Chapter 6: Hers

Knock knock...

"Enter."

I looked up and saw Mr Robert coming in. God, I hated him. He would always spend each day thinking of different ways to insult me during our Science lessons. He would comment about how if they fed me another piece of chocolate, the Earth would get stuck and stop spinning or how I could be used to block the sun and stop global warming.

Yeah, I detested him.

"Mrs Bullock, I'd like to call Ms Fuhrer?" his eyes darted to mine. I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Whatever for, Mr Robert?" Mrs Bullock bent her head a little to peer over her spectacles to see him. Mrs Bullock didn't like to be interrupted, so naturally, she'd demand a good and valid explanation.

Mr Robert, however, just shrugged and said, "Ms Lamburgh told me to ask her to go to her room and see her."

Mrs Bullock thought for a while before saying, "Fine, Dawn, you may go, but come back immediately after."

I nodded and went to the third floor, where Ms Lamburgh's office was. It was a tough climb up the stairs, but I managed to do it. However, I could feel my sweat evaporating to steam due to anger when I realized the room was empty. Was this Mr Robert's idea of a joke?

I found a piece of paper on Ms Lamburgh's table and read it: Oh dear, how clumsy of me. My sincerest apologies, but Ms Lamburgh is having a lesson now with class 3-B. At least now you've burnt a little of your excess baggage. You should thank me. Mr Robert.

The bastard should rot in hell.

I noticed just then he added a postscript.

P/S: Dispose of this after you read it, will you?

My clockworks began to turn. I took the piece of paper and left it on Mr Clifford's table. Now what would a 6-foot-8 bodybuilder and Head of PE department say when he reads about someone calling his muscles "excess baggage"?

I felt smug after leaving the office. I went all the way down to the ground floor and searched for 3-B. It was the last one down the hall. I knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Yup, that was Ms Lamburgh.

Walking in, I immediately heard the students whispering to each other. Probably about how large I looked. Truthfully, I wasn't really enormous. It's just that compared to them, I was huge and unbelievably unhealthy. I've often heard my relatives say, "You know, Dawn, dear, you'd look so beautiful if you lose weight. You have very unique features."

Tch, right.

Speaking of health, I was scheduled for a check up today.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes. Please determine which course you will be taking next year, will you? Everyone else has already submitted their forms to me," said Ms Lamburgh. "Have you talked to your parents, like I told you to?"

I didn't answer. The form I received required both my parents' signatures. As long as my dad kept distancing himself from us, I couldn't send my form in. I sometimes wondered if I could just say my dad died, but my mom still has a certain amount of affections for him. She'd probably kill me - or send me to my room - if I did that.

"My dad's been busy these past few days so he hasn't been around to discuss with my mom and I," I said.

Ms Lamburgh sighed. "Well, this concerns your future, so I hope your father will realize that it has its importance as whatever it is he's doing."

You have no idea.

Nodding, I excused myself and walked out. Right, I'd bet a hundred dollars my dad doesn't even know I exist. He'd been indulging in tomfoolery since he'd been married, so it's highly doubtful he knew I was born.

In case you're wondering how the hell how I came about, it was the simple fact that my dad had downed three bottles of booze, gone tipsy and then jumped to sex at home.

Similarly, in my brother's case as well.

Actually, I was planning on forgery, but -

"Wait!"

My heart skipped a beat. Why did I recognize that voice? I turned around and there was Ansel, running in my direction.

Whoa. My direction? Something was wrong with the picture. Why would the cutest boy on campus - according to my school mates - be running in my direction?

I checked my surroundings to see if he could have meant another person to wait but the hall was pretty much deserted apart from me standing right smack in the middle.

Taking my chances, I asked, "You talking to me?"

He eventually caught up, panting and gasping for air. Tch, what a wuss. I went up 3 flights of stairs and down again, only sweating and here, he looked as if he were a fish out of water.

After catching his breath, he said, "Who else could I be talking to?"

"Okay, so what the hell do you want?" I folded my arms. "I have to get back to class. Mrs Bullock's expecting me."

"What are you doing here?"

I raised my eyebrow. "What do you mean? I told you, I'm going back to class."

"No, I mean in this school!"

"I study here," I frowned. "Where are you going with this?"

"I didn't know you schooled here."

"Why would you need to know?" I asked, getting more and more irritated with him. "You've got to stop bothering me, Ansel."

"You knew I was schooling here?" he sounded surprised.

"Who doesn't? The girls in my class have pictures of you everywhere," I said, "Now, if you're done with the questions, I'm going to go now before I get screwed by Mrs Bullock."

I turned to leave, but he stopped me again, pulling my hand. I got goosebumps and snarled, "Let go of me."

"Why didn't you call?"

Oh God, someone kill him.

"Why-would-I-call-you?!"

"You seriously mean you're not going to fully abuse the fact you have my number?"

I heaved a big sigh, calming myself before I went mad. "I already told you, I don't like you. I'm not one of those fans of yours, get it?"

"Why?"

I blinked, confused. "What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why don't you like me? No girl could resist me," said Ansel, frowning. "Unless... you have a boyfriend."

Narrowing my eyes, I was trying to find why he sounded suspicious.

"What are you talking about?"

"Who's 'For'?"

I raised my eyebrow again. That's when I remembered yesterday when Forte received a phone call from someone who didn't answer.

"It was you who called?"

"Answer my question!"

I was a little scared with the tone of his voice because he actually sounded angry. It was like he was trying to prove something to himself.

"Why in the world are you being so angry? For's just my b-' I stopped. Hold on. Angry? He thinks I have a boyfriend? Didn't that sound like he was... jealous? "Would that be so hard to believe?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"You're not even going to think about breaking up with him for me?"

"How many God forsaken times do I have to tell you that I-don't-even-like-you?!"

Suddenly, I felt a sharp jab in my chest. Automatically, my right hand flew to my chest to try and subdue the pain. Why the hell was that happening?

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me. Just get lost. I've got better things to do than to continue this idle talk," I said, wincing at the pain. "I need to go. Bye."

I turned from him and walked off, still grabbing my chest. The pain wasn't easing, even after trying to calm myself down. I could feel my heart rate not decreasing and it was getting harder to breathe. My mouth was getting dehydrated as well, since I had not drunken any water after the run.

My eyes widened at that. That was what happened before I passed out some time ago. I panicked for a while then remembered that would worsen the situation. I needed help.

Forte.

At that moment, I knew I had to get to him before I fainted. My legs were gradually getting numb; another sign I was about to drop unconscious any minute soon.

Desperately, I tried to recall which class Forte was in. Shit, he could be anywhere.

I lost my legs then and fell to the ground. "Ouch!" I yelled, grabbing my legs. The pain in my chest continued and I had a throbbing headache as well.

I felt water droplets on my hand next and became aware I was crying. That was the first time I hoped someone would come by and find me.

"H-Help!" I sobbed, voice cracking from the discomfort and lack of water. I had both my palms pressing against each side of my head, trying to soothe the pain, but it didn't work. Seeing I was at my limit already, I gathered whatever strength left in me and yelled, "HELP!"

After that, everything was pitch black. Whether someone found me or not, I didn't know.

"Hey-"

Chapter 5: His

"Well, you're looking extremely happy today," Isriel commented, looking at me through the rear view mirror of the car.

It was true I was extremely happy. I could almost see that girl's face glowing with absolute joy I had left my phone number. She was probably dancing around her room with her phone in her hands, wondering what she should type in her message. "I bet I'd get a text from her soon," I sniggered.

"Pretty bold move, Ans, giving someone your number, And a girl too," said Iriel, turning into a lane. "Are you, by any chance, giving the girls an opportunity to capture your heart?"

"Unlikely, Isriel, very unlikely. For a girl to capture my heart, she must first capture my eye."

I heard my sister sigh. "Ans, dear, you probably don't see eye to eye with me on this, but when you meet the person you want to spend your whole life with, even if the person's not the prettiest, you'll think she is."

"How can I say she's the prettiest if she's not?" I raised an eyebrow. "You confuse me, Isriel, you honestly do. You're always so wrapped up in making me change my mind. Just you wait, that girl will call me in a while."

Saw Isriel shaking her head and muttering, "You'll understand some time soon, Ansel, you will."

I ignored her and continued clutching my phone. What the hell was taking her so long anyway? Oh, perhaps she didn't have enough money in her phone to call.

"Well, then, I'll just call her."

Dialled her house and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello, Zurier residence," a guy's voice answered.

The grip on my phone tightened. No way... There wasn't anyone in the house when I was there. I doubted her father would sound this young, and she never mentioned a brother either.

Could that be her boy-?

Nahh, that couldn't be it. She couldn't have a boyfriend. She doesn't look like she could attract anyone, not even a fly. That was definitely not her boyfriend.

"Hello? Is this a prank call?" he asked again.

Should I answer?

"For? Who's on the phone?" I heard her voice. 'For'? A preposition? What the hell did that stand for? Even if it was a name, it would sound weird, wouldn't it?

Heard the guy answer again, "No friggin' idea. The bastard's not answerin-"

He hung up. Inside, I was boiling. How dare he call me a bastard? Did he even know me? I've never known to hate someone even before I knew his name. His full name. I looked at the phone and felt something weird inside prodding me. Like it was telling me to redial.

What if that guy picked up again? That couldn't really be her boyfriend, right?

"No way, not in a million years would she get a boyfriend, unless he looks like her. Otherwise, I won't believe it," the little voice in my head rang in my mind.

"Who were you on the phone with?" Isriel asked, looking at me, "And why did you hang up?"

I wasn't about to let her know I tried to call a girl and did not succeed, so I answered, "I wasn't calling anyone. I just wanted to test the speakers of the phone. I think it's getting faulty. I haven't changed my phone for half a year."

Spotted my sister rolling her eyes the way our family always did perfectly.

All the same, I wasn't satisfied at all with the lack of attention. She was obviously staring at me. Wasn't she interesting in me? The idea of her having a boyfriend - although doubtful - was also considered. Even with a lover, she'd still fall for me. She'd at least try to flirt before I let her drown in guilt.

"Like the other taken girls who fell for me," the right side of my mouth went up.

Back at home, I barricaded myself in my room and continued looking at my phone. "Maybe she misplaced the piece of paper," I thought for an excuse again. "I guess I can give her another call, just in case."

My thumb was already on the 'call' button but for some reason, I just stopped. Looking at the full-body mirror in my room, I saw myself on the bed, legs waving about and a phone in my hand.

That's when I realized, I looked like a desperate love sick puppy waiting to be pampered by a stranger.

"Stop it, Ansel Saint James. You're a man of class, style and grace. Do not let yourself be dragged around like an unwanted dish rag!" I scolded myself.

This time, with a look of utter repulse - of my ghastly actions prior to my realization - I kept my phone in my room and stormed downstairs to the hall. Moments later, Lucas came over and checked over my Latin homework for both Ms Emily and our school teacher, Mrs Beatrice, which became a common practice since we found about my weakness in Latin.

To be truthful, the only reason I could speak relatively fluently during the 2-hour recording was because we practically had a Latin dialogue written for us. Well, she wrote the phrases, I just tried to make it sound as Latin as possible.

"So how was your first session with the girl?" Lucas asked, looking through my books and various exercises.

"It was alright. She had her eyes stuck on me, obviously, but we managed to keep it going," I said.

"Modest, as always," Lucas smirked. "How is she? Good looking?"

I nearly choked on air. There was no way she was good looking. "I can name a few hundred people right now who're better looking than her, Luke. Can you believe it? I heard from someone in class that she skipped one hundred and two Latin lessons last year. It's like she's sick all the time!"

"You might never know, Ans. She could have a legitimate reason for skipping lessons."

"Not as excessively as that, Luke."

Lucas didn't reply, so we remained silent for the short period of time. He joined us for dinner that evening and then returned home when 10 o'clock came.

The next morning, Lucas came over in the morning and we left to school together in my father's car.

"How was your Latin session yesterday, Ansel? I heard from Isriel that you actually passed your number to someone other than Luke and your close relatives."

"It was a treat from me, Father. She was quite glad to receive it, too. The look on her face was certainly priceless," I said. "At least, I'm sure that's what it must've looked like."

"Are you sure she won't give it to other people? In that case, you'd be quite a prize."

I thought about it for a moment then shook my head saying, "With all due respect, she doesn't really have anyone whom she can give it to. She's quite the anti-social character."

My father gave a dissatisfied noise then said, "Do not judge a book by its cover, Ansel. She might seem anti-social but she also might be fun to hang around once you get to know her."

"What's the point of telling him that, Mr SJ? Given his current attitude, it's highly doubtful he'd even try to get to know her," said Lucas, with good humour. "They are, after all, only seeing each other because of Latin lessons."

I nodded in agreement. I'd only have to stand seeing her for one week before we have nothing to do with each other again.

After I got down the car, I said goodbye to my father and then proceeded to the assembly hall. The headmistress gave a short speech and then dismissed us with a curt "Thank you."

However, something stopped me dead in my tracks. As I followed my class to homeroom, I thought I saw her.

"Couldn't be, right? Aren't we from different schools?" I thought, straining to see if it was really her. No doubt about it, she didn't have any friends, she had a glum look on her face and most importantly, nobody else I knew was that big in size.

But why was she here? And why haven't I seen her before if she schooled in Mort HIGH? Behind me, I nudged Lucas and said, "That girl's from my Latin class at Nurturing Minds!"

"Which one?"

"That one!"

"Ans, there are a lot of 'ones' here. Can you be a little more specific?" Lucas asked, giving me a certain look. "What's her name? You do know her name, right?"

"Of course I do!" I said, scowling. Honestly, I was trying to remember her name. Why couldn't I remember? Was it Danielle? Dolly? Dominique? "Oh never mind. Can't you see her?"

Lucas said, "Too late. We've reached homeroom. You can show me during recess."

I had to settle for that. However, when recess came, she was nowhere to be seen. I searched high and low for her - without making it obvious I was - but had no luck.

"She can't have just disappeared, Ans," Lucas said, after he told me to stop searching. "You've already searched the entire school. You probably thought you saw her, but saw someone else instead."

My voice told him I was just a little insulted, "I don't hallucinate, if that's what you're implying. I saw who I saw, and I won't let it go till I prove it to you."

Lucas sighed, shook his head and continued to follow me as I scoured the area. "Come on, Ansel! Find her! How hard can it be? She's so big!" I yelled in my head.

Unfortunately, recess wasn't forever, so I had to give up in the end. "You can find her after school or something," Lucas said, trying in vain to cheer me up.

"If it weren't for those annoying girls trying to flirt with me, I would have found her," I snarled, referring to three girls who were hanging about wherever I went, using the lamest pick up lines ever.

Reluctantly, I went back to class with Lucas. It was English, and Ms Lamburgh was in a pleasant mood. She gave us some homework to do whilst she busied herself with some other stuff.

Knock knock...

"Come in," Ms Lamburgh said, her voice singing with her usual happy tone.

The door opened, but I didn't bother to see who had come in. That is, until I heard my classmates starting to whisper and laugh under their voices. Tried to ignore them and continue my work, but then I heard a hoarse, but much too familiar, voice.

"You wanted to see me?"

My head shot up and there she was, standing by Ms Lamburgh's table. The whispering and backbiting continued, much to my annoyance. I looked around to tell Lucas, but he had left earlier to the washroom. Turning back to the girl, I noticed she was already out of the room.

At once, I jumped off my seat and flew to Ms Lamburgh's table. "Washroom, please?"

"S-S-Sure," her voice stumbled, as usual, but I was too disturbed to care. Once I saw her outside, about to disappear around the corner, I yelled, "Wait!"

Chapter 4: Her

"You're having a friend over?" Forte asked, when he saw I was unfolding the study table in the living room.

"Yeah, for my Latin sessions."

"Oh, so your numbers are even again?" he asked once more. "One of your friends quit, right? What was his name? Jason? Jeremy?"

"It was Nick, For, Nick Thomas," I said, getting my stationary out and the video recorder. "Some dude enrolled last week when I was absent and in the hospital. I saw him on Sunday and Janet told me he was replacing Nick."

"Well, how is he?"

"He's... handsome, I guess."

At that, Forte ran over to me and took my temperature. I annoyed, whacked his hand away. "I'm not ill."

"You've never had a crush on anyone before."

"Who said I had a crush on him? I said he was handsome. Liking him is a whole different thing altogether. He's probably one of those obnoxious people with a huge ass ego."

"True, most good-looking people have those characteristics," said Forte. "Except me," he added with a grin.

"Of course," I smirked.

I checked my video recorder to make sure it could hold for two hours. Why? Well, our assignment this week was to speak Latin for a whole two hours and videotape it as proof.

"Do it everyday starting tomorrow until Saturday, which makes 5 days of Latin-only sessions. Then on Sunday, you will present it to me," said Emily. "May I remind you, this has to be videotaped because the date and time will be displayed. That way, I will know if you're cheating by postponing your sessions. For those who do not have video cameras, do not worry because the centre will rent them to you for a 5-dollar rental fee. If damaged in anyway, you have to give us a 100-dollar compensation fee."

She even gave us topics for us sessions. We could talk about our school, our parents or even our pets, long as it's for 2 hours and we videotape it.

"So, who's your partner?"

Before I could answer, however, the telephone rang and I had to pick it up.

"Hello?" I asked.

"I can't find your house."

"Where are you?"

"La Grange Park."

"Find Newberry Ave."

"Found it already."

"Then find the number 827."

"I'm standing in front of it."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?!"

"The name plate says 'Zurier'. Your surname is 'Fuhrer'."

"Unless you get a reward for unravelling that mystery, you don't need to know. Now come in before I hang up."

I hung up and went to the door. After opening it, I said, "Get ready in the room there," I pointed for him to see. "I'll join you soon enough."

When I turned to leave, he asked, "That's it?"

I raised my eyebrow. "What else do you want?"

"No 'make yourself at home'?"

"No. Now go."

Watching him go, I shook my head. Honestly, whose house was this? Besides, we were only doing work. He didn't need to feel at home to do that. I prepared two glasses of tea then proceeded to the room. Once I got inside the room, however, I saw he was standing up and looking around the room.

Setting the tea tray down onto the table, I asked, "Is there anything wrong with the room we're in?"

"If there was, would you go your way to switch rooms to satisfy my desires?" he asked, in a tone that told me he already knew the answer.

"No, I wouldn't."

"What a shock," he feigned surprise. Then, rolling his eyes, he took the seat facing me, reached into his bag and brought out a fancy Sony video camera, placing it onto the table. "We'll use my video camera, it's got better quality than whatever you would have."

My heart felt as if an arrow - if not a knife - stabbed it and twisted itself deeper into me. The camera I was holding behind my back was two generations its senior, but at least it was something.

This was why jerks like him would never last more than two months with a single girl.

"Well, fine then," I glared at him, laying aside my camera and, lying through my teeth, added, "I don't have one anyway."

"Guessed as much."

Another arrow. Seriously, how much more of a bastard could he get? My fists were balled up, but I managed to calm down and not injure him. Instead, I said, "Then let's start. Don't forget we have to translate our sentences."

He set up his video camera by the table side and then looked at me. I nodded I was ready and he started filming.

"Heus," he said, "Quid agis?"

"Hi," I translated. "How are you?" After taking a deep breath, I answered, "Valeo. Et tu?"

"Fine, thanks. And you?" he then replied, "Bene. Quid est teum nomen?"

"Good. What is your name? Meum nomen Dawn est. Tu?"

He thought for a while then said, "My name is Dawn. You? Meum nomen Ansel est."

Yes, I ended up being paired up with the new student. Trust me, it wasn't pleasant having all the girls peering at you through hateful eyes. It was thanks to Janet that they stopped. She said, "It's not her fault she was chosen. If you want to blame anyone, blame Ansel, since it was him who picked her."

I was always thankful to Janet. She knew I was uncomfortable having everyone staring at me just because Mr Handsome Saint James became my partner that week. Actually, I tried to change my partner with someone else, but Emily said that would make things worse.

Although it insulted me indirectly, I knew what she meant and agreed. The girls would gladly offer their partners and the guys would protest vehemently because they don't like me.

I was, after all, the problematic child.

Nobody would understand what I was going through though, because they had such perfect slim bodies to opt and attitudes that matched third-rate sluts. Yet, they complain about how they were getting fatter and developing spare tyres. It made them sound so stupid because they weren't even half my size.

Me, on the other hand, besides being abnormally tall at 170 centimetres at 15 years, I was constantly wavering between 75 to 80 kilos and I always wore black because it concealed the fact I was overweight.

My arms were twice a normal girls' and my thighs were twice my arms. People could barely see my neck and to top it all off, I had problems that wound me up in hospitals most of the time. When that happened, it was not my friends who would take notes on my homework for me but my brother, Forte, who would have to go all the way to school to get my books and such.

Of course I tried dieting, but in school, who could stop me from eating junk food? Nobody cared for my health and Forte would very rarely find me chowing on a double-cheese burger with extra mayonnaise because most of the time, I wouldn't have a seat during recess so I had to make do with the girls' restroom.

Gave up losing weight eons ago. If there was no one who would accept me the way I was - whatever I was - then I'd rather have no one. It's been like that all along anyway.

"Dawn?"

I snapped out of my reverie and answered hurriedly.

"Me miseret. Iterum dicere potes?"

"Sorry and can you say that again? Ita. Quotos annos habes?"

"Yes. How old are you?" I translated. Crap, what was 15 in Latin again? "Err... Me miseret, mea lingua latina est mala. Ignoro quomodo Latine hoc dicitur."

"Sorry, my Latin is bad. I don't know what that's called in Latin. Quaesitionem nullam."

That was pretty much the gist of our session that Tuesday evening. I managed to stay focused more or less after that and before I knew it, our 2 hours were up.

"Same time tomorrow," Ansel said, packing his books and his video camera.

"You don't need to remind me," I snapped, irritated with the tone of his voice.

"You can't blame me, can you? You spaced out during the 2-hour-filming. I know you're mesmerized by my looks, but-"

That caught me off guard. I stopped him with a wave and asked, "What did you say?"

"You heard me loud and clear."

"Who the hell's mesmerized by your looks?" I ignored his statement.

Ansel gave me a look that screamed, "You, duh." He then said, "I know you were probably thinking about me the whole time. You were finding it hard to concentrate, so that's proof."

"Proof of what?!" I yelled, annoyed. "You might be better-looking than some guys, but that's not going to hypnotize me. You have the girls in Latin class going gaga over you, but I'm not one of them. Cause unlike them, I've got better things to worry about than finding a way to twist you around my finger," I took a deep breath then continued, "If you're done with your stuff, you know the way out of my house."

That said, I turned on my heel and walked away from him and towards the kitchen. I opened the door of my secret cabinet and took a packet of marshmallows. I went out again to my bedroom to eat them but stopped when I saw Ansel was still in the room.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" I asked.

"I was going to give you something as an apology for assuming," said Ansel, leaving a piece of paper on the table. "I'll be off, then."

I grew slightly red at the fact that he would try and rectify his wrongs, but I pretended not to care. "Go, then," I said, letting him leave. After the door closed and he had started walking to the road, I went to the table and took the piece of paper on the table.

What was written was, "999-245-657. You know you're happy to receive this."

I grew redder still, with hatred. "This was an apology?!" I thought, unaware than I had started ripping the piece of paper into about a hundred pieces. "The bastard's so full of himself that he thinks he can atone for his mistakes by giving me his bloody phone number?!"

Just then, Forte came in and asked, "Your friend's gone already? Damn, I couldn't see him."

"He could never be my friend."

Forte paused for a moment then continued, "Well, then, makes no difference if I do this," he said, reaching for the bag of marshmallows. "No snacking."

Shit.