Date Started: November 20, 2014
Date Finished: November 21, 2014
Date Edited: November 23, 2014

The ring of the school bell was the only thing that woke up the creatures around me. The snoring of the creature they called Kyle came to an abrupt stop as the bell did its job.

Two hours of nonstop paper-throwing, gossiping, sleeping nonsense, all because Mrs. Lennie was off chaperoning the debate team at St. Mary’s. It was bliss, not having to learn anything. If we were lucky, the lousy debate team could win enough matches by default to make it to the next level, which meant three more days until we get to see Mrs. Lennie’s collection of hand-painted beadery again. Halleluiah!

I stood from my chair and walked out of the room, my ever-prominent scowl, present. The thing was a life-saver. Being average height meant being engulfed by the crowd of useless creatures. The scowl prevented that from happening. People stayed away from people who looked pissed, at Yangtze Prep.

No one dared to break that tradition, no one. I kept walking. No one stopped me. I went straight to my next class, ‘World History’ or as I like to call it, ‘The class that teaches you how the country rose and conquered the world under the false pretense of United Nations’ class.

It was a long walk.

People stayed away from me. The scowl still worked. People must think I’m legitly pissed. They have no idea. They would never guess that all I was thinking about was how nice Jamaican weed felt the last time I smoked some with Peter. Oh man, that was the shiz.

My thoughts kept me occupied during most of the walk, sort of blocking out the amount of white noise that people spat out of their mouths on the daily basis. The rest of my attention focused on navigating through the walking slabs of meet with their cloth containers on their backs containing brutally twice-murdered trees.

The clock ticked on and on as I kept walking. I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry. I quickened my pace.

I made it just in time. The teacher wasn’t there yet, thank gods.

A girl I frequently talked to in class saw me. She waved e over and as I was walking over to her, I noticed that everyone was being rowdy. So I asked why.

“What’s wrong with everyone?”

The girl, Carmina, laughed at me like I had made a funny joke. Did I accidentally blurt out that I had seen a pig consummate his love to a woman on tape just a few minutes ago? Was the guilt written on my face? Or was it the joke about ducks? I’m such an idiot.

“Didn’t you hear? Professor Culching bit the dust last night.”

Her words were carefree, like she genuinely didn’t give a single fuck. But then again, who else in this class would care about Culching? The old man was crabby and crappy as a teacher. It was just Peter and I who had liked his quiet ways and his old man jokes.

My skin got pale and my lips quivered. He had been my teacher since freshman year, who can ever replace him?

“Hey, you okay there, Paige?” Carmina asked me.

I snapped out of my state of shock and replied. “Y-yeah. It’s just so unexpected…”

I shook my head and then shrugged off the thought of Professor Culching in a coffin. I so don’t need that right now. I walked to my seat in silence. The image kept coming back. Ugh. Stop. Please.

School is an endless cycle of walking, listening and writing. Complete and absolute torture. We literally pay people to tell us what to do five days a week for ten months, every year.

Carmina soon joined me, leaving her post near the whiteboard.

“Hey, guess what!?” She whispered into my ear. Technically, it was supposed to be a shouted whisper since her spit joined the earwax in my ear canal, completely bypassing immigration. So rude!

I stared into her eyes, my lips bunched on one side of my face, my eyes showing as much disinterest as possible.

“What?” I inquired, my most annoyed tone working on overdrive to add effect.

“Remember the roll call they do every first day of school at the assembly?” I blinked, stared at her some more and then shrugged. How the hell was I supposed to remember something like that when I can think of more important stuff, like the newest Towering Freights song.

“There was one name that was called that nobody answered to, right?” I racked my brains. This, I remember. The name was saved into my memory bank because it sounded so… valiant.

“Patricke LaValiente?” Carmina nodded in confirmation. Her head looked like it was about to disconnect from her neck. “Turns out, the registry wasn’t screwed over. The guy’s a transfer from somewhere and was scheduled to appear later into the school year.”

My brows furrowed. That did this have to do with me? Like, really.

“Later, in the sentence, Paige, means today! I saw it on the bulletin in the faculty lounge earlier.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course. She got her information from that place.

Carmina had been ‘secretly’ hooking up with the seventh grade science teacher ever since she sprouted her bountiful valley of chest fat. It’s basically a given that she knows everything that’s up with the school because of the hook ups. Classic Carmina, ladies and gentlemen!

She continued with her monologue as I contemplated on whether or not she knew that I wore one of the shorts I ‘borrowed’ from her on a family outing that  led to the catastrophic discovery of cheese shorts.

“Anyway, he’s from another country, Paige! Isn’t it thrilling? A new mystery guy, here at Yangtze, who’s in our grade! Think of all the hook-up possibilities!” I had to laugh. I’m sorry. I couldn’t just not laugh.

“You said the same thing about Christian Hivaldona, nurse Tate Popperty, Enrique Gracias AND let’s not forget Coach Castellano-Pabriño, Carmina. Face it; you have an affinity for weird ass names. Honestly, Popperty wasn’t a great hook-up, neither was Enrique. “

Carmina crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out stubbornly. Real mature, Carmina.

“And from what I hear, his dad’s apparently a rich guy who owns a vineyard in that country. I honestly forgot what country he’s from but yeah, his dad owns a vineyard! Totally my kind of guy.”

I looked away from Carmina’s candy-induced blue tongue and moved my gaze towards the door. Hoping for a sign from some primordial god that said Carmina didn’t receive some form of STD from canoodling with Coach Castellano-Pabriño.

I didn’t know what kind of a sign a blond-haired, green-eyed, Adonis-worthy boy brought that related to Carmina’s sexual future but I did know that I was going to be proven wrong.

Unless this guy was a classmate that randomly underwent plastic surgery to get them ladies to the yard, I was pretty and sure that this was Patricke LaValiente.

I had no idea whether I wanted to rejoice his accursed beauty or to run out of the classroom and set the school on fire. But then again, I always want to set the school on fire. Every Wednesday, second period.

I looked at Carmina beside me but saw that she was busy texting someone. Probably Pabriño. Ew.

I conjured a smile and gave it to him. He nodded and his eyes lingered a bit longer than a greeting should have. No one else saw.

Everyone else was too busy to notice Adonis in their presence so I made a gesture for him to sit beside me.

To my right was the empty chair I offered and to my left was Carmina.

Well, what would have been Carmina. I vaguely saw the ends of her hair as she marched out of the classroom, probably on her way to the teachers’ lounge.

Patricke stole her chair and smiled at me graciously. “Thank you. I speak little English and was worried I would get confusion.” He started, acknowledging my friendliness.

I had to blush. Foreign boys are just so cute!

“Oh that’s nothing! My name is Paige Manfinshter. Don’t worry about introducing yourself, I know who you are.” The look of relief spread on his face. So cute!

I imagined how hard life must’ve been for him. Having to learn another language at seventeen must be really hard. Especially since he’s hot and vulnerable to the advances of types of girls he isn’t familiar with. It gives me an odd sense of protectiveness.

“CanIcallyouLee?Ifindyourlastnameveryintriguing.Itsoundsveryexoticandidon’tknowwhatcountryyou’refrom.Ibetit’safunandactiveplacetobeatconsideringyourmusles-“

He stopped me midsentence. “I’m sorry I did not understand a word you just said.”

I bowed my head.  I rambled away and confused the hot new transfer student. Oh god. I am ashamed of myself!

“I’m sorry.”

He patted me on the shoulder and one second I was guilty and then the next, my heart was ramming against my chest like a dad busting his daughter’s bedroom door down to see if she was doing something obscene.

His smile was so gah and oh god, so cute and just, god. I bet he got away with murder in his old country. I wouldn’t blame them for turning the other way, this guy is just gah. Plain and simple, so perfect. I swear.

“It’s okay, Paige.” He said, pronouncing my name as Pay-geeh. So cute!

For the rest of the period, we talked about his life -excuse me- I meant former life, in Italy, where he came from and he lived on a farm and helped his father around the farm and assisted his mother in picking vegetables on farm property and helping his younger sister chop vegetables from their farm and guiding his older sister with cooking inside their house on the farm with produce from that same farm.

It was apparently a farmy, farmy, farmy, barmy, life for Patricke.

I asked him why he was here and he told me bitterly that while he and his sisters were at school one day, his parents and their farm had burned down and then how his uncle, who lived here, took them in. It was a sad story. Poor Patricke.

Before we knew it, class had ended. I gave him directions to my locker and the promise of meeting him after class at my locker.

It then became time again to walk amongst the creatures; embracing the normalcy they had that I didn’t. Such a tiring life I live. Oh the despair!

It was lunch time, which meant lunch with Peter, and then Music class with Peter and then Math with Peter and then debate with Peter and then after that, Peter with Peter. Basically, I was going to have a Peterrific afternoon and then a little bit of Patricke time after that. Halleluiah!

I kept walking, ignoring mating calls that were sent back and forth, contests that praised male dominance, and what have you. But then, I saw a group of guys cheering on some girl named Ashley.

Teenage slabs of meat and their urge to get laid, am I right?

I walked passed them, giving a casual glance just to know what the hell was going on.

Wasn’t that Patricke?

I shook the idea from my mind and kept walking.

I met up with Peter at the bleachers. It seems as though he had brought a friend. Fuck. I wanted to talk to him about Patricke.

The guy was dark-skinned with the color of mocha cake. He was handsome. I’ll give Peter props for bringing a cute lunch date to the table, later. I ran over to them and said hi. I took out my lunch and the one I prepared for Peter since it was my turn to provide lunch this week.

A familiar tuft of blond hair passed us and Peter’s friend greeted him. “Hey Ashley!” Peter’s friend said, waving him over to us.

Patricke went over the moment he saw me. I swear. He DID! “Hi Paige,” he greeted, wrestling the friend to the ground. Two cute boys wrestling right in front of me? Bring on the popcorn and the betting stands!

Patricke’s eyes then focused on me after he decided he was done wrestling. Peter was in the background quietly grinning for some reason.

“I did not know you have already met my new friend from the period before ours!” He started, smiling again. Dude, does that ever get tiring? Maybe not. Hopefully not. I don’t think I can imagine him not smiling no matter what.

He put an arm around Mr. Mocha Cake and introduced him to me, “Paige, Patricke.”

Wait, what?

“Excuse me?” I half-yelled, half-whispered.

Blondie cocked his head to the side and spoke again. “This is my friend Patricke LaValiente.”

What the actual fuck.

--

Heyya! XD I know, this is a random story. Ahahahah.  Weird names, even weirder plot. One day, I was bored in class and I decided to write a story. I had no idea it would turn into this baby. Nope. No idea it would. Haha. I’m actually supposed to be typing out a report for my Filipino class but nah. I’m lazy. Not that 30% of my grade really matters. XD I’ll try scanning the original story and posting it on Tumblr so you guys can see how much the story developed.

Also, don’t forget to check out my primary story, “Chris Ramirez: Suddenly Mommy.”

Sometimes, I update. Hahah. #ChrisRamirez