The War Between Us : Chapter 15

by September
in

Chapter 15:

 

Dedicated to Cassandra D. :)

 

 

I froze in my seat as he strolled towards me down the aisle. He came closer, I could see every step he took; I could smell his cologne, it was spicy and full to the brim with sharpness.

I opened my mouth slowly to utter something (probably something incomprehensible considering the state of shock I was in) – but he simply slid by me, passing me without a word.

I couldn’t believe it. He didn’t even look at me!

 

 He didn’t see me?

 

Of course, there was also the possibility that he was ignoring me. I would totally ignore me if I happened to be the source of all my troubles, if I were him. But I wasn’t.

 

I wasn’t Harvey Ryder.

 

I was me, Cindy Varde.

And I did not like being ignored.

 

I twisted my head, my spirally-black hair sprinkling around, and I narrowed my eyes in frustration, as Ryder places himself a few seats back from mine. 

 

I was going to apologize to him – and he acts as if I don’t exist?!

 

Oh, yes, Harvey ruder had released a fire-breathing monster within me that wasn’t going to back down, now.

 

My hands involuntarily clasped my bag’s strap and before I knew it, I had stood up – and was making my way towards the back. My steps were jiggled – the bus was moving hurriedly – but somehow, I reached the two-seater on which Ryder was sitting in. He didn’t notice my coming; he was sitting on the window side, and staring out, just like I was doing a few minutes ago (before he came in the picture and ruined my scenery-watching).

Some others sitting randomly in their usual places notice me, though, and are still watching me with inquisitive eyes.

Well, I guess, from their point of view - it’s not that hard to notice a pretty, slender girl with dark, curling hair and burning green eyes gaiting determinedly, is it?

 

They’ve probably never seen me in the back rows, though. Because, normally, I would be sitting in the same front-rowed seat I was sitting in a few minutes (-oh, what the heck- it seems like HOURS!) ago and when Jerry came along – he’d usually sit beside me. And we’d start talking about anime (like the latest Naruto show that aired last night) or more serious topics (no, not homework. Stuff like what will happen in Heroes tonight. It’s always T.V. related with Jerry, you know).

Of course, those people who notice us wouldn’t know that (unless, of course, they had been eavesdropping on us. Shame on them!), but you know, I’m just saying.

 

I glare at the back of his head. As though he could sense my laser-like fixed death-gaze, he slowly looks up.

His liquid-chocolate (streaked with goldenness!) eyes meet mine and I expected a reflected death-glare.

Instead, he stares at me, face, deadpan; it was as if his gaze on me held some sort of mockery, soberness and maybe – standoffishness?

 

Without waiting for him to say anything, I plant myself firmly beside him, my tall, slim figure swooping down. He tenses immediately, because he straightens up and – thank God; he’s showing some emotion! Hallelujah! – starts to lour back.

 

“What are you doing here?” he scowls at me, his voice going an ounce lower on the word ‘you’.

I can not be more pleased at him doing so (scowling, that is) – it gave me proof that he did have feelings, after all, and it was his every right to scowl at me. I did create the cause that creamed him, after all.

But hey – it was partly his fault, too – he didn’t have to have helped me!

 

“I could ask the same of you” I reply, smartly back, a slight smirk spreading across my lips.

 

He looks away; he probably didn’t like the smile I was giving him – or maybe, it was the close proximity of our faces that was scaring him – and replies, as I carefully put my bag beside my feet (it jerked along with the rhythmic jerks of the bus).

 

“Look- I didn’t call the ‘I-Need-Trouble’ Hotline number, okay?”, he mutters under his breath.

 

“Hey!” I answer. I must admit, I was a bit hurt at that – I didn’t mean to be a trouble-maker; I’m just born that way. “It’s not like I wanted to cream you, it just happened!” I retort, persistently.

 

“Cream me?” his hazel-colored eyes widen incredulously, as one of his dark eyebrows go up.

 

“Yeah- “ I started to explain casually, about how I liked using words I made up, but then, I was interrupted by a loud gasp.

 

A very loud gasp.

 

And it came from Maryam Al-Dabbagh, who was standing a few inches in front of Ryder’s (and mine) two-seater, down the aisle.

 

She was wearing a scanty, hot-pink tube top and miniskirt to go with it – and I was amazed her perfume didn’t let me know she was there before she gasped. It was so strong, and so badly flowery, I swear – it made me feel faint, just inhaling it in.

 

Maryam happened to share the same bus with me- yes, I know, poor me, eh?

However, I had never talked to her before (who in their rightly mind would, may I ask?) and I was puzzled as to why she would be gasping at me – when we’ve never even had a merry (hah!) chat before.

So, it was in curiosity that I raised my head from Harvey’s eyes, to turn it in Maryam Al-Dabbagh’s direction.

 

Ryder looked up at the same time I did – and his eyebrow was still raised; and then, I realized mine was raised slightly, too.

 

What did Maryam Al-Dabbagh want? I thought, as I cringed back, appalled, at her choice of clothing.

Or more like, lack of clothing.

 

Seriously, how did the school allow people like Maryam to come to school at all, wearing THAT?

 

I was broken out my musings, when Maryam’s mouth twisted in a smug grin.

Oh, no, this couldn’t mean good news.

If any one of the M ‘n’ M’s (excluding Mark Wilcox) smiled arrogantly at a fellow teenage girl; it definitely meant bad news.

Or, at least – that’s what Liv told me.

 

My eyebrow goes even higher when Maryam places her hands on her hips while the bus still jiggled rapidly in the background (along with that occasional engine noises) and looks smugly around at the fellow seated people of the bus, who had noticed the scene and were watching curiously.

Firstly, I needed to admit: I don’t know how she managed to stand like that, though, of course, she was jerking a bit – but not as bad as my bag was (it was bobbing up and down beside my feet; I could feel it bumping against them!).

 

And secondly, I needed to admit, yet again: I was afraid of what was coming. I was never usually scared of things – but, it’s true – I didn’t like that smirk she that she gave me, and the one she was giving everyone now, as though she wanted to attract peoples attention even more, before she would utter what was in store for me.

And I knew, ‘what was in store for me’ was NOT good.

 

At least, for me.

 

“Well, well…” Maryam finally begins to speak, a wide smug grin on her pretty features – her dark eyes darting to every face in the bus (who were looking right back at her, too) and finally resting on mine.

I could feel every muscle tensing in Ryder’s arm – this was as our shoulders were close together, brushing. He knew something bad was going to occur, too, I guess.

 

“What have we here?” she continues, her dark eyebrow going up in mock hilarity.

 

“What are you talking about, Al-Dabbagh?” I mutter murderously at her, my lips barely moving. I wanted little attention directed towards me as possible – I knew she was trying to humiliate me in public – and I wasn’t going to give her the chance to do that.

The humiliating thing was probably on account of Candice’s orders, of course – they had no choice but to follow her dumb orders. Hey, she wasn’t named ‘Queen Bee’ for nothing, you know.

 

However, Maryam Al-Dabbagh ignored my words, as though they were a pile of junk waiting to be thrown away.

 

“Cinderelle Varde, that newbie, and our very own, Harvey Ryder! Aww… how sweet!” she gushes loudly in this pathetic, chirpy voice and looks around quickly at everyone, ordering them with her eyes to start gushing like her.

She was acting like some kind of reporter who just spied upon an ugly, untrue piece of news – and was bursting to reveal it on a newspaper’s headlines.

 

But the saddest thing was that the people who were watching, they obeyed her; soon, the whole bus was filled to the brim with gurgles of mocking laughter, wolf-whistles from some of the boys and most of all – the same gushes Maryam created.

 

My cheeks, as they would be on any other girl in the same position as I was in, wasn’t a deep red color.

I had enough experience with Ashley O’Connell to know that people like her, and Maryam, were people who just loved to lower the self esteem of others and crush their spirits with the smallest of words.

So, I wasn’t embarrassed by all the noises directed at me and Harvey.

 

And amazingly, amazingly, when I happened to cast a glance at Harvey Ryder’s face – to see how this all went with him - Harvey’s cheeks weren’t red either. He still had his eyebrow up, and his face was expressionless. Well, not expressionless exactly – but, he looked at Maryam with disgust, as though he was bored with the whole situation- as though he’d been through it before.

Like me.

 

With a feeling of satisfaction, that Harvey didn’t seem to have added any more ill feelings towards me, I watched as Maryam turned her pretty face towards me again, and smile wickedly – she was satisfied at having achieving her goal, too. Publicly mortifying me and Ryder, that is.

 

I had realized, while I glowered back at Al-Dabbagh, that this situation was my fault, too.

This would never have happened if I hadn’t come and sit beside Harvey.

 

 I took in a deep breath to ready myself for what was going to occur shortly; I started to stand up – I needed to tell this Maryam Al-Dabbagh what I thought of her.

And just then – while the bus was loaded with noises – the bus halted once again, to let in, of course – another student of Chelsea Heights High School.

 

But see- this is the part where most of my unlucky stuff happens. I forget even the littlest information, which would be of utmost importance in the near future.

 

What did I forget in this case, you ask?

 

Don’t ask.

 

You wouldn’t want to know the answer.

 

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