Kapittel 18

Vanessa

When I first read Sun Tzu's Art of War, I closed the book dumbfounded, thinking that it was just a load of bull explaining in different creative ways with motivating quotes on how to avoid war. It was not a manual on how to proceed with war. Sure, the inspirational messages were encouraging and good. But the entire context? A load of bull. That was what's in my opinion.

A reviewer once said that it was all about avoiding war by using diplomacy. Warfare was the last resort, and it should be planned strategically so that no casualties and liabilities will be involved. I might be academically smart, but I didn't have the wits to win without fighting. I wasn't good at formulating strategies. Unfortunately, on my end, war had started, and it was far from over. Surely, if Sun Tzu was looking at me from up above right now, he'd doing a facepalm since I've been attempting to win a war that I had been partaking in and started as well. According to the book, going to battle was another way of admitting loss. If we follow that ideology, I was admitting loss, but with class at least.

Since the incident with the grasshopper, which I started, an unaired bullying contest between us two sparked. As payback for the chalk prank, I ordered a restaurant's entire menu under his name, requested it delivered to his classroom, and said that it'd be paid in cash. His vendetta was quick, the next morning, men suddenly barged into my classroom, introducing themselves to be from some event services, and danced in front of the class while singing me happy birthday. It ended up pretty badly on my part since my teacher reprimanded me for disrupting his class.

He knew I hated leaving a bad impression on my teachers, so I had to repay the deed. I stole his soap while he was in practice, and changed it with bloody soap. It didn't take a while to spread in school that the entire soccer team freaked out in the gym bathroom because Friso left the shower all red and bloody. With the genius of my friends Seandhe and Harley and the assistance of my only two friends in school, I made all the soccer balls explode that Friso kicked during practice.

It didn't end there. He added hot sauce to my drink while I was going to the bathroom on lunch break. Of course, I retaliated by throwing a realistic fake cockroach on his tray. It almost initiated a food fight since he accidentally threw his food on his teammates who immediately retaliated, thinking it was a game. Thankfully, deputies from the discipline committee were present and de-escalated the situation.

"I wonder what surprise you got in store for me today." I was startled when a thick, cumbersome arm suddenly hung around my shoulder, pulling all its weight on me. I immediately turned and came in face-to-face with the relentless fiend for the nth time.

God, what a great way to ruin my morning.

"Get off me," I grunted. I grudgingly removed his arm from me, smacking his back. Seeing his face always triggered my fight-or-flight response. And I was a wingless bird.

He scoffed, retaining his conceited smirk, and began to walk away with his usual long strides. My lips lifted in satisfaction as I watched the piece of paper having the phrase written: "I still pee on my bed." pasted on his broad back flapping in the air.

There were more unthinkable events that happened in the long span of my stay in Trinity Knight, and my days were getting more and more eventful as they passed by. The pranks went hardcore too that it got to the point I pre-ordered a large bucket of slime in preparation. I was determined to teach the devil spawn a lesson, however, Friso didn't seem to care or got tired of it. Rather, he seemed to have been enjoying it. It made me tedious as some time went on, but my rouse returned when taunted.

I was still the campus' enemy of the state, but things weren't that much hostile anymore. There were even others who started who showed support for me, particularly, the troublemakers ever since my prank war with Friso happened. But of course, his fangirls would never get over me. But I could handle them, so far.

I kept my mischiefs on the line, but sometimes, they'd go overboard because of Friso's reactions. It sometimes scared me, but I became more of a risk-taker. At first, I was worried about getting called by guidance again since it was going out of hand. But I once heard gossipmongers hushedly talk that Friso had been keeping the discipline committee quiet about it. So why not use the privilege and make fun of him to the fullest?

"I know that today's a good day for most or some of you. Unfortunately, I might have to break it since this final semester's preliminaries are about to start after next week." The Philosophy teacher, Mrs. Birmingham's announcement earned a series of different levels of groans from the class.

"Today, I will give you all 5 minutes to make a skit," the groans went on again, but this time, louder. "This will be graded as a project for the preliminaries. Which, according to your grading basis in this subject, will consist of 25% of your grade," she continued, shutting everyone up.

All of a sudden, the mundane air cleared, and the oxygen seemed to become fuel for fire. I couldn't see it, but I could feel that everyone was burning with motivation. I, too, was determined to get a high score from this simple skit. Midterms and Finals were both 30% of the grade, which was the highest. Having a high score on a project output, which was 25%, being the second highest consistency would be a big help.

"All right. Now reserve your questions for later, I'll be announcing your groups now. Take note of your groupmates." She raised her clipboard, pushing her eyeglasses up the bridge of her nose. "Let's start with Group A..." she trailed off and began segregating us into groups.

I lounged my back flat on the backrest, doing simple pen-spinning tricks with my pen. It'd take a bit of a while before getting called, I might as well entertain myself a bit.

"de Vries, you're late." Looks like the villain had arrived.

"Got caught up in a meeting. Sorry."

"It's already the second semester. Work on your tardiness, please."

"Working on it." To what extent could he be so rude to the teachers just because his dad was the school's largest shareholder? It surprised me sometimes that Mr. Mosbey could sometimes make fun of him in class without getting fired.

Fuck, I cussed when I heard his footsteps coming closer to my spot. I forgot he always sat beside me. I ground my teeth when the scent of the irate axe cologne mixed with androstenone went from faint to strong when he took his seat next to mine.

Once again, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I kept mum, ignoring him but his hand suddenly grabbed on my shoulder. With brute force, he maneuvered me into turning in his direction, compelling me to face him. "Looks like we'll be having a group work. I look forward to cooperating with you."

"Dream on." I rolled my eyes.

"Group D, we have Naybe, Hamamoto, Willis, de Vries, and... Hatherne." To hell.

"Oh no, I guess it's not a dream anymore." He chuckled beside me, inviting my anger to surge. Calm down, Vanessa. We're calm. We're calm. We. Are. Calm. Crack!

"Watch with the grip. You might break a pen... or two," someone's pleasantly cool voice said. I looked up and saw Alexie Hamamoto looking at us with an amused smile. She was one of the people who weren't antagonistic with me. In fact, I like her enough since she was amiable with me.

"Too late for that," Friso retorted, still laughing, causing me to give him a side-eye in annoyance.

"Ooh, I guess that's what they call a bombastic, criminally offensive side-eye," she guffawed, her amusement seeming to increase. But I could care less right now. "Don't be so hard on her, Drew." She ran to his side to nudge him. Okay, looks like she was pretty much amiable with everyone.

"Please, she's the one being hard on me."

"Haha, like a wife ma–"

"Hamamoto, what are you doing?" our quietly uptight instructor asked.

"Uh... meeting with my groupmates?"

"Right... everyone, go and meet with your groupmates in a circle." Mrs. Birmingham had no choice but to proceed in letting us go in groups now instead of rebuking her. We followed as instructed as our other two groupmates came. "Also, de Vries. Take that paper off your back. We don't want to know about you peeing on your bed," she said nonchalantly before turning her back.

My mood immediately lifted upon Mrs. Birmingham's statement. Baffled and surprised, Friso hurriedly fixed his sitting and hastily reached for his back. We snickered watching him. He took out the paper and a smirk crept to my lips when his brows furrowed and his forehead scrunched, his lips satisfyingly curved downwards to one fat scowl upon reading what was written.

He crumpled the paper and shouted: "Kobe!" as he proceeded to do a shot with it on the trashcan that was a significant distance away from our group circle. Unastinoshingly, it got in. He was always gifted with athletics. He was near perfect with his intelligence, charisma, and pretty face. His current personality prevented him from getting in the cut though.

"Hah," I scoffed while some laughed, and others applauded, obviously impressed.

I glanced at our teacher and watched her turn her back. I couldn't miss her lips mumbling: "They're definitely gonna be a handful." I know right.

"All right. Leaders, come right this way and draw lots to get your prompts." She faced us again, holding a jar with some papers in it.

"I'll go." It was Jersey who volunteered. No one else got the chance to object since they got on their feet and proceeded to participate in drawing lots. It didn't take them long to return with a puzzled look on their face while reading the thin strip of paper.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"Ethics. Value. Morals. Ends. Object," they answered, their puzzled look retained as they sat down on their chair. Our other groupmate, Kyla, grabbed the paper from her grip. I heard that they were close friends, so I didn't wonder about the unceremonious deed.

"What do these mean?" she asked, clueless as well.

"I think it meant our play should be all about ethics, and the words after it needed to be mentioned between the lines." It was Alexie who answered. "I remembered a senior who cried because she didn't get this right. It was under this class too," she continued.

"Now, any questions?" Mrs. Birmingham opened the table for asking questions.

One classmate raised his hand. "Ma'am, how much is the duration of our presentation?"

"It should be more than five minutes, but less than ten minutes." A skit more than five minutes?!

Another lifted a hand. "May we ask for the criteria, Ma'am?"

Other questions were raised. I utilized the time for brainstorming. Five minutes wasn't enough time for planning a good skit. I was sure Mrs. Birmingham knew it as well, she just probably had high expectations for us. As for me, I didn't know if I could pull off a good performance with an awesome idea. But the others? Probably.

"So, what do you guys have in mind?" I asked.

"I actually don't have any idea right now." Alexie shook her head. Now there went my expectation, down the hole.

I pursed my lips. "Well... it's good that you're honest."

"How about you, Jersey?" I turned to the person next to her who shook their head as well.

"I don't have any ideas yet too. I'm a Leo, I'm not that creative," they said, looking at their ringed fingers absentmindedly.

"Uh...huh." Yerp, expectation's down the drain. One more and it'd go down a sinkhole. "And... Kyla?" I looked at Kyla who was looking at me with anticipating, shining eyes. I suddenly felt like an adult giving attention to an excited child.

"I was thinking about..." she began to share her ideas. We all began exchanging ideas, integrating suggestions, and even closely bickering, especially Kyla and Jersey. But a complete, full-blown plot wasn't made yet.

Time was ticking, but thankfully there were lots of questions raised. Others even repeated questions and asked those that had obvious answers that Mrs. Birmingham could almost roll her eyes at us. It gave me that hint that the other groups were doing it on purpose, so they could buy time.

"Your five minutes start now. I expect a good output from each of you." We all panicked at the announcement, especially Kyla, who was close to getting hysterical.

"5 minutes, is she kidding? We can't make an entire play for 5 minutes!" she whisper-yelled. "And we haven't thought about what to play!" she began to fan herself with her hand.

"It's a skit, Kyla. Not an entire play," Jersey retorted, rolling their eyes in vexation.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't change the fact that we can't write a script within 5 minutes."

"How about we stop the talking and start planning, so we wouldn't waste these 5 minutes?"

"Shut up, Jersey!"

"No. You shut it, Kyla!"

I looked around. The other groups were already discussing amongst themselves as well. The two were still arguing while Alexie was busy watching them argue as if she was watching some peak cinema. Friso, unlikely, was busy staring at me like some sort of spectacle, uncaring of our presentation. It looked like Kyla and I were the only ones who had more than an ounce of care for the output.

"Okay, guys. How about this? We continue discussing the plot. But this time, with the ideas we had suggested. Then, we make an outline, with just enough details to make up anything related to it. One will narrate and the others will act. The lines will be ad-libbed," I interrupted. I looked at the time, we only had roughly 4 minutes left. "We're losing time," I added.

"Sounds good. What was our topic again?" I looked at Friso with a bewildered wince on my face. Wow, now he'd decided to function?

The others' attention was back on the presentation again. "We got ethics. We have to hit the following words: value, morals, ends, object," Jersey recalled the words on the paper.

"Hear me out. How about our play should be about..." I began to discuss the plot that I'd thought about. Incorporating ideas of the topic, including the words, suggesting lines that they'd say, and writing down the outline. Miraculously, they were listening to me intently, even finally giving useful suggestions.

I acted all confident to continue the cascade of ideas but I was uneasy. Friso's attention-fixed stare perplexed me. I had to admit, the way he ogled was bothersome sometimes. It rendered me feel like I was naked in his eyes. No, not even naked. It was as if he was scrutinizing through the deepest depths of my core, into my soul. As if he was painstakingly studying the etched lines and curves thoroughly with a coarse finger yet a gentle touch. I tended to ignore him most of the time. But the way he stared right now, the irrevocable attention he was giving me... I didn't know but it was making me embarrassed. Here, I thought I was somehow in control of my emotions. But this feeling right now?

This feeling that was making me go all giddy and weak in the knees with my blood flushing all over I was all hot and nervous that I was breathless like oxygen was carbon monoxide, starving me of my poise, drowning me in unknown anticipation mingled with anxiety. This feeling that was making me so conscious that it was difficult for me to make one single move because I might end myself getting embarrassed– that one embarrassing motion would make me a goner. This feeling that I felt naked, bare. This mix of complicated feelings was one to prove me wrong.

"Sounds good. I'm taking the maid's role," Kyla raised her hand. It was the one with the smallest lines, of course, she'd take it.

"I'm taking the dad's role," Jersey presented. That one was the second to have the least lines too.

"I'm taking the narrator's role." Alexie proposed.

"So, uh... who's taking the female lead?" Kyla asked innocently. It was at that exact moment that everybody's eyes fell on me. Silence ensued.

In fact, it wasn't silent at all. I could still hear the other groups talking, but it was eerily silent in our spot. All dead air. I was like a performer with cold feet before a blank-on, silent audience. I looked at each one of my group mates. They were all looking at me with expecting stares, including Friso. It was making the hairs on my back stand. They wanted me to take the female lead position, I realized. I had no choice either since the only people left were only Friso and me, and the roles left were the lead ones too.

"I guess it'll be me." I gave up with a sigh. Why did this seem like everything was already fixed?

"Nice!" the three cheered and made a high five. "It's okay if you're the male lead, right, Drew?" my apparent happy-go-lucky turned to the only male in our group.

Then again, silence ensued. I was no longer put in the hot seat, but I was unknowingly nervous about his answer. It was taking a long painful moment that I got to look at him as well. Of course, he could reject the role and take the others' role with his overbearing personality. But still.

From sitting with his back tense and legs spread wide like he was some thug, Friso suddenly reclined his back relaxingly on the backrest. His grey orbs laid from Alexie to Jersey, then to Kyla, and finally to me.

The waves hounded forcefully like a storm was winding the oceans accompanied by a raging tempest, attacking the wall that I had built, edified strong, swaying it– no, going over it. Like a tsunami. My heart thumped as a bell rang on a ship to alert the turmoil. But his eyes remained all steady and calm like the static moon that watched over the disaster during the reign of peaceful darkness. My resolve... my anger... they seemed to have dissipated all over one single gaze.

His lips curved. "Sure. I got no problem with that," he answered, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Great!" Alexie cheered.

"5 minutes are over. Please fix your chairs and go back to your original seating arrangement. Group A, prepare to take the floor," Mrs. Birmingham announced and we all complied, shuffling from our chairs and moving our chairs to their right position.

"Now, remember. Speak slowly so we can get past five minutes. Do a lot of ad-libs too," I reminded my group mates one last time. We nodded at each other like we had the same thing in mind before returning to our respective original spots.

Sighing, I lounged lazily on my seat, contemplating our incoming performance. The plot we generated was mediocre, but the dialogue was a different story. We planned to hit every single line knee-deep. I had a few ideas about the things that I was going to say related to the topic, given the weeks of my learning under Mrs. Birmingham's passionate teaching. I didn't know with the others though, they seemed to be pretty much knowledgable about it too, since they were nodding and responding like they know it at the back of their hand. Still, I should prepare a safety net, in case.

As soon as the familiar presence graced my side, I felt my entire being shuddered. From the scent of his strong perfume mixed with his tangy body odor that'd effortlessly waft into my nose, to the shadow cast by his arrogant figure, to the way he composed himself in every move he made that sent tingles to the ends of my skin, I knew it was him.

My heart tumbled in my chest, and a weird surge ran down my spine. God, what the fuck was that? Why was his annoying presence suddenly swaying me? I wasn't feeling like this before. I admit, he might have swayed me that one time. But it never faltered my animosity towards him. Where had all my anger and irritation gone? Was I too affected that he showed me support during the meeting earlier? If that was the case, I should stop feeling like it.

"Nervous?" he whispered in my ear, causing me to go stiff, my shoulders raised. His cool breath fanning on my ear was making my predicament worse!

"As if." I turned away from him, pushing myself a bit to give ourselves some distance. I swear to God, this guy never respected personal space. Urgh, this may be one of his psychological warfare to put me down or something.

"Right." He scoffed, looking at me with a brow raised. "You better not let me down."

Hah, such big words coming from him. "The same goes for you," I retorted.

"When have I ever?" A lot of times, Friso. A lot of times.

"You already kn–"

"We're ready to begin, Ma'am," Group A suddenly announced.

Mrs. Birmingham did a small attendance on the members first before nodding. "Begin."

I grew more nervous as each group preceding us performed. Each equally had its own merits and drawbacks, nonetheless, I couldn't deny the fact that they did wonderful presentations, praiseworthy I could declare.

I remained seated on my spot in awe and daze. My anxiety had run up on so many levels that I hadn't taken note of changes that I could apply, copied from the remarkable things I witnessed. I hoped that ours could also get to that kind of execution even though the sketch was made in haste and practice wasn't done. However, I should also lay aside my worries for a bit, my group mates were Trinity Knight students, and they weren't ones to estimate.

"Group D, you're up," Mrs. Birmingham announced, and I immediately rose to my feet with a pad of paper and colored pens as props in hand.

We all got in front, standing on the platform. The others brought their props too. Good.

"I'll give you two minutes to get ready," our instructor said while scribbling on her notes, her eyes never boring us. "Then I'll be checking your attendance and you may start."

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied stiffly before gathering my peers for one final briefing. Seeing that they were all relaxed as I briefed them, it seemed that I was the only one nervous. If ever one of them fucks up, I already had safety nets prepared.

"Okay, let's do this," I said and we all got into our places. Alexie got into the front right below the platform, holding her crammed script in hand, Jersey and Kyla went to a corner where they could not be seen, while Friso and I sat on the center platform.

"Don't fuck this up," I whispered to Friso.

"Don't you have any faith in me?"

"Not the slightest," I retorted before speaking to our teacher who now looked ominously menacing when she was just sitting on the chair foremost behind. "We're ready, Ma'am." I pushed my saliva to the back of my throat.

"All right, begin," she said after checking our attendance.

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. Just do like how you always did, I told myself. Ignore the crowd, pretend like you were the only ones to exist. Better yet, your classmates were people who you see every day, just pretend that you were friends who accept you even if you get embarrassed. They weren't a pack of wolves prowling and would feast on your flesh at one mistake.

I released a long breath, opened my eyes, and nodded at Alexie who had been waiting for my cue all along.

"Vanessa and Drew are best friends who do everything together..." she began while I uncapped my pen and began scribbling on the paper. Okay, that was an unexpectedly good introduction. "From playing tag to drawing pictures..."

I drew a quick picture of sunshine and flowers. "Look, Drew! I drew something!" I held it up.

"Wow. That's great, Vannie. I didn't know you're so bad at drawing." A roar of laughter erupted.

"I-I'm still practicing." I poured all my energy to curve my lips into a smile. He was testing my nerves again. "Anyway! What are you making?" I put my props aside and scooted beside him. He seemed to be making something out of a paper.

"A ring," he answered, turning to me with a wicked glint in his eyes. He lifted the paper ring for everyone to see. It was only a simple paper ring but it was evident to be neatly made, no crumples, no ugly creases. Damn, his flawlessness gets me jealous sometimes. I couldn't even get the chance to badmouth his handiwork.

He suddenly took my hand and slowly slid the ring to my ring finger. "Promise me that we'll marry in the future, Vannie." This motherfu– that wasn't in the plan! "Promise me that you will be my bride." God, he took my words about ad-libbing too seriously.

"Er..." I was at a loss for words. Everyone was gushing over our act, the others were even squealing. But it didn't shield me from receiving animosity from Friso's fangirls. I couldn't see them since I refused to look at the crowd, but I could feel that some of the girls' were picturing themselves burning me at the stake.

My mind was squandering from place to place, boggling how to avoid this situation. I looked around, internally screaming, "Save me!" but most were staring at us with intrigue, especially at me. Remember, Vanessa, you were the one who came up with this childhood scene just so the skit would get past five minutes. Ugh. Whatever, this was just a skit anyway. The grades after this were important. "I..." I'm so gonna fuck you up later, de Vries.

"Vanessa! It's time to go home." Nice!

Like a superhero appearing at times of distress, Kyla suddenly appeared behind me, grabbing me by the arms and pulling me up effortlessly.

"Okay, nanny!" I flashed a relieved smile, clandestinely shaking my hand to remove the ring. It immediately fell on the wooden platform.

Our spectators hollered: "Aww!" Probably disappointed that I failed to answer.

"See you tomorrow again, Drew!" I waved at him victoriously.

His eyes stared at the ring that lay on the platform, his eyebrows scrunching. "Definitely, Vannie!" he replied with a smile, but it was clear from the veins of his temple and hardened expression that he was restraining himself. You weren't allowed to call me with that monicker, asswipe!

"As time passed, they continued to spend time together, essentially growing together. From playing tag and hide-and-seek, they began competing in different areas..." Alexie went on with her narration and we continued to follow her words. We were finally getting to the crucial part, and this presentation would soon be over.

"One day, Vanessa came with a teddy bear."

"Look, Fri– Drew! A teddy! Guess who gave it to me?" I came up on the platform, dancing around with the teddy bear that Kyla lend us.

"Thinking that some guy gave it to her, Drew felt compelled at the thing in his best friend's hands." Friso looked at me for a moment before he snatched it from my grip and threw it to the ground.

"My teddy bear!" I gasped and began to feign crying. "Why did you do that, Drew? This is special to me!" I continued to act and loudened my cries.

"You don't need that," he suddenly said. For some reason, I thought his eyes were condescendingly boring to me. My heart began to pump crackling, boiling oil into my veins. I shook my head before it could get the best of me. I was getting carried away. I was probably seeing things.

"I hate you!" I hollered and picked up the woolly thing into my hands to walk away. But suddenly, his strong hand grabbed my wrist. I looked back at him. Was this still part of the acting?

"Why are you suddenly angry at me?" he asked, his forehead scrunched, his eyebrows almost kissing, and his eyes earnest. "Why do you care about it so much? It's just a teddy bear. Just like your shoes. I could even give you better ones." My blood pressure immediately shot up past the maximum level when he mentioned my shoes.

"Because my mom gave it to me!" I blurted out. It was the truth. My mom gifted me my school shoes to celebrate my entry into this academy. My mother was an underpaid nurse who always came home late with a tired face, hair messy, and eyes red and swelling. The hospital she worked at was not only understaffed but also exploited their workers for having no other place to go.

That was one of the most crucial reasons why I valued everything she gave me. She didn't have to do it, but she made her way to give me these shoes I was wearing with the money she earned from the sweat on her brow and drop of her blood while chasing sleep. A privileged boy like Friso would never understand the sentimental values of basic objects. It may just be shoes to him, but they weren't to me. They were my Mom's blood, sweat, and tears.

"Just because they aren't yours doesn't mean that you shouldn't take care of them. You should treat it like your own," I muttered under a rugged breath, my voice barely coming out of my throat. I could try and prevent my voice from getting thick, but I might not restrain myself from crying. The last thing I wanted right now was to cause a ruckus and show my weakness.

"It's just a teddy bear and those were just shoes. It's instrumentally valuable. It's a means and not an end," he replied, pulling me out of my reverie. Right, I should keep up with this. I shouldn't let myself get carried away. I didn't know why he was suddenly mentioning my shoes if it was either for the play or because he wanted to find out why it ticked me off when he soaked my shoes in the water back in community service, I was giving him my answer.

"Maybe to you, it's just an object for instrumental uses like for a cuddle when I sleep or when my feet are bare. But some things are intrinsically valuable for others." I retorted.

"You mean like humans who are ends of themselves? They're just objects who are created for a purpose, and that is to use them. We don't need to value them like your pet or friend." His cockiness began to emerge. He looked at the teddy bear, then at me. I didn't know if he was feeling his acting or he was acting based on his feelings, but we shouldn't go this far after this. Most of the important words were already mentioned.

"My mom gave it to me as a gift. The same goes for my shoes! She didn't have to use the money she had been earning to give me these, but she still did. These things that you deem to be valueless because they're made to be used are bought out of my mom's love for me," I answered him, tightening my grip on the teddy bear. "Of course, it's special to me like how a human would value– no, this may even be more of my value. So no other replacement or substitute can replace them!"

Something glinted in his eyes for a brief moment. "They'll grow old, they'll get worn out. That's why they're instrumental!" he suddenly took a step forward, tugging me closer to him. His jaw clenching, his eyes boring at me menacingly. "They are not worth the sentiment if they are temporary. A waste of feelings."

It looked like he had been carried away far longer than I had. I needed to de-escalate this smoothly so we could proceed. I couldn't let him have our personal business interfere with this performance. Or was he doing this on purpose?

"Fri– Drew, That's where you're wrong. To be loved is to be changed," I said in a softer tone, hoping that I could lead him to end this part. "Of course, they would grow old and get worn out. And that doesn't change how I feel about them."

"So that means you'll value your pens even when they already ran out of ink? Will you still keep your bag when it had holes in it?" he then questioned in a reproaching tone. As if he was asking me if I was absurd. "It's foolish that you're keeping things near that aren't useful anymore."

"That's not what I mean. This teddy is just ne–" Ugh. I give up. This felt like talking to a wall. "How about me? I'll get old and crusty, grow wrinkles, and have weak knees. Would your idealogy apply to me too?" I looked at him as if imploring him to understand. "Won't that mean that you're also treating me as a means to an end? I'm an object to you too?" I added.

"That's different, you're a person."

"But that can happen to an object too. It can be both instrumentally and intrinsically valuable like education and art," I replied. It was time to end this. "I don't know. It's maybe in your morals that things and dispensable and can be easily compensated by a new or a better version. But that's not the case for me. We're not the same." I yanked my hand away from him.

"Van..." he called for me, his eyes begging me.

For an unknown reason, his gaze tugged at my heartstrings, causing a pang in my chest. "Let's not see each for some time," I said and finally turned away, leaving the platform.

Jersey took their cue and began to guide Friso into the climax, pulling two chairs with them to sit. I ran to the back to make an entrance for the final part. "Listen, son. You need to apologize to your friend. You hurt her feelings." They patted his back.

"Over a thing?" he scoffed. "Why does she like them so much? More than me?"

"Let's put it this way..." they suddenly heaved a sigh. They parted their legs, resting their palms together below their stomach. It was giving Southern-dad-on-a-nap chair vibes. "Why do you value your friendship with Vanessa?"

"She means a lot to me. She makes me happy..." he trailed off, and the small squeals came their way again. I felt my face start heating up at his words. "Seeing her face never failed to make me happy. It always makes me feel like I could fly even when I don't have wings." Those lines were just part of the play, Vanessa. Don't be affected!

"But you have no use for it, son. So why would you keep being with her and be happy?" Jersey later inquired, piquing my interest.

"I... I don't know," he trailed off, followed by a small cheer from the crowd. "All I know is I wanted her by my side. Always by my side." Why was it suddenly so hot? It was uneasy. These sudden palpitations too, it was making me feel worse. Gosh, don't tell me I was gushing over lines said in a play?!

"That's because you want to be happy for the sake of being happy. You want her by her side because you want it. Some things are valuable for their own sake." Jersey patted his back. "Other people's things may only be things to you, but to the owners, there are feelings contained in those objects. Maybe it reminds them of certain happiness or... love. To some, it's what keeps them alive. In Vanessa's case, her mom gave it to her. The teddy is valuable itself for her mother's sake," they asked and he nodded.

"Her mother gives her happiness, it's inherent that she will value the things her mother gave her since it'd give her the same level of happiness too," they continued and rose from their seat. "Now, go and apologize."

"And so..." Alexie recited, and I hurriedly went back to the stand.

Friso remained on his spot, except that he was no longer sitting and the chair was gone. I treaded in small footsteps as he watched me approach. But it seemed that he was getting impatient that he walked over in wide steps.

I acted like a child on tantrums, embracing the teddy bear, looking in the other direction, and pouting.

"I'm sorry," I heard him say in a small voice.

"Hmph, for what?" I feigned ignorance in a pouty voice.

"I'm sorry for the teddy bear." I almost gasped when I felt his warm hand envelop mine. I turned to look at our hands, it looked like a whale casing a worm. This was getting way over the ad-libs, I swear. "And the shoes too," he added. His eyes had never looked so clear with sincerity.

I gulped down the unknown stuck in my throat. "It's okay," I replied.

"Wooh!"

"Bravo! Bravo!"

"That was great!"

Dopamine surged into my system at the thundering applause echoing in the classroom. I looked at my classmates clapping their hands with smiles on their faces. All the butterflies circulating in my stomach and the chains in my chest had finally dissipated.

"Impressive. Comedic factor, philosophical factor, dialogue, I didn't expect that things would go deep enough that you have a wonderful allegory about Ethics and the values of objects. It seems that it got a bit too emotional too." Mrs. Birmingham complimented. I didn't know that she was clapping as well.

Finally, it was over. It was a nerve-wracking performance. I never wanted to do this again. At this point, I was glad since we got to impress Mrs. Birmingham. It was like finding a needle in a haystack. God, what worse could happen today?

"de Vries, you will be grouping with Hatherne and Revel," Mr. Mosbey announced.

"God, not again." An exasperated sigh mirthfully escaped my lips. I ran a hand through my hair, biting my lower lip. We were groupmates again!

"We've been getting into the same groups lately," he said, winking at me. "Fate's crazy, don't you think?" he goaded, relaxing on the backrest, and putting his hands behind his head.

I only ignored him, scowling. Not that I was complaining but I was afraid he might pull off something heinous again as he did with the performance earlier. Who knew what shit he'd pull off to torment me? I admit, his cooperation during Mrs. Birmingham's class was good, but what if he wouldn't be as cooperative now?

I have trust issues, but the current situation hit differently since this one was pulled out from my gut feeling. Every part of me was screaming not to trust that he wouldn't act up. Good things don't come without anything bad in return. I didn't believe in the saying about getting your cake and eating it. Plus my gut feeling was never wrong.

God, I should stop letting this unwavering anxiety get to me, and prepare for the worst. Hopefully, I still had the energy to put up with him, if any energy was left.

"Your preliminary project for this subject is to make an interactive book about any topic we discussed this entire prelim. But neither of the groups should be having similar topics, so make sure to communicate with the other groups about your respective subject matters... It should be the size of a B5 notebook and is made from scratch." My eyebrows scrunched as the woeful moans invaded the room. "...After that, you need to provide a group report..." Scribbling on the whiteboard, Mr. Mosbey continued to explain the specifics of the quest while I listened carefully and jotted down notes.

I bit my lower lip, thinking about how to make this project successful. I've made a few scrapbooks, but never an interactive one. I once heard that they were a bit the same in some sense.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do the thinking for long since the archfiend beside me began poking me with the eraser bud of his pencil. Okay, I know the silent treatment wouldn't be the best course of action, but I'd be hyperventilating if I give in and provide him what he wanted. I grunted internally when he booped on my arm again, then put his arm over my chair. Here he was again, acting as if there weren't any space meant between us, breathing down my neck with his immense figure towering over me like a deity against an insignificant being.

We were at our usual book-sharing chore since Friso didn't bring his books for the nth time. Textbooks were mandatory and freely provided, I've even read in the student handbook that they have their own attendance. It had been considerably long since I first transferred here, and Friso had never brought one single book with him.

I knew his dad was the largest shareholder on the school's board, so the teachers might be leaving him off the hook because of it. If given that factor, then he doesn't bring his books since it was either: he couldn't care less about them or he was deliberately leaving them behind. With the near month-long history of torment I had with him, the answer was probably the latter so he could bug me. My grudges against him were going knee-deep at this point.

I closed my eyes and sucked air through my teeth when I felt him poking my cheek. God, give me strength, I prayed as I swatted his hand away. I couldn't even ask the others to take my place and share with him. Just one glare from him equated to them cowering away. It seemed like he was not only fond of bullying me but also making me a social pariah. I wouldn't wonder if a potted plant falls over my head one day. I guess he had a knee-deep grudge against me too, but his was probably deeper than just that.

"I will give you all 45 minutes to do a group meeting and discuss what needs to be discussed. Remember that the project has to be cost-effective, so no excuses for mommy and daddy to ask for their credit card. Next, it must be durable so that it lasts even after the Open House, wherein we will showcase your work. Finally, you must submit this project on time. I will not be giving a grace period after the deadline. Hear me? Deadline, not due date.

"Also, I hope that I won't be hearing anything from your parents about me suggesting to you to fly to Los Angeles so you could do the group project in the Valley. I hope the incident from last year will never happen again."

Curious, I raised a brow. What outrageous thing could have happened last year that it was worth noting?

"Wanna hear about it?" As if he read my mind, Friso cooed into my ear like a summoned demon tempting me to sell my soul for all the world's riches.

"No," I declined, drooping my head as I began to write down the things I had in my mind for making the project.

"It's a pretty interesting story. Even the police got involved." My ears perked as he continued, his voice is deep and smooth as if he was a snake slithering his tongue smoothly on a blood-red apple. "I heard that a body was discovered." Fuck, the crime documentary fanatic inside me was aching to know about it as soon as he mentioned the word body. Like what, a student from this school turned out into a sadistic serial killer? Or was it that they just plainly discovered a dead body after blundering their parents into a trip for a measly group project?

I had so many ideas in my head about what it could possibly be, the intrigue was getting to me like a plague. I tightened my grip on my pen, rubbing the tip so furiously it seemed like it was burning on the thin parchment. The temptation was grueling and I wanted to give in, but I will not let myself get carried away.

You don't care, Vanessa. You don't give a fuck. Don't feel intrigued.

"Go and meet with your group," Mr. Mosbey suddenly announced and everyone began to stagger and shuffle from their seats.

"Hi, Drew and... Vanessa, right?" a guy suddenly appeared before us. He looked approachable with his average figure, clean-cut hair, and smiling eyes. This must be our groupmate with the last name Revel.

"May I sit?" he asked, pointing at the abandoned chair in front of us.

"Sure!" I immediately replied. Gosh, I hadn't noticed that I had been gawking for quite some time. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Friso nod at him cordially. "Help yourself."

"Thanks," he thanked and pulled a seat for himself.

"Stop it!" I glared at Friso who poked the pencil's blunt end on my waist, triggering a funny feeling on my side. Would it hurt him not to be annoying for just a single day?

"Uh..." Revel pointed at himself.

"No, not you." I feigned a wide smile and pointed at Friso, immediately defending myself from a probable misconception. "I was referring to him," I added before glaring daggers at Friso who was entertaining himself with the scene I made.

"Your attention should be on me, babe," enemy number one whispered, his arm on the backrest suddenly got close to my shoulders, his wide palm enveloping my deltoid. "I lose it when you look at another guy. Am I that unattractive?" he continued in a voice so coarse yet deep like how male TikTok thirst traps do. It was cringy, downright at that. But he seemed to have cast a terrifying spell at me that the hairs on my nape stood and my toes curled.

"One, I'm no slut just like you. Two, shut up and cooperate like last time," I composed myself calmly for a swift reply.

He chuckled. He fucking chuckled, his hand gripping mine reverberating that my shoulder blades also slightly moved."Do you think I'll follow you just because you told me to?" My heart did an Olympic-worthy summersault when he asked, suddenly leaning his face on mine.

"If..." I was at a loss for words for a second, my soul almost taken from his ghostly irises. "...you don't want any trouble then I suggest you shut it." I turned away. Be still, my heart!

I have been dandy– no, looney since earlier. Was I suddenly going crazy? Why was my heart thumping with just the mere scrutiny of him? I knew this familiar feeling. I never thought I'd feel this way again, especially with his 360-degree personality change.

"Oh, baby girl. I am trouble."

"God, you sound so cringy calling me that." I winced at him.

"You guys are one heck of a cute couple."

"Thanks." "No, we're not!" We replied in unison to Revel's statement. I grit my teeth and gave Friso one last deathly glare before scooting my seat closer to the former to make a circle-like formation.

"So, uh..." my expectedly affable classmate trailed off, probably observing the animosity between Friso and me. "Any ideas for this project?" he asked, lazily resting his thighs spread apart.

"Oh yes, right!" I jumped on my seat, hastily picking up my notebook. "I haven't made an interactive paper myself, but I've seen some on Pinterest and heard about it from seniors so I got some gist on how to make it. I was thinking about..." I began to share with them my ideas about the project, saying each idea and material that I had written down earlier, and even making several drawings to give them proper illustrations of the things I had in mind.

"And the materials?" Revel asked after I had shared all my ideas.

"I was thinking if we could use scrap papers." I confidently answered. Surely, it'd be okay, right? Mr. Mosbey said that the project should be cost-effective. And this is the one I thought to be the most suitable option."Then what do you that will work?" Fuck. This was what I was talking about. God, what was he up to again? Why was he so silent during Philo, but is pretty much talkative now? Hopefully, he'd say something helpful instead of cutting me off for the sake of irritating me.

"Vellum paper is best to use as pages in this notebook," he replied, crossing one leg over the other like some sort of guy thinking he was an edit. Yet, his suggestion didn't fail my previous thought. "Maybe a cream-colored one."

"No, I think it's best if we reuse old notes and scratches. Vellum papers are usually used for scrapbooking." I shook my head at his suggestion. "Plus, it costs money."

"But it doesn't cost that much?" Dang, I forgot this guy was a prince born with a golden spoon in his mouth. "And using a vellum paper would be best if we want the material to be strong. Better yet, if you want to save money, an ordinary notebook page or coupon bond will do. It has almost the same quality as reused scratches."

"And the material's durability? Part of our goal here is that the material lasts a long time so it could be used in the school's Open House," I retorted, glancing at my notes to see the goal I had summarized.

"That's why I suggested the vellum paper in the first place," he stated.

"God, you're not making any sense." I rolled my eyes at him, no longer holding back the groan I have been struggling to keep in. "Don't tell me you'll suggest covering the book's page with Grafix Dura-Lar instead of acetate paper," I mumbled sarcastically.

"Why not?" he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. It makes me wonder profoundly how long this guy was going to sit on his throat and act like a king. "It's not that it costs much. Moreover, it's heat-resistant and doesn't tear easily like how acetate does." Okay, that was a good point, but it didn't deny the fact that it was gonna cost money.

I drew a deep breath. "Listen, Friso–"

"Listening, babe," he cut me off, his eyes glistened in obvious amusement while I furrowed my eyebrows at him for another deathly glare. Oh, how I wished that the figurative phrase "glaring daggers" was fucking literal.

"Mr. Mosbey said a few things in making this project. One of which is that it needs to be cost-effective. The second is that it needs to be durable so that it lasts even until the Open House. The third is that it needs to be made from scratch. What else aside from using reused scratches does not make it qualified enough to be our source of the pages?"

"I did say to make things from scratch, but not make it literally from scratch," a yawny voice laced with a poised tone spoke, seemingly to enter our conversation. I looked behind me, only to jump in my seat.

"Mr. Mosbey!" I gasped in surprise. It looked like he was going around to monitor us. This is good, so we could address questions regarding my conflicting ideas with Friso.

He gave me a small smile, like an unconcerned response to my little outburst. "Listen, kids. You can use any kind of paper as pages and whatnot as long as it followed the guidelines I pointed out. My point was that you cannot use an already-made notebook for the output. That would ruin the essence of creativity and construction, yes?" he asked, his eyes boring at each of us like he was hoping that we understood what he meant.

Okay, that was an eye-opener, looks like I've been too close-minded and took his words too literally. "Yes, sir." I nodded my head in unison, understanding what he was going at.

His gaze seemed to have changed into relief. "Good. But it's up to you as well if you make recycled paper, though I have to give a little disclaimer that I don't provide brownie points, I will only be grading you as is." he paused, his small smile stretching widely. "Now, continue," he said and left."

"Now that I think about it," Friso suddenly spoke moments after our instructor left. "Do you suppose that we have our notebook put together with a comb binding?"

"Sure, that's the same as using gorilla glue when you can use regular glue," I replied, crossing my arms. "Stitching the pages or using ring binders are good enough. I don't think availing book binding services or even buying a comb binding machine is necessary here, it's a notebook, not a portfolio. Plus, remember what Mr. Mosbey said? The essence of creativity and construction."

"Hey, I'm thinking about what's good for our output here." He clutched his chest, pretending like he was hurt by my sarcastic remark. "Plus, your suggestion's giving us a lot of work."

"By giving bizarre ideas? Right. And isn't this output supposed to be made with a lot of work?"

"Ahem." Revel, who had been silently watching us this whole time suddenly cleared his throat. I turned my head in his direction automatically. Fuck, have I been too comfortable with bantering with Friso in front of another person?

He took his moment to look at Friso, then at me, before giving us a piece of his mind. "Okay, upon listening to your ideas, I'm glad that you guys are erm... passionate in investing your time and energy for this project, which is what we're supposed to do. But, I have a few things to point out with your suggestions though to rest my reservations. Vanessa, I appreciate your ideas but it seems that you're focusing too much on the aesthetics– which I like, by the way since it has one of the largest criteria in the output. But Drew's opinions matter too. His concern for the items' resilience is a big matter as well. Remember, Mr. Mosbey heavily noted that it should last a long time," he ran his mouth with a waterfall of his factual opinions. His words were polite and careful, but they made me feel like I was the worst. It was purely distant and disdainful, like how a disappointed parent would sound.

"However, Drew," he paused briefly to give the devil a stern gaze, "I see that you're trying to give Vanessa a hard time. Listen, I don't want to assume things between you two with what I have seen and heard, but let's set all the sentiments aside and focus on this project okay?"

"So whose side are you on?" Friso asked, obviously annoyed that Revel wasn't on his side.

"Whichever gets this output the highest score." Our omniscient group mate released a sigh like a sleep-deprived dad with fussy kids. "So if possible, I'd like you guys to be on your best behavior because bantering will get us nowhere."

I was squashed to pieces. Pulverized. Scattered by the wind. Converted to nothingness. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to dig myself a grave and rest forever 6 feet under. I didn't expect that Revel was in a level of thinking better than mine, worst, I showed him my worst side. What hurt more was that he was treating me like a child.

"Yes, sir," I responded in a weak voice. I didn't expect that he was actually like this. Gosh, even if he wasn't, I'd still be flustered. I should have been mature and watched my actions. I think I just gave him a bad impression, heck.

"A promise from Vanessa will not only do. How about you, Drew?"

"Did you think it's good getting in my way?" Friso clicked his tongue at him, the former's cloudy eyes had coupled into a storm.

The latter shook his head, his clean-cut hair combed to the back never moving an inch. It made me appreciate how sleek he was. "I'm not necessarily getting in your way. What's important to me is getting good results in this group work. I will do any means necessary to do that, getting in your way, even." Wow, looked like there were some people who weren't afraid of Friso or his family at all. His standing was probably somewhere that could equate to the de Vries or something.

"Also..." he trailed off with a gentle him, tapping his fingers on his knees, his eyes closed. He was deep in thought. "I agree with Friso on using a Grafix Dura-Lar is much better, but the bookbinding thing is way too much. As for the material of the page... let's just consider things after we talk about the other things first, yes?"

I heaved a sigh as I put my hands together, listening to every word Revel was saying. Amazingly, Revel, whose name was actually Maxim got to fix things perfectly like an experienced manager. I got to contribute by sharing ideas in further discussions, my original idea was even followed with a few modifications suggested and agreed upon by us three, but I still couldn't help but feel like a burden.

I had always been the one to be in check with my emotions and regulate situations like this, but it was no longer the case. It felt like getting demoted. I blinked, and my sights automatically rested on Friso's god-like facade. This was his fault. He always swayed me into a mess like a twister– that his eyes shared a color with.

I hope I'd get a rest from this guy, I hoped but it seemed that Forlorn had been waiting all this time to cut my little sincere wish into smithereens.

"Ugh, you again?!" I grumbled loudly when as the thunder clapped and the rain fell harder. The wind was cold, but my body was hot in raging anger. Here I was again, facing Friso, who was holding his signature smirk on his irritating face.

Author's Note: Next chapter will be written in Friso's POV!

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Thank you for reading Bubble Gum Kisses! To keep up with my work, future works, and endless frustrations, you can find me on my Wattpad and social media accounts: