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Chapter 11 — The Little Blue Box

Three fifteen. The hands in my wristwatch ticked much louder and faster than normal, it seemed to echo through the now empty girl’s locker room.

My heart rammed against my rib cage simultaneously with the ticking, bringing about the sweat on my hands and the mist in my eyes. The note sat beside me, an omen of my impending demise.

I knew it was him. Matt Adams. I gritted my teeth until they started to hurt, clutching on the loose ends of my sweats in a desperate attempt to restrain my cold hands from trembling uncontrollably. I rocked back and forth as I sat alone mulling over thirteen possible ways he could pound me to a pulp. And I thought about stealing a stretcher from the school clinic, along with a cervical collar, a leg cast and maybe a coffin as well.

Taking a few lungfuls of breath, I said a haphazard prayer for any sign that would notify me to chicken out, go home and convince my mom to move to Antarctica or even Narnia; somewhere far, far away where there’s no Matt Adams waiting to claw on my throat. The sign never came, so in every way possible way, I braced myself to finally spew to his face that I would not be his personal gopher ever again, but more importantly, I needed to retrieve Winfred’s book, if it still existed.

Finally, I stood reinforcing my resolve. If the situation turned out for the worst, I could always use the pepper spray safely hidden in my pocket or probably the self-defense moves I managed to execute yesterday; though I doubted it would work this time.

The door creaked faintly when I pushed it with a shaking hand. Protruding my head through the narrow opening, I saw him — Matt Adams, standing on the free throw line of the basketball court, eyeing blankly on the blue rectangular box clenched in his arms. There was a grim overcast from his dark furrowed brows that made me shiver and gasp for breath. Before I could even step closer to my doom, he said something which I didn’t quite comprehend being several yards away.

He nodded as if someone was talking to him. Then he opened his mouth again and glowered at whoever it was he was conversing with. Hurriedly, I fished the glasses from my pocket and shoved it on my face as fast as my trembling fingers could manage.

I craned my neck, treaded softly, careful to keep my presence unknown to them.

Becky! She stood motionlessly in front of the towering Matt Adams, her light blond locks casting a dim gloom on her candid freckled face.

Didn’t I tell her to go home without me? She hadn’t found out about Matt’s note, had she? I mean, I tried my very best to act as normal as I could, so why did she come here? To bargain with Matt? As if he’d listen.

The questions whirred inside my brain; it felt like my thinking process would short circuit any minute.

Becky stepped closer to Matt so that they were just a foot away from each other. He continued to glare at Becky while she stared silently on the floor, her lips quivering as she spoke softly.  

“Please…” said she, her voice breaking, tremulous hands offering a tiny pink envelope to the ungrateful recipient who took it unappreciatively. “R-read it,” she stammered, misty-eyed, her cheeks flushed, then scuttled for the door.

Before she could reach the way out, I skidded back to the hallway as fast as my feet could carry me and swerved to an open utility room, my heart pounding, my train of thought lingering on Becky.

The room smelled pungent of detergent and was cramped with vacuum cleaners, mops and other tools that were not familiar to me. I could not make myself fit inside decently without toppling a few things. Spiders and insects began to sprawl from the gritty walls and I had to bite my lips to contain the shriek that had formed in my throat.

I tried to calm my breathing while peering through the crevice that allowed a narrow wedge of light into the broomstick cupboard. Becky paced back and forth as if deciding where to go next, teary eyed as she eventually headed outside the school. I waited for her footsteps and muffled sobs to finally fade away before I slid out to the hallway, producing an avalanche of cleaning utensils as I shut the door behind me.

Shaking the grime and spider webs off my clothes, my feet dragged me to Matt Adams; the previous trepidation instantaneously transformed to rage. I barged in and stormed to where he stood. Whatever he did to Becky, he would pay for it.

I could not help but stare at him with much indignation. Were I a witch, I would’ve turned him into a weasel, chopped him to pieces and fed him to crocodiles. “You fiend…” I hissed pointing at him.

Matt met my eyes with an inquisitive gaze as he closed in until he towered over me that made me have to stand on my toes to see his face.

His hand abruptly veered to my head which made me flinch. Fear struck me again. My hands impulsively flew to my head in an attempt to guard from an expected blow. My brain automatically made the essential computations. With such hefty arms, I’d probably be sent flying to Alaska in three seconds.

One…

Two…

Three…

Nothing happened. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes.

His fingers weaved through my hair with a raised eyebrow. “Spider webs,” he mumbled flicking the dirt off his nails after examining it. “What’ve you been up to?”

“W-what have you done … to Becky?” I stuttered ignoring his sudden curiosity.

“Nothing,” he replied with an aberrant nonchalance.

“She was crying when she left!” I gritted through my teeth.

“I have no idea, honestly.” He put his hands up after pocketing the envelope that Becky gave him. “Okay, so let’s get to business.”

“Get back at me all you want but leave Becky out of this. Don’t you dare.” My voice shook with rage. “I couldn’t believe how people like you do it.”

His dark eyes glowed with amusement. “By like you, you mean?”

“Atrocious… repugnant… vile… cruel… I couldn’t think of any single word that best describes people like you.” I poured my rage on him with a passion.

Matt Adams’ eyes narrowed to slits, his sneer gradually pulled down. “And what… exactly do people like me do that makes us… what’s the term? Repugnant…” His face dimmed with an indecipherable air about it.

I grunted out of exasperation. Just break my bones so we could go on with our lives!

“Just to give you a glimpse, first, you treat me like a slave… Then you just had to terrorize my best friend! How low can you go? It’s your fault that I’ve been branded a nerd with a lifetime warranty!” I yelled with all the fury gushing out, and then chuckled humorlessly, my whole body trembling. “You! You… ruined everything…” My voice broke and before I knew it, tears streamed from my eyes.

I felt really stupid for rambling. Somehow my ‘angry nerve’ had a direct synapse to my tear glands.

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the floor. “I don’t treat you like a slave.”

“Really?” I retorted bitterly blinking rapidly to clear the haziness in my vision without much success.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I was selfish.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I — I was afraid…” He cleared his throat. “I was afraid that… if you stopped being a nerd, someone would take you away from me. So I blew it off. I ruined your first day in high school.” His dark gaze shifted to me; suddenly I couldn’t move.

“I don’t understand…”

“How thick can you really get?!”hHe growled, his fingers pulling on his short raven hair. “Didn’t you even realize that we’ve been in the same school since god knows when? Did you really think it was all just a big coincidence? Didn’t you even see my efforts to approach you when nobody else would?”

My heart raced. I didn’t like where this was going.

“I’d do anything… Anything to get close to you.” His eyes softened when they met mine. “I like you Sarah. I’ve always liked you since kindergarten. In fact… I think I love you.”

My jaw dropped, my train of thought taking me on a one way trip to Never, Never Land, where children never aged and where every happy thought made the disheartened fly if they just believed in Tinkerbelle. Yes. This must be some weird dream.

Or a joke. Very funny.

Ha-ha!

Someone throw me a straight jacket!

I gawked at Matt Adams for a good couple of minutes before my drying lips parted, but no words came. Oh by the way, I just remembered that my mind blacked out a minute ago — information overload, perhaps. I was petrified. I needed to be in medication. I seriously do.

“For god’s sake Sarah, speak up!” he blurted, panic apparent in the blackness of his eyes.

“I… don’t know what to say,”

Of course I would not know what to say! The tyrant who had tortured me for a good ten years of my life had just confessed his love to me. I couldn’t quite wring out the sense in all of it.

He searched for my hand, enclosed it in his own with a gentle squeeze. “Just say you’ll be my girlfriend. It’s as simple as that.” A sad little smile crossed his fervent features as his intense eyes studied mine.

I turned away, stumped by the absurdity of the circumstances. Yet, he did not let go of my hand, placed the blue box onto my palms and whispered. “You said I treated you like a slave. For that, I hate myself. I’d treat you as a princess, if you’d let me.”

He returned my hand and smiled. “I’ll wait,” then left me to wallow in silence the probability that I might be insane.

“You’re home.” Mom protruded her head from the kitchen as I passed mindlessly, basically heaving myself up the stairs to my room; carrying the blue box Matt gave to me, in a manner one would when offering a sacrifice. “Leonard called,” she said throwing a skeptical look at me.

“W-what?” I blinked from my trance.

“Leonard called twice, left a message too. Said he’ll—“ 

“Okay. Thanks Mom!” The mention of his name restarted the circuit board in my brain so, without delay, I scampered to the sitting room, tripped twice before I reached the phone, then picked the receiver with much excitement; it almost tumbled off my tremulous hands. I listened to the messages, reminding myself to breathe.

Beep. Mom’s recorded voice played. Hi! Sarah and I can’t pick up the phone right now. You know what to do. Beep.

The first one was from Mom’s clinic. Next. There was a rustling sound and a deep sigh before he spoke. My stomach cringed.

“Sarah, hey it’s Len. I heard you were in some sort of situation. Are you okay? Call me.”  

The second one made the thumping in my chest even louder.

“Sarah… Sarah. Are you mad at me? I’ll explain everything when I come back okay? Please call me.”

It was as though I could see him materializing in front of me, his worry-stricken face being lit into the awkward twitchy smile that never failed to make my heart skip a few beats. Ugh. I hit my head repeatedly. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

I pushed the listen button again.

“Hey, Sarah, I’ll come back as soon as I can. Maybe tomorrow night. Please call me, as soon as you get this message… err…”  Static.

I gulped thinking if I should call him back, then snapped out of it and fumbled on the caller I.D. Breathe, I told myself. But as the phone rang, my lungs went immobile once again. It took sixteen long seconds (yes, I counted) before he picked up.

“Leon!” I blurted without delay.

A voice answered but it was not Leon’s. That couldn’t be right. I took a quick glance at the number again. It was his phone; I checked three times.

“Hello?” It was a girl’s voice.

I’d reply but there was a lump swelling in my throat.

“Len’s not around right now but—“

I hung up glumly and stomped my way upstairs. I shouldn’t have called him back. Upon reaching my room, I threw myself in the shower, muttering bitterly. My chest writhed as though it was being crushed by an invisible weight. Ugh. Indigestion again?

I dressed irritably, practically flung myself onto my bed and buried myself under the mattresses. Confusion consumed me. As if I needed Matt Adams to suddenly act so sappy, it made my nape prickle. As if my life wasn’t miserable enough. And Leon… Ha! For all I care, he might as well never come back and have himself crucified on top of the letter Y in Hollywood.

Out of the blue, I had the creepiest urge to scream. I felt extremely furious and I gnashed my teeth until they ached.

Finally, I busied myself with my schoolwork, scrawling on my notes angrily. When I was done, I took the blue box from the table and set it on my lap. I opened it. And there it was. The Little Prince my dad gave to me; a bit torn on the edges, brittle and yellowing with age.

Ever so gently, I flipped to the page where Matt tore off the parchment he left in my locker and replaced the sheet on its rightful place. Matt’s squiggly penmanship ruined it, but it was better than nothing.

The first page looked the same, with a tiny note scribbled on the left upper corner.

To Sarah,

May all your beautiful smiles be embossed in these pages.

Love,

Dad

I traced Winfred’s writings with much wistfulness it made me smile as a tear rolled down my cheek. I turned the pages and started to read silently and for a moment there, I was five again, my brunette head resting on his Winfred’s warm shoulder. His voice was vibrant as he read the first few lines then paused to smile at me.

I had imagined him saying, “It’s late princess. You should sleep.”

And I’d shake my little head eagerly and grin widely. “No Dad, the story’s not done.”

“But I’ve read this to you a thousand times,” he would complain, all the same, he’d still finish the story and tuck me in. Then he’d kiss me on the forehead and would whisper, “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

“Good night Winfred,” I smiled as my eyes drooped jadedly.

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Hi there stranger!

   Well here it is! Finally made it. I apologize for the late upload. And I surely hope you'd like it and if you do, vote, tell your friends and let me know what you think... I hope it wasn't too late to make it for the Watty's but hey, I just like to write and I hope my works could inspire you...

love lots,

shim <3