I missed the Dodekatheon moments. Your quirky and often, awkward ideas always seem to leave an inspiration to others. 'Keep smiling, Anneliese' :)

When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving oneself, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.

                                                                                            ---Oscar Wilde

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Chapter 12 – Becky’s Dreams

“Are you okay?” I asked Becky as we sat on our usual lunch table at the back of the cafeteria.

She had been in high spirits all morning, smiling and laughing more frequently than usual. I had prepared myself to comfort her and frankly, I half anticipated a sullen disposition from her after what occurred last night. I was not one to complain but I found it rather odd. Nonetheless, she seemed to be jumpy today.

“I guess,” Becky smiled at me and gazed vacantly to the center of the dining hall where the football team sat with their cheerleader girlfriends, more often than not, busy with their rowdy commotion.

It took me a second to see who she was looking at.

Matt sat unmoving, obviously indifferent of the laughter that echoed throughout the hall. His teammates, including Mike Sullivan with Leigh Murough—I think they were sort of together—were having a laughing fit. Once the annoying gurgles ceased, couples resumed huddling in pairs, whispering to each other’s ear — public display of affection with a passion. Ugh.

“Why’d you ask,” Becky added tentatively.

I shrugged, trying to conduct myself as casual as possible. “I just noticed how cheerful you are today,” I replied with a smile. “Not that it’s a bad thing.” I added with a wry smile.

Becky giggled nervously and beckoned me to lean closer. “I sort of confessed to Matt Adams.” She closed her eyes, creasing her forehead, waiting for my reaction.

My brows creased in bewilderment, my breathing heavy. “What?! Why? How—“

“Didn’t I mention to you before? I’ve sort of liked him since the fourth grade.” She was out of breath.

“Thinking… Still thinking… Uh no! You’ve never told me before.” She caught me by surprise. Lucky me.

Becky frowned and pressed her lips together to keep from grinning foolishly, I guess. “Remember my blunder in fourth grade?”

“Let me see… The one when you had your foot stuck in a bucket for the whole period and you had to drag it while clanking all the way to the nurse’s office?” I smirked.

“Yes… No!!!” She flushed angrily. “Not that. The one when Mrs. Riley asked us our dream jobs.”

I thought about it. When Becky was asked by the teacher she said, “I… would like to be a wife,” looking all confused.

Mrs. Riley paused from pacing all around the classroom. “A wife…” she repeated dubiously.

And Becky practically half-rambled, half-shrieked. “Y-yes! I’d like to be a wife to an athlete, with dark hair, russet skin, big brown eyes and tall… He’s really tall. I’d take care of the children and wait for him to come home from work. And I’d have to stay home and do the laundry and cook dinner for him then clean the dishes, oh and the house as well and whatever it is that housewives do.”

Becky gasped realizing that she was already gibbering, broadcasting her incoherent train of thought which probably should’ve just remained unspoken. This threw the class into a laughing fit. It was hilarious!

That time, it didn’t make any sense to me. She just illustrated his dream guy, for all I care, but giving it a second thought, those characteristics actually fit Matt Adams.

I snapped back to present time. “Okay… that was weird. How could you like him?” I panicked. “First of all, no offense but he’s a huge jerk. Secondly, he’s the most horrible, self-absorbed person in the universe—“

“Can’t you see it in his eyes?” Becky cut me off; still dazing at Matt Adams who might have noticed that we were talking about him because his eyes suddenly fixed on our table’s direction with an unreadable expression. “I think I understand him better than most people. Perhaps he doesn’t always mean to get angry. Sometimes, it’s just difficult for him to say how he really feels. But deep down, I believe he truly is a good person, although he does not want to admit it.” A smile trailed on her thin lips.

I threw her an incredulous look. “And since when did you start being a psychologist?”

Becky sipped from her glass shakily and replied with a shy smile. “I’m not very good with words so I wrote him a letter. Do you think he had read it by now? I was so nervous when I handed it to him; I thought I was going to cry. At least I managed to run off before I made an idiot of myself.”

So that explained everything, I grunted.

Let’s get this straight. One, Becky likes Matt. Second, Matt just confessed to me and lastly, should I tell Becky? If I should, then how? How on earth would I tell my best friend that the boy she liked since god knows when liked me instead?

I half expected the ground to divide and devour me so I shouldn’t have to deal with these absurdities. Sadly, it didn’t.

“See you tomorrow,” Becky waved and grinned when we reached my turn heading home.

“See you,” I managed a rueful smile and treaded absent-mindedly.

Click. Click. I heard a rustling noise from behind my back.

Turning around, I saw a lanky man, probably in his late forty’s; with a crooked nose and deep-set rounded eyes with a disturbed air about it. He wore a gray vest under a black trench coat, a black bowler hat covering what remained of his sparse soot-colored hair. As soon as I turned to look at him, he disappeared in a narrow alley way about ten or so meters from where I stood.

My head pounded when I realized that he was following me.

I chewed on my lip, as my feet dragged me into a brisk stride. It might not be a good idea to let my strange pursuer notice that I was aware of him. So I calmed my breathing and weighed the odds. I could probably outmaneuver the man by shaking him off my trail. If things turn out for the worst, I’d have to defend myself.

Wincing at the thought of my second option, I hastened my pace a bit more, veered sharply to small alley way and sprinted once I made sure he wasn’t tailing me, hoping to lose him. Heading straight home was not an option.

I kept the pace for a couple of minutes but my legs started to betray me. I gasped heavily, reeling from one junction to the next; occasionally groping on posts, side walk railings and even mail boxes to steady my gait. Turning sharply to the left, I found myself entering a diner then took half a second to scan the surroundings. Business looked slow; only three tables where occupied by the infrequent customers who appeared to enjoy the incandescent glow of the shell lamps against the wooden interior of the restaurant.

The ginger-haired girl behind the counter lifted her gaze from the book she was holding and shook her head as I darted to the ladies’ room. My heavy footsteps resonated against the stark white tiled walls of the wash room as I raced to the rearmost of the three cubicles, fumbling on the bolt in a desperate attempt to lock myself in. I sat nervously on the lidded lavatory seat.

After listening in silence for several tedious minutes for any sign that I was tracked by my pursuer, I decided that it was safe. However, before I could even unlock the bolt of the cubicle, the main entry door of the ladies’ room swung open, scraping eerily against the rusty hinges.

My chest throbbed in terror.  Suddenly, I backed away and seated myself, barely remembering to put my feet up, bending them quickly to my chest then focused on keeping my breathing silent, which was ridiculously difficult. It could be anyone, for all I knew, but it would not hurt to be cautious.

I heard the heavy careful footsteps approaching. The first cubicle creaked open ending with a soft thud against the tiled partition. The footsteps shuffled. If it was a customer, who innocently came here to use the toilet, she would probably get in the first vacant stall. Judging from the approaching footfalls, it wasn’t how I hoped it would be.

The steps came closer, paused then the second cubicle slammed open. I covered my mouth with my trembling hands so as to mask the sound of my ragged breaths and the uncontrolled whimpers that have formed in my throat.

Clop… Clop… Clop...

Every step brought me terror swelling in my chest. I could see his leather boots beneath the door, panic petrifying me, dulling my wits to a stupor.

“Mister!” a voice said from the entry way. It was girl’s voice. “This is the ladies’ room, I’m sure you are well aware of that.” There was authority in her voice though I could sense the slightest hint of apprehension with it.

“Sorry,” replied the raspy voice of my pursuer. “Must’ve misread the sign,” he added casually.

“The men’s room is the last door to the left.” She added firmly.

There was a shuffling noise that hinted me of his exit. I groaned deeply, letting the air revive my aching lungs while the sobs that I had repressed with utter exertion escaped my throat, though the tears that misted my eyes did not fall down.

A few soft knocks on my cubicle door made my heart stop again.

“Are you okay?” The girl called to me sympathetically.

“Is… is he gone?” I stuttered shakily.

“Yes. He went out of the shop and got into a cab,” the gentle voice said. “You can come out now. It’s safe.” She sounded reassuring.

I unbolted the door, groped with the hinges and stepped out stifling my sobs.

“Sarah!” Leigh Murough lunged at me agitatedly. “I knew it was you!”

“Leigh, I… I…” I mumbled at a loss for words.

Leigh led me to the seats in front of the counter without another word though I could see the urge of inquiry in her eyes. I seated myself stiffly on one of the stools where lone customers usually have their breakfast.

“I saw you running from across the street,” said she, placing a glass of water in front of me. “When you headed to the ladies’ room, I thought you just had to go. But I thought you look awfully scared and you didn’t come out for like ten minutes. So when that weird guy came in and headed for the ladies’ room, I knew something was wrong,” she explained cautiously eyeing on me.

I sipped nervously and stared my distorted reflection on the glass of water.

“You know that creep?” Leigh patted her wet hands on her apron.

“N-no…” I shook my head hesitantly, my eyes shifting everywhere then through the glass sliding door behind me.

Leigh rolled her eyes and groaned irritably. “Weirdo… We should report this.”

“No need…” I could just imagine how Emma would go berserk if she found out about this. She’d most likely assume that I’ve been up to no good, like I thieved or something. “Thanks, by the way.”

“If you say so… but, hey I guess I should walk you home just to be sure.” She began untying her apron.

“No… I’m fine. I couldn’t possibly put you in any more trouble.” I refused politely, managing a wry smile though I would gladly welcome her company. Somehow, I couldn’t seem to relax; as though the awkward, trout-eyed man would come snaring at me anytime.

“I’m closing in five minutes anyway,” she insisted. “Besides, it’s for old times’ sake.”

With a smile, I nodded. Leigh used to be my best friend until the third grade. I didn’t know what happened. Perhaps she just got tired of hanging out with a dork and found cooler, less nerdy friends. She just started ignoring me and I was such a big coward to ask why. That practically summed it all up.

I stood on the doorstep of Emma’s house with a relieved smile.

“So I guess we won’t be seeing that weirdo for some time,” she said eyeing around us with a nervous smile.

“I hope so, or else I’ll probably get a heart attack.” We chuckled softly for a while.

“But if you do see him though, tell me. You know, my Uncle Toby’s in the police department,” she said as she stepped away with a grin.

I nodded. “Thanks,”

“And Sarah,” she turned back to face me. “Back in the third grade… I’m really sorry. I’ve been a jerk.” Leigh seemed sincere enough.

“That was a long time ago,” I shrugged and met her eyes to let her know that I forgive her.

“Come around the shop when you’re free. Dad makes the best waffles, if you’d remember,” Leigh said waving goodbye.

“Sure, thanks Leigh.” I smiled and waved back.

Leigh sure was nice. She was like the sister I never had, only, better looking with fair skin, cheerful eyes, lips that always never cease to smile and faintly strong jaw line delimited by wavy taupe locks. I was so immersed with her quirky little tales that I totally forgot that I feared for my life.

I scurried inside, yelling, “Mom, I’m home,” before heading to the sitting room. I fumbled with the phone receiver and listened to the messages, tapping furiously; skipping the ones that didn’t matter to me until I finished listening to every single message and eventually sighed in frustration.

No message from Leon.

It seemed like it was just yesterday when I decided not to care. Actually, it was yesterday, yet here I was, making an absolute fool of myself.

“You’re late,” Mom said as I stormed to the kitchen to get some water, pausing to stare heatedly at the apple with the off limits sign still in the fridge.

“Yup.” I said not minding her ominous tone and swigged from my glass leisurely.

“And may I ask why?” Her eyes narrowed.

I shrugged. “Gym practice,” I lied.

“You’ve never been good at gym.” She resumed scrubbing the sink, her face unreadable. “You’ll just get yourself hurt when your left foot trips on your right or something like that.”

As if I needed her to remind me. “Yeah Mom, I’m very sure that’s helpful for my self-esteem.” I stomped grudgingly to my room. Ugh.

I wish Winfred was here. At least he’d listen to me without any prejudice. I could tell him pretty much anything. He’d nod while I grumble and complain about my messed up teenage life and probably if he’s in the mood, would make light of the situation with his awful jokes. I fell asleep with those comforting thoughts, until Winfred suddenly transformed into the man in trench coat, his fish-like eyes glowering at me.

I woke up panting, my heart in an alarmed throttle. Scrambling to my feet, I glanced at the analog clock on my desk. It read 12:32 AM. I reached to close the window, only to be swept by a cold gentle breeze that made the hairs at the back of my neck prickle. My eyes caught Leon’s house; empty and dim.

My stomach squirmed and I felt the heaviness in my chest again; as though some weight was slung on it which made it harder to breathe. I shouldn’t feel this way. I refused to.

The small dangling lamp in the front porch was unlit, the windows shut, with all the draperies and curtains remaining very still. The small parking space just beside the porch seemed uncanny without Arthur’s R8 glistening with a matte hazy polish.

It appeared as though no one was home.

No Leon.

Becky’s rather sprightly mood developed over a few days into a frivolous, labile streak. I could see how her eyes sparkled whenever she mentioned Matt’s name. Most of the time, she’d stare frowning for long hours, only to snap out of it giggling. She talked about him too; a lot. It started to annoy me.

My frame of mind was not anywhere near hers. I’d love to mope and sulk all day but I didn’t want to ruin it for her.

“I’m worried though.” She frowned erasing the scribbles on her notes furiously. “How long should it take for a boy to reply to such a straightforward letter?”

I shrugged tensely. “Maybe he’s still thinking over it. Boys tend to procrastinate—“

“You’re right!” She cried as if a light bulb just flicked on top of head.

“Yeah — what?” I groused with disbelief.

“I should ask him right away! I’ll find him after class,” she said with a renewed enthusiasm.

Wincing, I shook my head. Becky was clearly into him.

I glanced at Leon’s empty seat. Mr. Collins seemed to be informed of his absence or else he’d have thrown a fit every single day about how the new generation took education for granted. It has been three days since I heard from Leon. Clearly, he was enjoying himself so much in L.A. that he decided to stay a while longer. If I was lucky, perhaps he wouldn’t come back at all. That way I wouldn’t be reminded of my utter stupidity because obviously, I have been somehow duped into thinking that he might probably really like me.

I mulled everything over and over until my head throbbed. It pained me so much that all I could do was fume about it.

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Well that's a long one... I couldn't leave out the deatails no matter how I try to shorten the events. I guess that's just my style--the rambling type hahaha... but then I hope you enjoy reading a little piece of my imagination :)