The Next Heiress

Chapter 19 - Scandal

CELINE SUAREZ.

Using my spoon, I scoop the last piece of meat from a black bowl. My head draws back as my mouth slurps the tasty broth of Beef Pares. After guzzling the brown-colored soup till the last drop, I let out a loud satisfied burp, tapping my happy stomach repeatedly.

Across from my seat, Brielle stares at me while she eats her seafood-flavored noodles. Her hooded eyes are squinting in annoyance—probably trying to tease me due to my shameless eating habits. To add fire to her growing flame of piss, she puts her chopsticks down the table and wipes her lips gently with a pastel purple handkerchief.

"Wow, stop acting like that," I scold her in a playful tone, hitting her arm. "We both know that you can eat like there's tomorrow like me."

She rolls her eyes. "Duh, Celine. I've changed! I have proper table manners now."

"Whatever, Bri," my forehead creases at her odd response, yet I still manage to laugh. "Anyway, do you have some desserts?"

"Hmm," she mumbles, chewing her food. "I have a candy here."

I lean forward. "A candy? What kind—"

Suddenly, my question is interrupted by an abrupt vibration of an object. When I shift my eyes down, there I see my phone on the beige round table. With squished brows, I get the gadget to have look on it. To my surprise, there is a push notification on the lock screen. 

0966 164 5400 - ONE NEW TEXT MESSAGE.

"Brielle?" I call my best friend's attention.

The fair-skinned gal glances at me. "Yes?"

"Do you know this number?" I ask, handing her my floral-cased phone.

My bosom buddy gets the gadget, looks at the screen, then she gives it back to me. "No. I don't know. Why?"

I stare at her, being dumbfounded at the moment.

"Silly," she chuckles. "Read it first before you overthink."

My head nods at her suggestion. Instead of thinking other strange things, I tap the push notification to read the content of the text message.

0966 164 5400  

Good morning, Ms. Celine Suarez. This is Mr. Herbert Cortez, your Statistics professor. Please proceed to my office, S-0613 at the second floor. I have something important to discuss with you. Thank you.

My eyes widen at the screen. "Oh my god...do you think I failed Statistics?"

"What?!" Brielle shoves her last piece of noodles down to her mouth. "Let me read that!"

The surprised-looking girl takes the smart device out of my hands to read the text message. After a few seconds, she glances at me with a confused expression written onto her oval-shaped face. "That's strange," she says, pinching her chin. "He never does that to his other students."

I lift a brow. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe, he sees you more than his student," she snorts noisily. A few drops of liquid squirts out from her nose. "Oh, sorry!"

"Ew, you're gross! I thought you already have proper table manners now?" I jest, laughing at her idiotic move.

Brielle and I have spent another ten minutes from our one hour lunch break by chuckling at her embarrassing moment and exchanging insults about ourselves. When our funny jiff subsides, we stand up from the round metal chairs to go outside the cafeteria, but before we exit, a man suddenly passes through my mind, causing to pause myself from walking.

Tadeo...are you fine? I ask as if I can talk to him inside my mind.

My lips form a warm smile as I remember the warm moment of us eating together the foods that I've cooked. Tadeo has really liked my tastier and spicier version of Kinilaw—a raw fish salad. I could exactly recall how his face turned red in color when he ate his third round of the dish yesterday. I find myself giggling at my own thoughts.

"What's wrong?" Brielle asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

I shake my head awkwardly. "Nothing."

"Uhm, okay," she shrugs. "So...come on? To restroom?"

When my head nods in response, Brielle grabs my arm, pulling me out of the cafeteria to go to the ladies' restroom before heading to my Statistics professor's office. It is part of our habit after eating to go there to freshen up ourselves before spending the remaining minutes of our lunchtime.

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Brielle and I stare at each other in an awkward and frustrating silence. It has been almost five minutes since we are already outside of Mr. Cortez's office, but no one from the two of us dares to knock on the door before I go inside. Time is ticking, and soon, the bell will ring as the end of our recess.

"Celine, why don't you knock?" She asks, crossing her arms. "Besides you're the one that he needs."

I gulp down. "I'm nervous. Help me."

She raises a brow. "Why should I? You can do it. God, you're so old—"

"Ugh," my eyes roll in annoyance. "Whatever."

My right foot steps forward, then the other one follows. I heave out a deep sigh. When I release the heavy air out of my lungs, my right hand curls up into a ball to knock on the black matte door for three times.

"Mr. Cortez?" I call out softly. "This is Celine Suarez."

I hear somebody clearing his throat from the inside. "Come in," the husky voice says.

My head turns around to glance at my best friend before going in.

"Go inside. I'll go back to the restroom. I'm going to wait you there," Brielle whispers, motioning me to come inside.

I nod my head in approval.

After getting my response, Brielle runs out of the scene, and here I am, twisting the bronze doorknob gently, and allowing the door to click open. Upon entering, I am welcomed by a sight of a man dressed in a navy blue long sleeves. His hands are on his back, and he is facing at the huge glass window in front of him, probably watching the students within the campus. Just by peering at his formal attire gives me the idea of him that he has ironed it carefully this morning. This man never fails to surprise me with his studious trait.

Meticulous. Just like my mom, I smile at the thought. 

I close the door behind me, and let my head roam around. There are eight office cubicles on the left part of the room. They are divided into two parts, resulting into four cubicles that are facing each other. Each partition desk has a faculty member who's doing his or her job. When they see me, suddenly, some of them begin to exchange whispers, causing to lower my head in shyness.

Because of the uncomfortable encounter, I wait for my Statistics professor to turn around instead of calling out his attention. Fortunately, he inserts his left hand on his pocket to get something out of it, which is a silver pen, but then it slips from his hand, dropping it on the floor accidentally.

"Oh," he mutters.

The man observes the pen's movement. His eyes follow its circling action until it rolls near my black shiny shoes. Immediately, I get the silver pen from the tiled floor to return it to him.

"Mr. Cortez?"

From looking down the floor, his head rises up to glance at my face. "Oh, you're here, Ms. Suarez."

To give a somewhat respectful gesture, I nod at him and give him a warm smile, then my hand returns the silver pen to him. On the corners of my eyes, I could see his colleagues staring at us with sharp eyes, as if I have done something against the school rules.

What the hell is wrong with them? I ask myself mentally, wanting to roll my eyes as far as I can. 

Mr. Herbert Cortez nods at me in return, getting the silver pen from my hand. After doing so, he motions me to come inside the small office on the right part of the room, which I assume as the place where the students can talk to their professor about private or personal matters.

"Come," he orders in a soft tone.

I trail behind him. As my Professor steps inside, he waits for my turn to enter too. When I'm finally inside, he closes the door gently, shutting the malicious looks of the other teachers.

"Don't mind them," he says, shaking his head with a smug expression on his face. "They can be too judgmental."

I nod my head at his comment.

He points on a chair beside the table. "Anyway, you may sit down."

My lips form a fiddly smile. He watches as I lean my butt on the thick cushion of the black metal chair. I could feel my nerves getting a little squirmy due to the awkward moment.

"Good morning, Mr.Cortez," I push my balled fist on my mouth, trying to cough just to brush off the ticklish atmosphere inside the small office.

He beams, sitting on the main office chair. "Well, good morning too, Ms. Celine Suarez."

"Why did you text me?" I ask, opening the topic first.

Mr. Cortez hasn't answered at my question. Instead, he points at my shoes with his pointer finger. "Take them off," he orders. His tone is calm yet so full of authority.

"M-my...what?" I tremble.

"Your shoes," he stares at me. "Especially your long, white socks."

I gulp down. My body freezes on my position, unable what to say or to do at his sudden request. Thousands of negative thoughts begin to run inside my mind. They are so many of them that I couldn't grasp the reality happening in front of my eyes. There's a big part of me that wants him to punch already, but I already feel so scared right at this nerve-wracking situation.

"C-can I ask first?" I stammer, holding my tears back. "Why?"

"I'll just look at your legs," he answers quickly.

Upon hearing his eerie reason, my eyes broaden in surprise. With just a single sentence from him, my respect immediately diminishes. Disgust covers my whole being. What makes me sick is the fact that he has responded to my question so fast as if his intention is not a big deal for him.

Fuck. What a prick.

With no hesitations, I stand up from my seat to head towards the door. Immediately, my right hand grabs the doorknob.

"Wait. Where are you going?" My Professor asks me, sounding a bit confused at my actions.

Before twisting it open, I let out an exasperated sigh, then turn around to glance directly at his face. "You are...sick."

His forehead wrinkles in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"Wow. I can't believe it," I scoff, crossing my arms. "You're calling yourself a Professor?"

In a swift manner, Mr. Herbert Cortez stands from the office chair. Panic is evident to his body language. "No, no. Please listen to me. You don't understand. I'm just straight to my point every time I talk to somebody," he explains in a nervous voice, waving his hands in assurance.

"Straight to...what?!" My voice raises. "Enlighten me then," I could still feel the heat of fury within my cheeks.

The tensed-looking man gulps down, slumping himself back to the seat. His expression abruptly changes into a serious face as if he is reminiscing something.

"Well, I heard the incident at the party," he lowers his head. "Mr. Jim Salvador has told me everything, including the wound on your leg."

I lift a brow, being confused at him.

"I just want to see your wound in person...if you wouldn't mind. I apologize for my choice of words," the middle-aged man explains, bowing his head slightly.

My head tilts in wonder. "But why?"

He caresses his temple. "You remind me of someone."

"Me?" With his absurd reply, lots of questions flood my brain even more.

Mr. Cortez closes his eyes. "Someone that I will never forget..." he tells, running his hand through his hair.

I stare at him in puzzlement, unable to pinpoint what he wants to convey.

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After convincing me for several minutes that his intentions are pure, I finally show the caterpillar-shaped scar on my right leg. Upon seeing it for the first time, Mr. Cortez quickly casts a very surprising expression on his face. His almond-shaped eyes are widened, and the color drains from his cheeks and lips, like he has just witnessed a ghost, which makes me more intrigued about that someone that he's talking about.

Eventually, he walks me out of the office. I could still feel the other faculty members looking on me with death stares as if I've done something morally wrong at them. As I make my way out of this little chamber of hell, I tug my school uniform skirt down, attempting to make it longer to level it on my knees.

"I really apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Celine," Professor Herbert nods in shyness.

"No worries. Thanks for the clarification though," I reply, returning the respectful gesture at him. My feet bring me to the outside of the room.

"Please take care of yourself," he whispers, closing the door gently.

As soon as he shuts it, I grab my phone from my backpack to call my best friend. This is kind of news that should not be missed by her. When I get it, I dial her number, and it quickly rings.

"Hey! How was it?" Brielle asks as soon as she answers the call.

I cover my mouth with my other hand. "Are you still there at the restroom?"

"Yes. I was waiting for you. Tell me everything!"

Once more, I glance at the faculty room. "Meet me there."

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THE FOLLOWING DAY...

JIM SALVADOR.

With my hands inside my pockets, I kick some pebbles out of my way as I saunter in the campus. Today seems fine, just like the usual. The weather feels a little hot. Everyone around me looks like they already want to go home as soon as they get inside the school premises. Well, I can't blame them since it's Friday.

At last, I reach the school building. I climb on the stairs and enter inside it. Before I get to my classroom, I have to pass in this long ass hallway. So, to entertain myself for a bit, I've decided to hum a bop song. While murmuring the lyrics, I catch a sight of a mob, crowding at the bulletin boards.

"That's f*****g disgusting," a girl exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief.

Another one crosses her arms. "I can't believe it! Really? In the office?!"

Yvonne joins in their conversation, snapping her slim fingers. "I knew it! She's a slut pretending to be a goody two-shoes."

"Damn. If I know that, I could ask her to bang me too," a guy says, already triggering me to punch his face.

What's happening? I ask myself. This must be serious.

Due to my growing curiosity, I dart towards them. "Excuse me please. I'll just look. Excuse me."

Using my arms, I set aside several bodies to make a path for myself. Some students express their annoyance, and some of them even gasp when they see me. I don't care. I want to know this new issue that's flaming within the campus.

As soon as I get on the front, my eyes widen. There are several pictures of my Statistics professor. Some of them looks like he's helping a female student to remove her own socks. There are also angles that appears like he's giving her a lip service. As my head shifts to glance at the other images, my mouth opens in shock.

The girl is Celine.

My stomach loads up twitchy sensations as I read the printed captions. Each computerized sentence is obviously cut by scissors and pasted hastily on the pin board. 

Mr. Cortez and Ms. Suarez Scandal.

The controversial lovers of Manila Science High School.

Misconduct of a professor and a student.

Check! Having s*x inside the office?!

Caught them red-handed!

Upon knowing it, my head lowers. Different whispers are exchanged behind me. Some of the students even laugh at my reaction. White knuckles from clenching my fists too hard, and gritted teeth from an effort to remain silent, my hunched form emits deep rage that is like acid—burning, slicing, potent.

"N-no...no, no!" A lady suddenly shouts behind the crowd. Immediately, my head turns around, and there I see the mob dividing into two and letting Celine pass in the middle. "This is certainly wrong! This isn't true!" She runs towards the bulletin board to remove the photos and papers.

"What the hell is this?!" Brielle yells, trailing her from behind.

"If you're just watching your best friend closely then this wouldn't happen," Yvonne remarks, raising the upper corner of her lips to form a smirk.

Brielle pushes her harshly. "Shut the f**k up! You're the slut here!"

Yvonne almost hits back, but the other students refrain her from moving. On the other hand, Brielle glares at each of them, then proceeds in helping her best friend to detach the malicious images and wordings.

"Oh, Mr. Cortez already got your dream girl, Jim. Tough luck," a familiar voice speaks, provoking each part of my body to destroy him. When I turn around, I witness Derek shrugging at me. He seems satisfied at pissing me off, and that's when I know that my fist speedily smashes his tanned fuckboy face.

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CELINE SUAREZ.

I can't take it anymore.

While my hands are doing their work in removing the photos from the bulletin board, tears stream down to my cheeks. This is ten times worse than feeling embarrassed. Tons of questions are spinning inside my brain. Never in my life have I thought that somebody will ruin my reputation in my own school just because of mistook angles of photos with my Statistics professor.

I just can't believe it.

Who would do this?! I ask myself, crying at the printed pictures. I tear them apart, one by one, and stomp on them with immeasurable anger within my feet.

As my tears continue to pour, I stop from moving. My head lowers down along with my falling shoulders. I couldn't look at anybody. My reputation is defiled. It's all gone. I have no face to show at my school. There is this massive shame that's enfolding my whole being. It is like a food masher, crushing me into pieces.

Unable to move due to my crumbling confidence, I look at Brielle who still continues to take off the photos. While watching her, I spot two people on the corner of my right eye.

There, I see an upset Yuri, holding a camera on his hands.

And a pale-looking Justin, staring at me with no expression on his face.