Blood Orange Day

The blaring sounds of “I’m not your Boyfriend, Baby” of 3OH!3 blared from my phone dock started to play and as usual, by the chorus, my eyes fluttered open and stared at the ceiling to gather my bearings while the song played, as was tradition.

Fifteen minutes after, I was dressed in what my old school would call distasteful. A red pleated skirt that ended an inch above my knees with matching mainstream gray knee-high socks, a too-white polo shirt with sleeves up until my wrists or as Peter would call it, the perfect way to hide evidences of cutting, a black and yellow-striped necktie that looks like it could be the next bumblebee sticking out of the ugly sweater vest that looked like a skinned mole and a maroon blazer that looked like it was made and preserved from ancient history.

Back in the Philippines, we had short-sleeved white polo shirts with a breast pocket on the right side with the school logo stitched to it with the shirt tucked under the long blue skirt that ended four inches below the knee with white ankle-length socks to compliment the year-round summer weather. The perks of living in a tropical country, I tell you. The nonperks, I must confess are having to witness people wearing skimpy outfits whenever the sun was out, which was basically every day. Especially the people who don’t exactly have the “body” to pull off the clothes. Yech.

Again my alarm blared, telling silly ‘ole me that I had ten minutes to get to the park where I was supposed to meet HIM. I don’t even know why I agreed to move in with my aunt. This is ridiculous. Why do I even bother sometimes? A tiny voice in my head is telling me I bother with it because f**k everything else that goes with common as f**k knowledge. I’m not over him yet.

A screech from downstairs rudely interrupts my soliloquy and I am reminded of my pre-arranged engagement before school, to which I grab my bag and race down the stairs for. The moment my foot touched the landing or rather landed on it, my aunt poked her head from the kitchen and asked if I wanted anything before I left, knowing that I needed about three minutes to get to the meeting place.

She shrugged and threw me my lunch money, making me love her even more. Her utter disregard for my health was probably a sign of bad guardianship but it was also a sign of trust. Just because as I was starting my elementary years, I never ate breakfast because I was always late for school and the habit stuck up until now, even though I am almost always, except when I over-estimate time, early.

Walking out the door, I felt the chill of the morning air and gods was it hellishly cold. Wait. That makes no sense. Hell is supposedly like a really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, hot place so why in hell should ‘hellishly cold’ make any se- oof.

I probably should pay more attention to my steps rather than sentences falling apart on themselves for being counterproductive. S**t. I broke Mrs. Gardenia’s garden gnome. Oh god. She is going to kill me.

I pick up the now broken supposedly guardian of the garden and protector of petunias and hurriedly and unceremoniously dump it into the trash bin. Hopefully the garbage trucks notice the gnome before Mrs. Gardenia.

With that out of the way, I check my phone and realize I only have four minutes to get to the park and start to run. Damn the fact that I’m going be all sweaty when I meet HIM. Wait. I don’t. Actually, I don’t have to meet him at precisely six. That’d be creepy. Using a leisurely pace would be acceptable. He is the guy in this. Having decided this, I slow down and take really dainty steps.

Everything was fine up until this rude-a*s biker yelled at me to get out of the way.  Well I’d never! Of course I did. If I died because I was trampled over by a bike I would never hear the end of it. Pretty sure I'd float up to heaven with bike tracks all over me. This was a sidewalk if I moved out of the way I’d be run over by a car, damnit. What's up with him? I guess he forgot to take his dino vitamins after breakfast. 

When I got to the park, the first thing I see is red. Every. Single. Person here was wearing red or something closely related to red. Like Blood Orange. Geez. When did everyone decide to color-coordinate their outfits? Hello? This isn't a Radio Rebel moment, people. This is real life. And in real life, all of you have just made my life a zillion times harder. To Tartarus' man area with you all! How the hell am I supposed to find HIM now? Gah.

I collapse on the nearest bench, letting my bag sit on my lap and tucking my head into it, not caring if it ruins the bangs I oh-so-carefully straightened to perfection and screamed. The bag better have muffled my scream or we'd have a problem, ladies and mentlegen.

After the third one, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "If you're here to mug me, you're not doing a good job, man." I say, raising my head to face the shoulder tapper, secretly wishing it was my Fairy godmother.

"Gabr- Chris!?" The voice replied. My eyes shot open and I looked at the speaker. Oh shiiiiit. I hastily took out my phone as the guy looked in shock. Yep, it's HIM alright. Cheeks that make you think of chipmunks, hair that looked too perfect and the school uniform. Did I mention that he looked hot in the uniform? No? Well he does. And boy is he smoking.

"Hey there Will! Old buddy of mine. How's it hanging?" I ask, hopefully pulling him back to earth. Hopefully.

"Y-you set me up! You and Gabrielle set me up! God. What is wrong with you?" Will countered, sounding pretty mad as he walked away.

Dear glaze nuts. Why is he mad? S**t.

I run after him when I realize I have no idea how to get to school.

As soon as about a meter near him, "I can hear you, Chris! Stop following me!" Will yelled, not bothering to face me.

I wince. I needed him. God. Suck up your gut, Chris. You need this guy. "I-I don't know how to get to school. I-I was ho-hoping you and I could walk together." I confessed, staring at the cobblestone path in embarrassment.

I didn't realize he stopped power walking until my head slammed into his hard chest. "What is that chest made of? Cement? I could've gotten a concussion, you know."

Nothing could have prepared me for his laughter. It's been years since I heard him talk and yet it seems like nothing has changed in his laughter. My cheeks blushed deeply. What was so funny that made him forget about being angry with me? Is a squirrel hitching a ride on my backpack? Please not this again.

When he recovered, his handsome smile disappeared and his scowl came back from vacation. "You haven't changed a bit, Chris."

I stared at him, pursing my lips which in turn made my cheeks puff up in an annoyed way. Like that one time when my former English Teacher and Extemporaneous speaking coach asked me how I could make a stand when I couldn't stand, taking a petty jab at my mere 49 inches of height.

"I'm sorry I got mad. I... got into a fight with one of my friends before coming here to meet with you or should I say Gabrielle. I thought I was coming here to meet my good friend and her present for me. Not my second grade sort-of girlfriend." He explained. Well, that made sense, I guess. But it's still unacceptable what he did.

"What about not accepting my facebook requests?" I pried, still trying to look annoyed and apparently failing.

"It was weird. The last time we talked it was about high school musical, Chris. It was in second grade. It would have felt weird if you were randomly part of my life again."

"I can live with that. Now about your present, well... It's in my bag but it kinda got messed up when I got here. I'll give it to you when we get to school." His agreeing nod made me think that we were friends again as we started to walk to school in silence.

Halfway there, Will stopped walking for some reason and started to look around for something. I wonder if he needs to piss. 

"S**t." He muttered under his breath as he retreated to a nearby tree. Curious and confused, I followed him. This better be good, Will. I am missing time to ask a certain Lurky why he kissed me on the cheek, yesterday.

Great. I reminded myself about it. Gatsby gods, why!?! Why in hell did he kiss me? 

Before the gods could answer, Will was pulling me behind the tree with him. 

"What's the big deal, man!?!" I asked, tearing my arm off him.

He buried his face into his right hand and took a deep breath. Is he having problems breathing? S**t. S**t. Is he going to faint? F**k. I forgot my kit at home. Oh my god. Will, don't faint. I can't carry you. "See that girl with the prada bag?" He said after about a minute of intense breathing exercise that was long enough to make me have a heart attack from panicking.

I peeked from the tree to see three girls in prada bags, two were wearing the school uniform and the other one was wearing a dress that was too short for church. "Which one? I see three fine a*s ladies and I have no idea which one you hooked up with." I joked.

"The one who's most likely to hook up with me, Chris." He deadpanned, returning to his former activity, breathing.

"Did you get her pregnant, Will? That's disgusting. Oh my god. I can't even look at you right now. Will, what the f**k?"

He looked at me with these really judging eyes and lightly slapped my cheek. The one not kissed by Lurky, by the way. "No Chris. I just hooked up with her and she... god. It'd just be so embarrassing if I walked to school with you, Chris. S**t travels fast and from the text I got, you seem to be the talk of the town with your," he hesitates, staring at me like he's afraid I'm going to kill him and puts his hands up to form quotation marks, "great a*s." He finishes. 

My pursed lips reformed to make another 'o' shape as I took in what was just spoken. No offense America, but why the hell are your teenagers talking about me and my butt?

Before I could even fathom what else Will was talking about with his sexy mouth, I hear a distinguishable shuffle of shoes and a drop of a familiar phone. 

"Chris? What are you doing making out with a Marvin?" Markus' voice asked, making me turn away from Will to stare right at the single cananga odorata he was holding in his right hand. 

I tilted my head at him, confused and then I realized that Will was pinning me to the tree and his face was inches away from mine.

Author's Note

Here. SEE THE SHIFT IN WRITING STYLE!?!

Reviews

[Lusus Naturae]

It is not something I would typically be interested in reading, as I go for gore, however it was not bad and the conversations, actions... All seem like actual conversations. I was going to say towards the beginning to add a conflict, but now I see the beginning of the conflict here. Well composed.