Post by Jed Fernandez on Dec 1, 2008 22:17:45 GMT -5
POV: Vera
I vowed not to be late for class again. For the record, I’ve made that same vow for the thirteenth time, and it had never been done ever. Looks like I was born to break the rules.
Which reminds me, where were those pumps I was looking for?
I got lost in my shoe rack again and I couldn’t seem to find them. I swore they should be where I last placed them, but they were gone. Maybe someone moved them. Again. Ugh. When will people ever stop bothering with my already messed up things? It makes life harder for me, if only they would realize that. I must make that point very clear one day. Someday…or maybe not.
“Are you ever going to be finished?”
There goes my brother again--as irritating and irritated as always. Hey, it wasn’t my choice that I had to ride with him for school! As if I really liked that! And it wasn’t my fault that my pumps were missing, and that I have a record of being late! Ugh!
I ignored him and continued rummaging on the racks, which had swallowed my black pumps. Those should be locked up somewhere for easier access.
“Vera!”
“Okay, okay!” I shouted back. I have no choice now, so I snatched a pair of black shoes that would do for my outfit today, a pair that I hadn’t used for a while. Stupid brother! When is he going to leave me alone?!
Today I wore a black and white ensemble—my favorite discreet combination. Fun part with this was you could play it up with other accents. I don’t think I would ever get tired of this.
My brother, Duke, had already started up the engine before I came in, which probably added to his irritation. I had grown to believe that boys love their cars always ‘relaxed’, and waiting for me made it ‘strained’ as he had said. I mean, much as he knew me already, why can’t he just cut it out and wait for me to step in first! That was just very easy!
He threw me a loathing expression, which I returned glumly. ‘Good morning, sister!’ could have been nice as a greeting for a change.
“You are never going to ride with me again.” He told me through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
As if he’d really do that. He has no choice, anyway. He doesn’t like riding with me, and I didn’t like it either. But we were both stuck to the setup because of our parents. Stubborn as they were, they would never allow me to have my own car except when I bought it with my own money, which was not likely to happen. Ever. As for Duke, he would lose his car if he ever failed to tag me along for school.
So we had no say in this trap setup. So I wasn’t scared with what he said. Not like he hadn’t said that every morning. So that was how our mornings usually went.
I usually drop my bag on my locker, but since I was already super late this time, I didn’t have the chance to. I guess I’ll just drop it later before lunch. My brother had already disappeared into his classroom. Ha. Ha. Congratulations to be, he had already established a record of being late as well. But still not as late as me.
“How considerate of you to join us, Vera,” our teacher scolded as I crept on to my seat. ‘How considerate of you sir to draw everyone’s attention to me!’
Why were teachers like that? Why were they supposed to get away with all their comments and snide remarks? That’s the power of being a teacher. Thankfully, I had no intention of exercising that same power. But I still believe they’re being given privileges that were way too good for them.
I sulked in my chair, half listening to the instructor. I took my notebook out and began doodling on the pages, from time to time writing remarks about my teacher randomly. Mostly my notes were consisted of that—doodles and remarks.
When the page I was busy with was already crowded with stars, heads and comments, I turned to a fresh new leaf with nothing on it. Yet. It wouldn’t be long before the page was murdered.
Just after I’d turned the page, a lean arm outstretched in front of me. It was armed with a pen and scribbled neatly on the ruled page.
PLANS TODAY?
My seatmate, Rush, always asked. Not the same question every time, but something close to the previous. He just asked. Always. Anything. Anytime. Anywhere. Always. Always with the questions. I wrote down a string of remarks for the pronunciation of our teacher before I answered his question.
NONE SPECIAL. YET.
I reviewed my schedule mentally and came up with my ordinary routine. No special meeting, no special engagement.
EXPECTING SOMETHING?
‘Yes? That maybe you’d find it good to shut up?’ The interview began again. If it wasn’t for the fact that answering his questions made time move faster, I would have gladly told him to shove his questions up.
NONE, I THINK.
I was not sure of that. What would I be expecting anyway? Clearly. There was nothing to wait for. So there was really no point in his asking. He just liked to hover. He liked that, and did that without asking my permission. ‘Sure, I really don’t mind anyway!’ That’s the second third I didn’t have a say with.
“Should you be a little concerned about your grades?”
Great. Now that the class was over, the written interrogation came in verbal form. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I stared hard at him, devising a bad enough remark that would make him stay away. For good. While I stared into his green eyes, which registered only confusion, I wondered how my life would have been if he stopped bugging me. But, as bad as I wanted it, I couldn’t make my mind think that.
He snapped his fingers in front of me, which crumpled my thoughts. “What?”
“I said you should watch you grade,” he answered. I thought I heard hi sigh and say something under his breath.
“Why?”
He was the first to sit on the steps where my friends usually sat on. “Because,” he said, brushing the place beside him lightly with his hands, ”you’re not really that smart.”
I decided to sit a step lower than him. “And?” Come on! I knew I wasn’t really smart, so why did his words sound very, very rude? Or was it just me being overly sensitive? I permitted one of my eyebrows to shoot up when he looked at me. Now my blood was boiling, which I found weird.
This was what he always did when he felt guilty of doing—or saying—something. He looked down for about three seconds. One. Two. Three. Then, he sighed. Inhale. Exhale. And then those green eyes of his would lock up on the eyes of the ‘victim’. In this case, it was me.
He could be charming, come to think of if. Wait, no! He is smashing!
He looked steadily on me. “Vera…look, I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, okay? I’m just…concerned…about you. Your studies. I’m just concerned about your studies.”
Ha. Ha. He is so cute! I wanted to laugh because he looked hopeless. But then again, he was hopeless. That would be rude, right? I mean, laughing? What’s he more like, laughable or hopeless? I think it’s 50-50.
I vowed not to be late for class again. For the record, I’ve made that same vow for the thirteenth time, and it had never been done ever. Looks like I was born to break the rules.
Which reminds me, where were those pumps I was looking for?
I got lost in my shoe rack again and I couldn’t seem to find them. I swore they should be where I last placed them, but they were gone. Maybe someone moved them. Again. Ugh. When will people ever stop bothering with my already messed up things? It makes life harder for me, if only they would realize that. I must make that point very clear one day. Someday…or maybe not.
“Are you ever going to be finished?”
There goes my brother again--as irritating and irritated as always. Hey, it wasn’t my choice that I had to ride with him for school! As if I really liked that! And it wasn’t my fault that my pumps were missing, and that I have a record of being late! Ugh!
I ignored him and continued rummaging on the racks, which had swallowed my black pumps. Those should be locked up somewhere for easier access.
“Vera!”
“Okay, okay!” I shouted back. I have no choice now, so I snatched a pair of black shoes that would do for my outfit today, a pair that I hadn’t used for a while. Stupid brother! When is he going to leave me alone?!
Today I wore a black and white ensemble—my favorite discreet combination. Fun part with this was you could play it up with other accents. I don’t think I would ever get tired of this.
My brother, Duke, had already started up the engine before I came in, which probably added to his irritation. I had grown to believe that boys love their cars always ‘relaxed’, and waiting for me made it ‘strained’ as he had said. I mean, much as he knew me already, why can’t he just cut it out and wait for me to step in first! That was just very easy!
He threw me a loathing expression, which I returned glumly. ‘Good morning, sister!’ could have been nice as a greeting for a change.
“You are never going to ride with me again.” He told me through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
As if he’d really do that. He has no choice, anyway. He doesn’t like riding with me, and I didn’t like it either. But we were both stuck to the setup because of our parents. Stubborn as they were, they would never allow me to have my own car except when I bought it with my own money, which was not likely to happen. Ever. As for Duke, he would lose his car if he ever failed to tag me along for school.
So we had no say in this trap setup. So I wasn’t scared with what he said. Not like he hadn’t said that every morning. So that was how our mornings usually went.
I usually drop my bag on my locker, but since I was already super late this time, I didn’t have the chance to. I guess I’ll just drop it later before lunch. My brother had already disappeared into his classroom. Ha. Ha. Congratulations to be, he had already established a record of being late as well. But still not as late as me.
“How considerate of you to join us, Vera,” our teacher scolded as I crept on to my seat. ‘How considerate of you sir to draw everyone’s attention to me!’
Why were teachers like that? Why were they supposed to get away with all their comments and snide remarks? That’s the power of being a teacher. Thankfully, I had no intention of exercising that same power. But I still believe they’re being given privileges that were way too good for them.
I sulked in my chair, half listening to the instructor. I took my notebook out and began doodling on the pages, from time to time writing remarks about my teacher randomly. Mostly my notes were consisted of that—doodles and remarks.
When the page I was busy with was already crowded with stars, heads and comments, I turned to a fresh new leaf with nothing on it. Yet. It wouldn’t be long before the page was murdered.
Just after I’d turned the page, a lean arm outstretched in front of me. It was armed with a pen and scribbled neatly on the ruled page.
PLANS TODAY?
My seatmate, Rush, always asked. Not the same question every time, but something close to the previous. He just asked. Always. Anything. Anytime. Anywhere. Always. Always with the questions. I wrote down a string of remarks for the pronunciation of our teacher before I answered his question.
NONE SPECIAL. YET.
I reviewed my schedule mentally and came up with my ordinary routine. No special meeting, no special engagement.
EXPECTING SOMETHING?
‘Yes? That maybe you’d find it good to shut up?’ The interview began again. If it wasn’t for the fact that answering his questions made time move faster, I would have gladly told him to shove his questions up.
NONE, I THINK.
I was not sure of that. What would I be expecting anyway? Clearly. There was nothing to wait for. So there was really no point in his asking. He just liked to hover. He liked that, and did that without asking my permission. ‘Sure, I really don’t mind anyway!’ That’s the second third I didn’t have a say with.
“Should you be a little concerned about your grades?”
Great. Now that the class was over, the written interrogation came in verbal form. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I stared hard at him, devising a bad enough remark that would make him stay away. For good. While I stared into his green eyes, which registered only confusion, I wondered how my life would have been if he stopped bugging me. But, as bad as I wanted it, I couldn’t make my mind think that.
He snapped his fingers in front of me, which crumpled my thoughts. “What?”
“I said you should watch you grade,” he answered. I thought I heard hi sigh and say something under his breath.
“Why?”
He was the first to sit on the steps where my friends usually sat on. “Because,” he said, brushing the place beside him lightly with his hands, ”you’re not really that smart.”
I decided to sit a step lower than him. “And?” Come on! I knew I wasn’t really smart, so why did his words sound very, very rude? Or was it just me being overly sensitive? I permitted one of my eyebrows to shoot up when he looked at me. Now my blood was boiling, which I found weird.
This was what he always did when he felt guilty of doing—or saying—something. He looked down for about three seconds. One. Two. Three. Then, he sighed. Inhale. Exhale. And then those green eyes of his would lock up on the eyes of the ‘victim’. In this case, it was me.
He could be charming, come to think of if. Wait, no! He is smashing!
He looked steadily on me. “Vera…look, I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, okay? I’m just…concerned…about you. Your studies. I’m just concerned about your studies.”
Ha. Ha. He is so cute! I wanted to laugh because he looked hopeless. But then again, he was hopeless. That would be rude, right? I mean, laughing? What’s he more like, laughable or hopeless? I think it’s 50-50.