Mr. Handsome and I : Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

Breathe in, breathe out, Cindy – breathe in, breathe out – you can do this…

Giving yourself a self-boost is one of the first steps to take when you’re going to cause major havoc in a Chemistry classroom.

My lab partner is even glancing at me in a strange way, as we sit side by side – me fiddling with some test tubes and he holding up the instruction papers - both waiting for Mr. Hudgens to tell us to start.

Why- why me?
Why can’t I keep my emotions off of my face?

“You okay?” he asks, and I smile falteringly at him.

“Of course – it’s just that – that-“, I quickly ran through the mental ‘Stuff You Can Say to Avoid Attention’ list in my mind.
I chose the most ridiculous one.

“It’sjustthatI’veneverseentesttubesbefore”.

He raised one dark eyebrow at me.
I doubt he even understood what I said.
But if that’s the case, I thank thee, God, because I’ve just been saved from a major embarrassing situation involving me not ever seeing test tubes before.

Besides, what kind of person would be excited on seeing test tubes?
A lame person, no doubt.

But I’m not lame!

The boy rolls his eyes at me. I shrug, it’s not like I care.
Dark brown hair falling into his hazel eyes, he reminds me of a younger version of Enrique Iglesias – that serious expression, humour-less eyes, that set-out jaw… all the characteristics match. Not that I’m into Enrique, that is. Simply stating facts, of course.

I can’t place what subculture he is in though. Normally, you can tell by the clothes.

His clothes are... hm, normal. As normal as it can get, I guess. Kind of like me. Normal, that is.

But he’s wearing black. Could that mean he’s a Goth?

Wait- wait.
I shouldn’t even be thinking of clothes of someone who I don’t even know.
What I should be thinking of is how to place the fizz bomb (currently enclosed in my skirt pocket) inside Mark Wilcox’s test-tube without detection.

Glancing away from the dude sitting next to me, shaking his head slightly (as though he couldn’t believe his bad luck upon sitting next to the ‘New Kid’), my eyes lay upon Wilcox, one seat behind us in the next row, who was paired up with this curly-haired girl (who couldn’t believe her luck upon sitting next to the ‘Hottest Guy In School’ – although I strongly disagree on that point).
He doesn’t notice me, though.
I think he’s trying to avoid speaking to the curly-haired girl as much as possible by tinkling his test tubes around.

Hah.
Who would have thought? The ‘Hottest Guy In School’ doesn’t like talking to freaking annoying curly-haired girls. Though, I wonder how he managed to cope up with Meera, Maryam and those snotty girls all those previous years.

Hm. I’ve got a point.
Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to this ‘Miss Curly-haired’ because she’s a nerd or something.
Hmpmh.
Typical of him.

I shake my head to myself and blink. Woah -had Mr. Hudgens written the materials needed on the board already? I hadn’t realized.
I’m taking this thing too seriously, to be even noticing my surroundings.

And it’s so stupid, actually.
I just have to walk past Wilcox’s desk and slip the bomb into his test-tube, when he’s not looking . I’ll have to remember that though. I’ll have to remember that point really clearly.

When he’s not looking .

I’m broken out of my musings when Mr. Hudgen’s hands clap together and he goes, “Well, off you go – chop, chop!”

Chop, chop?
Must be a British saying, I think amusedly.

The boy next to me raises his eyebrows at the teacher now – and I can’t help smiling.
It seems like he’s conveying something like: ‘Shouldn’t you be handing me a knife to let me chop you up?’

And then he turns to me, and the smile quickly fades. Doesn’t this dude ever smile?

Seriously. Starting from the moment I had my first Chemistry class sitting next to him – I haven’t heard a peep out of him.
Maybe he’s just emotion-free.

Wouldn’t that be simply great?
If that were true for me, none of this would have happened.

Me letting go of that frog, that is.
Me going to the principal’s office.
Me-

Oh, that’s it. That sets me off in steam.

Argh- I hate Wilcox.

And I’m having revenge – and there’s no doubt about it.

I reach for fizz bomb, slipping a hand inside my pocket as I go, “Um, I’ll get the stuff, okay?”.
In a way of answering he (I still don’t know his name. Pathetic? You got that right) rolls his eyes again, turning away – and I take that as a ‘yes’.

Smiling nervously, I get up and… walk.
To the back of the classroom.
Where all the students were pushing each other out of each others ways to get at the chemicals required inside that ordinary lab cupboard.

Gulping nervously inwardly, I walk past the first table – consisting of a mousy-haired girl and a chubby boy.
And then…
And then, I walk past the second table.
Consisting of – oh, you-know-who and the curly-haired nerd.

And me?
Me, stupid as I am, go walking past as ‘Miss Curly-haired’ leans forward to tip a spoonful of sulfur into the test-tube Wilcox was holding – walking gaily like in the spring-time, chickening out at the last moment.
Chickening out, that’s right.

Chickening out .

Oh, come on, I tell myself, as I frustrated jostle past a fat redhead, immediately rushing to the back. I can’t be around Wilcox for more than a second before I burst.

I gather up the ingredients swiftly from the cupboard (along with other annoying hands who were scrabbling for the ingredients along with me) – sulfur and carbon particles, an empty test-tube, a test-tube holder and the likes – and taking deep breaths, I count to ten, turn around, facing the front, and start walking forwards, one step at a time.

1…

There he is – sitting four seats away to the front – flaxen hair with darker streaks, broad shoulders, that dark green shirt…

2…

Oh, no, he’s looking back, now – did he see me?

3…

Thank God, he didn’t – he was just looking back to ask the spectacled boy behind him something…

4…

Those eyes, those eyes – where have I seen them before? WHERE?!

5…

Wait – let me concentrate on the duty I’m supposed to do right now… not about Mark Wilcox’s eyes- those blue eyes…

6…

He’s turned back to the front now… the nerdy girl is giggling at something he said, but I hardly doubt she’s listening to anything he’s saying - she’s probably hypnotized by his ‘handsome’ face – or his eyes…

7…

Oh, no, no, no… I’m nearing him – I’m right behind him - he’ll probably see me, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO…

8…

Yikes – this is my chance! He’s looking back again, asking ‘Mr. Spectacles’ something else, and the curly-haired girl is staring at Wilcox still, not looking anywhere near the slowly heating test-tube hovering over the Benson Burner, the carbon and sulfur particles inside it melting a little already!

This is my fortuitous moment! This is the part in which all the events in the future will balance itself on!
This is the time in which I must not loosen my hold on the fizz ball, making it drop and eventually causing me to go to jail, if caught, because of attempting a alleged murder on a student body president (or the famous football captain of Chelsea Heights High’s soccer team – whatever the police would want to call him, unless, of course, they wanted to familiarize themselves by using Christian name terms) by using a fizz bomb(although, of course, a fizz ball is never harmful, even when put in dangerous particles of sulfur. Only the fizz bomb with erupt – not the particles – when heated to it’s maximum).

THIS IS IT!!!

9…

Okay, Cindy, that was too much.
Save all that for the soap operas next time, okay?

Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate…

10!!!

OH. MY. GOODNESS.

Ohmigod, ohmigosh.

Ohmigod, I did it, I did it, I DID IT! I plopped the fizz bomb into the test-tube – without anyone ever even noticing! Ohmigod. Seriously!

I can’t help smiling wildly as I sit back down next to my lab partner.
He doesn’t look at me, but I wouldn’t notice anyway. Because I’m overjoyed by how well I had accomplished my task, without Mr. Hudgen’s pesky eyes catching me, without Mark Wilcox realizing that he was potentially going to get smothered in ‘fizz slime’, without anyone actually seeing me -

“For someone who’s new here, you’re not all that saintly, huh, Varde?”

Ooops.
Maybe I was too quick to rejoice.

Oh, brother.
Why me?