Chapter 7
1491 Words
Essel’s Pov
After a few volunteers finish reading sections of Romeo and Juliet, the class engages in a discussion about whether Juliet should have consented to marry Romeo. Unlike my usual participation, I remain silent at my desk, fixated on the whiteboard a few meters away, choosing not to join in the conversation.
Mr. Kafui, noticing my lack of engagement, directs a few questions toward me, but I respond as briefly as I can before retreating back into my silence. This isn't typical behavior for me; in fact, I rarely act this way. Yet, the events of the past day feel almost unreal. I’m still grappling with the fact that I don’t have a home to return to tonight.
As I fidget in my seat, I inadvertently knock my pen to the floor, where it lands with a soft 'ping.' A few classmates glance over, their expressions as if I’ve just caused a major incident.
Seriously, it’s just a pen! Why are you all looking at me like I’ve committed a crime? It’s not my fault I’m a bit clumsy.
Clumsy...
My mind drifts back to last night when Tristen playfully teased me about my unfortunate stumble in the Parkers' living room.
"Alright, class, it's time for homework!" Mr. Kafui claps his hands with enthusiasm, and I fight the urge to sigh as I grab my pen.
I really don't want to deal with homework right now. All I crave is some food and a bit of sleep. That's all I need.
I flip to the first page of my planner. Beneath the haphazard notes I've jotted down, I begrudgingly write 'Friday – English Homework' and wait for Mr. Kafui to elaborate.
"Since we're discussing romance, I want you to write a poem titled 'What Love Is.' It should consist of at least three stanzas and must be done independently. Make sure it fits within the romance genre." Well, obviously.
He pauses as the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. "You're all dismissed," he concludes.
I begin to gather my things, placing my stationery back into my pencil case and sliding Romeo and Juliet into the plastic sleeve in my folder. I stuff everything into a bag that Liz generously lent me, then push myself off the seat and step into the aisle between the desks, only to come to a sudden halt. Tristen's foot is brushing against mine, our arms are pressed closely together, and we're wedged between the desks on either side, leaving me hesitant to move.
***
Tristen
As I engage in a lively conversation with Ky behind me, I notice someone unusually close to my left. Turning my head, I spot Essel next to me; I had a feeling I would run into her at school eventually. I can feel my leg touching hers, my fingers just a few inches away from hers, and our arms are tightly squeezed together as we find ourselves stuck in the aisle. I take a step back to give her room to move further down the aisle, and she quickly apologizes before exiting the room.
"What was that all about, mate?" I glance over at Ky, who is standing next to me.
"Oh, it's nothing really. Just a kid who helped me at the library," I respond casually.
"Wait, you actually go to the library?" Jake exclaims from behind me, clearly surprised that I would engage in such an activity.
Jake and Ky seem indifferent about their education or the grades they receive in their final exams. It's a bit disheartening, especially since they are quite intelligent. Their wealthy families have made them feel secure enough not to worry about working hard for their future. In contrast, I take pride in my studies and strive for good grades. Deep down, I embrace my inner nerd.
I suppose that's a trait Essel and I share. At least, I assume she’s a nerd too.
"Yeah, I needed to pick up a new book," I say, waving my copy of Romeo and Juliet in front of them.
I'm being truthful. I did visit the library yesterday after school to replace the copy I lost. Of course, I didn’t run into Essel there; I simply searched for the book, checked it out, and headed home.
"Whatever, man. Are you heading to the party tonight?" Jake inquires.
Instead of focusing on me, his gaze is glued to Rachel as she walks out of the classroom. I have to snap my fingers three times to pull him back to the present. Meet Jake, the notorious player who has probably been with more girls than the number of friends I have on f*******:, and that's saying something.
Then there's Ky, the quiet and innocent one, who is the complete antithesis of Jake. He has only loved one person in his life, and I doubt he has moved on from that.
"Whose party is it?" I ask.
Just as Jake is about to respond, his mouth suddenly closes. I narrow my eyes at him in curiosity before shifting my gaze to Ky.
"Whose party is it?" I repeat, this time hoping Ky will provide an answer.
"Pascal's," he replies, his tone carrying a chill.
The mere mention of his name makes my fists tighten.
"No, I'm not going," I say through clenched teeth. "And why on earth are you going?" I direct the question at Jake, immediately regretting it. My issues shouldn't burden him; he can choose to go wherever he pleases.
"To score some free drinks and mess up his place," Jake answers.
His response relaxes my fists. I realize I shouldn't be upset with him; he doesn't experience this the same way I do. He doesn't harbor the same hatred for Pascal that I do.
As we exit the classroom, Georgia bounces over to us, weaving through the throngs of students in the hallway. She wraps her arm around mine and, standing on her tiptoes, pulls me down to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. Fantastic, now I have strawberry-scented lip gloss smeared on my face.
"How was English, babe?" she asks as we pick up our pace through the corridor, with a few students stepping aside to let us through.
Alright, I reply with a yawn.
It takes a special kind of energy to keep pace with Georgia, and at the moment, I just don’t have it. Lately, I find myself preferring solitude, only wanting to be around Jake and Ky.
"Did you hear the latest?" she launches into her usual gossip, something the boys and I have come to expect. Sometimes it’s entertaining to catch up on school happenings, but today isn’t one of those days. "Pascal has invited some girl to his party; I think he’s into her."
Just hearing his name brings my spirits down even further.
"Who is she?" Jake inquires.
"I can’t remember her name," Georgia replies, shaking her head and shrugging.
I can only hope this girl is wise enough to steer clear of him.
I carefully store my books in my locker, leaving only my planner in my school bag before gently closing the door. A wave of curiosity washes over me as I wonder about the identity of Pascal's 'girl' and if all this chatter is truly deserving of the attention it’s receiving, particularly from an inquisitive Georgia.
"Why are you so interested? Afraid she might steal your thunder?" I tease her playfully.
"I don't care. I just..." Her words trail off, and I can see her attention shift to something happening in the corridor. I follow her gaze, but I can't quite grasp what has captured her focus. "There she is," she says, her eyes locked onto someone.
Perhaps it's not just curiosity driving Georgia, but a hint of jealousy as well.
"Where?" I inquire.
"There," she discreetly gestures to the far side of the corridor, where a girl is busy searching through her locker. It's Essel! She's the one Georgia is pointing at! Oblivious to our conversation, Essel stands at her locker, carefully organizing her books and closing the door with minimal noise.
"Are you talking about Essel?" I ask, surprised, glancing at Georgia to confirm she’s indicating the right person.
"Yeah, do you know her?" Georgia replies with a nod.
"She assisted him at the library," Jake interjects before I can say anything.
Essel then turns away from her locker and begins to walk down the hallway, skillfully maneuvering around others in her path. I watch her intently until she finally vanishes from sight. A part of me wants to warn her against attending the party; Pascal's motives are never pure.
He’s only going to take advantage of her, as he always does. He exploits people and never owns up to his behavior.
I really think you should advise her not to go.
"I have to go, see you later," I shout to the boys and Georgia before hurrying after Essel.
- Writer
