation?" I interrupted. They looked at each other—the joint cue they had. "Here's the Grinch!" Kelly taunted. "Nothing's new." Gina jokingly rolled her eyes at me. "Where did I stop?” Having a friend like them is like a punishment to me. I do cherish them, but the thing I hate the most is they were too hopelessly romantic. Their world only revolves around fairytales—that they love to chat about. It's funny how they became my friends when I showed zero interest in their hobbies, but it was still inhumane to ask them to adjust just for me and I can already predict that they will just think that I am petty. After lunch, we attended our class together, but they were still talking about the book they had both read and I kept my mind busy with what we might do for the class later. I sat straight after noticing our teacher entering the front door of our classroom. We greeted her with a good morning and, like usual, she played back our lessons yesterday. "Guess who has an important announcement?" She took out a piece of paper. Whispers dispersed around like wildfire. There is hype and excitement on each of my classmates' faces while making their guesses. "Is that a play?" Most of them guessed that as a play. "Bingo, It's a play." Our teacher faced the paper to the class. "What's the theme, Ma'am?" It was Lana, our class president. I lend my ears to listen because I have this gut feeling. . . "Fairytale—" Our teacher hadn't even finished her statement, but my classmates couldn't hide their excitement and interrupted. We're just talking about that earlier. I mean, Gina and Kelly. But I still couldn't get why fairytales excite them. "Excuses, Ma'am. Why did they choose a fairytale as a theme?" I raised my hand. "There's a lot of more interesting genres than that. Can't we change it?" The eyes of my classmates automatically proceeded toward me. I looked at them innocently. Is asking a question an offense now? I still could hear their negative statements about me even though they pushed so hard to whisper everything. "We can't change the theme, Ms. Jimenez. Lorrou Performing Arts School personally came up with a fairytale theme, because they think it's catchy, even though you believe it's cliche." Every first quarter there is a theater play held in our school and one of the well-known students from LPAS was sent to our school to practice her or his acting skills. They want to train their students outside their school for more exposure and always select our school as the venue and organizer because the directors are curious about what the students in our school could propose. The only new thing is that they chose our section, particularly for this year's event, and right after the play, the LPAS Director will choose some from our class for whom they would like to be their scholar in their art school once whoever is chosen, graduates. I am not that interested in that field. Instead, I want to be inside the court while defending someone. To be a lawyer is my only dream. "Do you have an issue regarding it, Miss Jimenez?" I desired to declare that it was very hideous, but, of course, everyone liked it. How would I force them to do what I want instead? The majority always wins in the end. "Did they pick the casts already, Ma'am?" Gina raised a question. The loud chaos commenced again. Some of them recommend someone, while some of them recommend themselves. "Lorrou already sent a student as the leading man for whichever story the stage play director might choose. There is still no story chosen, so the whole cast hasn't been decided yet, except for the leading man. "Who's the leading man, Ma'am?" Aldrin questioned. The silence took in the whole room for an instant before our teacher answered. "Frankly, that kid had skills and I can't deny the truth that he is very handsome. I am also confident that he can hold up the play because I watched him in every LPAS event. His name is Marcus. . . Marcus Demega." Everyone was surprised after our teacher revealed the star of the play. We all knew that we already heard his name somewhere. On cue, I and both Gina and Kelly looked at each other. "Marcus Demega, for real?" I can sense Lana's doubt. "You all look bothered. Is there a problem?" We should celebrate because LPAS won't send a student who isn't a star figure and the percentage of raising a big fund from the viewers will soar up high, but the thought that we might have a hard time with him during the upcoming rehearsals bothers us. Last year, it was a bit easy for the senior students because LPAS sent a female lead, but this year they sent a male lead—and worse—it was Marcus Demega. Kelly tilted on me to whisper, "Holy cow, I think it's his penalty for being a Yank last time." I didn't respond. "I don't think so," Gina did. "He's one of LPAS's aces, why would they penalize him?" "Why did they send Marcus, Ma'am? Last month, he had an issue after hurting a girl. Everyone knows about it, so who would watch us when he's hated by most of the people who knew about the scandal?" I remember that someone recorded that incident and it went viral online. LPAS was dragged down because of it and it made me wonder why they still kept him and even gave him a big project. We waited for our teacher's answer patiently. There are so many good student actors in LPAS, why do they have to send Marcus? Do they desire to pull us down with them? "The teachers had already addressed it, but our school director and the administration disagreed. Marcus was sent to alter the bad image that he created in the public's eye. We don't know the exact reason why he behaved that way that day, so we have no right to judge. Let's help him instead, class." She forced a smile but was still cagey if we'd be delighted about it. Yes, he is so famous that even our teachers know him. Another thing, he has already appeared in commercials and has been cast in supporting roles in big films locally even though he hasn't graduated yet. Upon realizing that nothing would change, everyone in our class bowed their heads in dismay. Now, this is great. I hope they won't include me as a staff or director for the play, because I am sure Marcus will only give me headaches. Though I never had any interactions with him, I heard he's arrogant and I am short-tempered—what a good combination to turn out as a catastrophe. "Then, who will choose the whole cast?" Aldrin asked. "Let's leave it to the director. Miss Jimenez, I heard you have already done directing. Before you go home, go to our school's library to pick a story to use for the play, understand?" My jaw dropped as I pointed at myself. Even my classmates were as surprised as me. "Your name as the director of the play is already written here, LPAS personally chose you because our school director recommended you. If you want to appeal go to his office, but I can guarantee you'll lose the opportunity to have higher grades as an incentive." She fixed her table before opening the front door. "That's all for today, I will see you tomorrow. Good luck, Thrysia." I can't believe this is happening. How the hell did they know about my existence? I tone up my head and I see Aldrin. "What?" I attempted not to sound furious, but it didn't ensue. A few hours after the class ended, and it still worries me. Of all fiction, why does it have to be a fairytale? I am willing to do it, but not a fairytale. "Promise us that you won't kill the leads in the story, Our Dear Thrysia. Please, don't make it tragic!" It was Kelly, saying it hysterically. Once my boiling point was reached, I would slay the main characters without hesitation. "Shut up," I hissed. "Kelly, stop teasing her. What if she backs out and ends up getting low grades?" Gina said. I looked at them madly. They were using reversed psychology to me. "I'll go ahead." I walked quickly to leave them. "You two fantasize about your prince charming." "What? Where are you going?" Gina tried to come after me. "To the library to find a tragic story!" I ran after that, so they wouldn't be able to follow me. It was already five o'clock in the afternoon, so it was already dark outside. Thankfully, the librarian's duty is until six in the evening, so the library is still available. I never appreciated the smell of books, it smells old. I moved to the fairytale section to search for an uncommon story, but all of the stories there were already popular. I nearly got that kind of book when a bigger and denser book caught my sight as it sparkled, so I reached for it instead, but it was so heavy that I crouched to hold it properly while its weight was battling with me. "Phemolria?" I read its title. I had never heard of this book before, but it was kind of interesting. I gazed upon the labels on the shelves to ensure that I was in the right section and confirmed that I was still in the fairytale section. This is indeed a fairytale book. Maybe this will work. I am too exhausted to hear the exact stories from Gina and Kelly to choose them for the play. I hope this will work, so I can refer this as early as possible to the scriptwriter after studying the story. I put the book on the librarian's table that was almost above my chest. My jaw dropped when the librarian faced me. She is old, and her pointed and big nose makes her look like a wizard. Is she new here? Since when? Where was the librarian before? "I'll take this," I said. Gradually, her eyes went down to the book on her table. I automatically follow her gaze. "Do you like fairytales?" She fixed her reading glasses after a smirk. The dreadful atmosphere began to strew "I don't," I answered. Her eyes stayed on the book as she beams. "You know, it can be real sometimes." The way she spoke went slower. "How do you think it feels to live inside of it?" What is she saying? I am just here to borrow the book. It is unreasonable to question things such as that. "What do you mean?" I asked with a slight annoyance. "That being one of the characters is great, but miserable at the same time?" "What do you want me to do then? I don't get your point." I tried to control my temper. "If I were to believe, would it benefit me? Would something beautiful and great happen?" "Possibly or you will be able to see the kindness and morals it conveys—perhaps find your true love." I stare at her, wanting to chuckle. "Do you mean, by reading a hopeless fairytale?" I asked, sarcastically. Her lips constructed a grim line. "I see, I was right. You hate fairytales." Isn't it obvious? "Kindly, sign here." Her eyes didn't leave my face as she pointed at the exact spot where should she have liked me to sign. I rolled my eyes before putting in my signature, choosing to forget about our conversation just a second ago. I nearly left when she said, "When you are finally inside. . . you will find out." Although it frightened me, I chose to ignore it once again and leave the library, which turned into a strange place for me as I had never been there before because of the feeling it gave me. After I got home, immediately I went to the kitchen to get some snacks to eat in my room as I studied the book that I got from the library. "I hope you're the one we needed because I had a hard time carrying you home!" I said, talking with the book. I gulped my cola as I examined the book above my table. The book cover was extraordinary, including the pink leather and metallic gold to outline the title, but there is no author indicated, and has a metal lock that uses a heart-shaped button. I slowly clicked the button with my pointer finger and after a matter of seconds, it unlocked. "Seriously?" It was unbelievable—a storybook with a fancy lock on it for who knows the reason. I tried to look for an author's name inside the book because I couldn't find it on the book cover, hoping that it was just inside, but there was nothing written on it. Every page is blank. I skimmed it by page and shook the book, making myself think through it the words on the pages might show, but a page at the back part of it fell on the floor instead. "Why were you in the library if you're blank and useless?" I cursed in frustration, getting crazy to even talk with the book. I harshly closed the book and lay on the bedside with wrath. Why is there nothing written inside? It was giving me goosebumps. I looked out the window to watch the sky, trying to calm myself down, seeing that there were only a few traces of thin clouds in the night sky, so the view of the stars was clear. I think I am going crazy right now because the book caught my attention again, like I am starting to hallucinate. . . and the sparks. Now a pink and bright lively star appeared in my sight, mixing up with the normal-looking stars. My science teacher said back in junior high school that stars have different colors, but I don't remember that there was a pink—and it is—so the difference from the stars in the atmosphere is enormous. It almost gave me a heart attack after my phone rang. I lazily reached for it above my table while I was lying on my bed. "Hello?" I put it on loudspeaker mode, so I could listen to her more. "What book have you got?" It was Kelly. "Nothing," I answered. While I look at the book on my table. "Don't get your hopes up too easily. The staff won't choose you as a cast," I teased. "You're too mean!" My eyebrows furrowed. I don't remember if I left the book open. And there was. . . light. "Hey, Thrysia. Are you still there?" I wrapped my hands around my mouth after realizing that the light came from the book. Instead of running, I chose to move closer to the book. "W-what. . ." I placed my hands above it and felt how cold it was. Until my scream was the only part of me left in my room—because the light dragged me inside the book. (Once upon a time, there was a girl who didn't believe in fairytales. . .)