“Ma'am?”
The old teacher continues to write significant dates against the blackboard. Her every move is followed by the scratching noise of the chalk.
“Ma'am?” I call her for the second time. Never did she halt and look at me.
I yawn loudly. My eyes squint at what she's writing. Ah, boring and repetitive series of events from I don't know which history of.
“Excuse me, Ma'am. May I go out?” I ask, raising my hand as if she can see from behind.
She faces the class in a slow, tensed manner and searches for me. Her strict eyes behind the spectacles meet mine. I lower my hand and smile awkwardly.
“Fine, Miss Mandeville. Just make sure you go back to the class after five minutes,” she responds. A triumph smirk escapes my lips. Finally!
Banging my head to the beat escaping through my earphones, I walk under the humid rays of the sun.
The song is currently rocking my mind endlessly, its harsh and aggressive tune lifts my mood up. It suddenly makes me want to have a late night drive down the street recklessly, with a rock song coming through the stereo, and a violent whisper of the air that'd make my hair be blown wherever my strands could reach. Checking my phone, the title pops on the screen --- Crooked by G-Dragon. Yeah, we're all fucked up!
It is currently nine in the morning and the atmosphere just feels so sleepy, more so, hearing the lectures about history and laws. I have a weak political view in life so the discussion just doesn't catch my interest.
Repetitive. My brain is the weakest when it comes to memorization and I don't have enough time for historical names and dates of events scattered along the discussion. Perhaps, I could just hit a crampled paper against Owen's head to give a signal whenever I need answers during quizzes?
See? Why do I need to exert effort in understanding stuff I will eventually forget? Though, I excel when it comes to essays for it is an explanation and application of the things I learn, not those I am forced to memorize...just to achieve good grades.
I can now see the sign going to the comfort room for ladies when I turn into the opposite way. Alibi. I don't even feel like peeing. I just said that to escape from the boring discussion.
I clicked my tongue, but not in annoyance. I sure am as hell that a triumphant grin escapes my lips. I'm a little spoony sometimes and it's nothing to be proud of, just being thirsty of the thrill has me always included to complicated situations. Who cares? I'm signing up for fun.
I stop behind an abandoned building. The structures of its two floors are all made of wood. Some parts of the windows are left hanging, as if they would fall anytime soon. Some cobwebs are visible, a sign that no one had cleaned it ever since. The roof made in an ordinary iron is already rust itself. They're preparing it for the renovation so there are no students lurking around here, except me.
I'm already at the back end of St. Angelus Academy. In a narrow path, two things greet my sight: the white wall that is quite high which serves as the boundary between highschool and college campus and then tall grasses wildly bloomed at the front.
At the left wall, I can hear faint noises of claps and a ball bouncing on the ground and in the ring. Maybe some college students cheering for their basketball players.
On the other hand, the tall grasses with white furry flowers at the top, which we call 'talahib' in a Filipino context, silently get swayed by the air. Everytime I glance at that side, I smell rebel;
an escapade,
a place where silent screams can be heard,
a mask of danger.
They sway in one direction, as if inviting me to come. To pass through it. I did it...before. I climbed the wall before. And surprisingly, a picturesque view of mountains, cliff, and a raging ocean met my eyes!
I sigh heavily, frustrated. I admit that I am tempted for a bit but then, I still have something to do.
The gentle breeze blows, causing my hair to curtain my view. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the whispering cold, allowing it to pierce through my skin before I put my mid-length black hair into a bun.
My eyes wander, searching for something I have hidden for a week now.
“There. Gotcha!”
I grin widely as I come closer to the familiar aerosol can. I can still smell the faint scent of the paint inside it. I slightly shake it.
I walk near the newly-painted wall at the left. It's the quarterly project of our junior high student councils. The president is very hardworking that it's so satisfying to mess around and stain the wall. Evil grin appear on my lips as I imagine the scowling face of Frederico Alvarez, the Student Council President. Just thinking about the dim stares of his brown eyes that'd send tensions to my sanity, I can already feel shivers down my spine. Didn't see him for weeks, anyway. Might as well trigger his boys and sergeants.
The mood of the song I am still listening to causes me to spray a big middle finger with my contact number below. I let out a sarcastic laugh while adding a lot of 'jeje' texts. Gaping at my work of art, I sniggle when I realize how lame it was.
'H3l1Ow RiCoxx. B0r3D? ;
HerE"s mY nUmB3r, 09***'
Disgusting. Dirty. Can barely read it. An oopsy nonsense.
Okay I admit, the luminous yellow paint is already a pain in the ass and those stuff I wrote are sting to the eys Yes, I literally signed up for this!
After a what I did earlier, I went back to our classroom as if I did nothing. Now, I try hard to make myself sink comfortably on the chair I'm sitting on the seat at the last row, with both legs on the wooden table, not minding the short skirt of my uniform. I am wearing cycling shorts, anyways. Who cares?
St. Angelus High unexpectedly received many enrollees last year. The lacking of rooms and its student capacities are a difficulty. For now, we settle in to two shifts of classes, morning and afternoon, so that a vast number of students would fit in until the buildings will be done building.
I peek through the windowpane and I saw the two almost-done buildings. I wish we could go back to the normal time of classes. My shift is too early. First subject starts at six in the morning. Dismissal is at twelve noon.
After a couple of minutes, I feel my back turns numb so I fix my sitting posture. A yawn escapes my lips while stretching my arms. Drowsiness is still pulling me to deep slumber despite the warm sun peeking through my face. Monday is never good to me. Little did I know, today is different.
With half-open eyes, I scan around the classroom. We're still few because most of my classmates are having recess. Some of us here are just waiting for the next subject teacher.
My eyes fly to Owen, the top student in our section. His eyeglasses are falling down from his nose every time he bows down and he always fixes it both through his forefinger and middle finger. By looking at him, I sense the hassle of wearing eyeglasses when you have a not-so-pointed nose. Good thing, mine is small and has an upturned tip.
My eyes then transferred to the girl near my seat. Her eyes are glued to her phone, as if it will vanish once she becomes inattentive.
Am I always that late to the point that I didn't have time to know my other classmates? I only know my studious classmates. Of course, they're my source of answers!
Michael, my classmate who just arrived, immediately sits at the second row. He take out a yellow pad of paper, wrote at it in the fastest way he can. My lips purse as I watch how he tightens his hold at the cup of fish all he bought at the cafeteria that the sauce is almost dripping at the lids of the plastic cup.
I shift my body into a more relaxing position, with both arms crossed at my chest while wearing a lopsided grin. Right then, I find out that one of the perks of going to school so early is that you'll going to have time to 'sambotize' homeworks and projects.
'Sambotizing' is a combination of the Ilocano word "sambot" which means "rushed" and the English suffix "-ing". We coined the term and is pertaining to someone who crams school activities. Still, for me, it's better to do those stuffs at home so I would have more time to sleep. Ah, I suddenly miss my bed.
Michael's pen's scratches against the poor paper saves me from sleeping. Looking at it so intently, an idea pops on my drowsy state. I put my bag pack on my lap and swiftly fish for my pen. When I grasp it, I stare at my table. Unlike my previous table, it is now covered with clean white paint. Gone are the marks of my doodlings here before.
I grin as evil thought came to my gist. Poor desk. Have I not been so stubborn, it wouldn't get a stain coming from my own fingers with the help of pure black tint.
'So much for being this early'
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