Fallen (a short story)

HE WOULD ALWAYS TAKE MY BREATH AWAY.

The mere sight of him excites me a lot, it would always make me wear the smile that I don’t usually show, worst of all, it makes my heart jump out of its cavity. His strong and appealing demeanor would take me out of my sanity, taking me to a trance. Completely absurd, I know, but he’s the reason why I would always want to go to school. In addition, making me more stupidly in love with him, he’s like my personal brand of battery that energizes me everyday.

As my eyes followed his gait, there's a sudden feeling that makes me more exuberant. Then it snaps out of the line of secrecy. He saw me looking at him and for a moment; it’s as if everything around me fall out of focus as I melt away as he, too, lock his eyes at me. I wanted to look away, pretend nothing's happened and just disappear in the calloused crowd, but I am too glued to look away. 

He turned at me. For the first time, I got a clear view of his handsome face. His gray eyes, those grey eyes, posses that rather solace anybody would want, his curly hair hanging like cut-down curtains and his mouth is in perfect straight line. However, what got me off guard is his pale-white skin that bounces the light back that makes him look god-like.

Unmoving, for a moment I thought he’s a statue–carved as a tribute to some forgotten pagan god. Then, something else happened that made my leg wobbly almost unable to carry my weight. He smiled at me before turning away. Or so I thought. No! He. Smiled. At. You. The little voice at the back of my mind said.

Yes! He is looking at me, then, as though not contented with this, he smiled at me! My sunshine, my valentine, my inspiration, finally for the first time, caught me starring at him and smiled at me! Still shell-shocked and feeling wobbly, I make my way to my first class.

Later, as I took my seat at Mr Rickson’s class, his voice barely audible in the background discussing about the 19C US war and the 17C English war, I caught myself daydreaming. With an open notebook at the top of my desk, unknowingly, I caught myself writing his name in a perfect scribble. Then, making things more ludicrous, I start to write my name with his surname. 

“I guess, Ms. Stone?” I don’t know where I am, but Mr Rickson’s voice brought me back to reality where I am to answer an unheard question by my history teacher.

“The Civil War, Ms. Stone?” he pressed on the topic. Everyone looked at me with answer-the-damn-question kind of stare. “Would you do the honor of enlightening us about these two very historical events?” he went on.

“Err…well…” unsure how to answer the ‘damn’ question, I hurtled to a short but shockingly concise speech. “19C U.S. war is the civil war fought in the United States from 1861 to 1865 between the North and the slave-owning states of the South. On the other hand, 17C English war is the civil war fought in England between the Royalist supporters of Charles I and the Parliamentarians led by Oliver Cromwell, between 1642 and 1648.” 

“Very well said Ms. Stone. Take your seat.” He finished and turned his back from me. I let out a sigh and take my seat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw everybody chuckling. I smiled back…awkwardly. What a relief, I just survived Mr. Rickson’s almost-impossible question. 

The bell rang moments later. I gathered my things and bag and, hurriedly, I dashed towards the library where our next class would be. It’s weird having our next class there but Mrs. Crooks, the English teacher, insisted.  

The library is the large square citadel standing just in front building C and over-towering building D. The library’s façade is a heavy metal vault with wooden double doors. The glass windows are propped open, ushering air for additional ventilations. The library housed almost 10,000 books that dated back from the civil war dates ‘till the present and contains topics like fictions, classics, general sciences, modern and old English, contemporary, etc. Read all you want, it’s all here.

As I entered and signed my name in the logbook, I make my way down the right wing towards the SPECIAL SECTION – this is the place where I would always like to be whenever I wanted to be alone. Our class starts at ten o’clock. I still have thirty minutes worth-earned time left before class starts.

No. Not here. Please. Let me just have some peace without you melting me.

I was just clearing the main study area and was passing through the tall elegant book stacks when my eyes fall at him. Earl. Suddenly, blood seems to pump fast in my veins and I feel my face heating up. 

He was facing the window, his back to me, leaning over a shelf that reads WORLD HISORY SECTION in white letters. The sleeves of his white polo were pushed up around his elbows, and his curly hair shines under the lights. His shoulders were hunched over. I tiptoed to get a better look of what he is doing. From where I stand, I couldn’t be certain though, but he looked like he was drawing something.

Should I go to him? Be friends? I thought. Then I heard it again, the little voice in my head speaking, you shouldn’t! After all, you don’t even know him, haven’t even really spoken to him. The little voice is right. I should fight the urge to go to him. Yet, something inside me coiled with the need to know what he is drawing. But before I could turn away, he rais his head, as though sensing he is not alone anymore.

Earl locked eyes with me. The frantic pounding in my chest seems to pound even more, so loud that it fills my ears blocking out every other sound around. He snap shut his drawing book and blocking away whatever it is he’s drawing. 

The heat inside me was growing stronger. I don’t know how it happened but I am close enough now with Earl. And once again, I caught his cool-gray eyes. He smelled like honey and vanilla. He is looking back at me. I don’t know what to do. Then, as if sensing the awkwardness, he broke the silence.

“Hey…what’re you doing here?” he asked. He’s putting his drawing book now inside his bag and looking at me solemnly. His full lips is set in a straight line and his gray eyes looks calm and still. He didn’t looked offended or perturbed; that’s good.

“I came to check out a book from World History Section,” I said barely audible for him to hear. More awkwardness. And right now, I just want to scream out of the library. I am standing next to the guy who give me butterflies everytime. 

Then, the scene this morning came playing like a videotape. Then it hit me. Does he know by now? He couldn’t have. It was just a mere coincidence that could happen to anyone. 

Just a coincidence.

“Oh…good luck with that then. There are dozens of books here. Without the proper title, you might get lost.” He said, a smile now crossing his lips. My favorite smile, I thought. He starts to snatch his drawing book back and opening it once again. He turned his back, then, starts to draw once more.

Why do I get the feeling that he is drawing me? Jeeez! That’s very impossible. Tongue-tied, I move towards the shelf to my left. I am not so sure if I am on the right shelf to look for the book, but I am intent of keeping a safe distance with Earl, just incase.

From the corner of my eye, I can see him sneaking peeks at me as I browse from dusty shelf to another. Then, I see it again, this time, he’s chuckling silently. Ready to have my revenge I inch closer towards him. his drawing still intriguesd me.

It’s not you! I remind myself. I know it’s inappropriate to assume, but what if?

Close with him now…just a few more steps…few more, then I heard an abrupt snap! He snap shut his drawing book. Then packs his things, dashes out of the room with a vague smile, he waved goodbye at me.

Dang it! Dang it! As if I hit the jackpot price in a lottery, my heart jumped wildly. He smiled at me twice this day! Waved goodbye at me just recently! What’s more, I saw a faint image of what he is drawing. A neck. A hair. Yes! He was drawing me for reasons I am yet to find out.

Mrs. Crooks’ class began and I am fueled with enough enthusiasm to answer her questions back. Unlike Mr. Rickson, Mrs. Crooks is a nice teacher. She would never rais questions whenever I am in a trance-like situation as how Mr. Rickson would quote. As if she understands what has happened to me. 

I spent most of the time day-dreaming. Earl was drawing me. Does he have a secret crush on me? Wait. That seemed impossible. He's dating Emily van Olsen. Were they? Who would compete with Emily van Olsen? But he was drawing me. I shifted my thoughts. What if it was not me? After all, what I saw where hints of a neck and long hair. That could be Emily he was drawing. My happy mood just sunk six feet below the ground. 

I made a mental note to ask Kim, my best friend, later on. She knows everything about school gossip. I have no doubt she might have caught up details on this matter, most especially. 

Later that noon, I took my lunch at the cafeteria. The weather is humid and the students are all enjoying their free time. At the far corner of the cafeteria, the Brainiacs were all absorbed in a discussion only their kind would understand. To my left, at an earshot, were the gossip girls twittering again about new gossips they always share. Then, something caught my attention. 

At the entrance of the cafeteria, were the Jockeys, and what is that? Are they having that monkey push-and-pull game, again? Then, it hit me. They are pushing somebody in towards the cafeteria. Whoever it was, I am still not sure. 

With his white polo, sleeves pushed up around his elbows and his Vonn Dutch bag, I recognize the person they are pushing in. 

Earl.

The door cracked open, and Earl stumbles in. Shell-shocked, he composed himself. It seemed that every eye in the hall darted towards Earl now. He brushed off dusts from his polo, picked his bag up, and turned his head as though in search for someone. Then he caught my eye, or I caught his? 

He started to walk forward, a faint and awkward smile crossing his lips his gray eyes…always calm and reassuring. I can sense he is nervous. Hell, I was nervous. I felt my heart racing and might go in cardiac arrest at any moment. I lowered my gaze. Seconds later, he was standing in front me. I push the bile down to my esophagus. I looked like a child playing with her food waiting for her mom to pick out the spoon out of her small mouth. Slowly, I lifted my gaze at him.

Silence.

Tik…tok…tik…tok…

Still eyeing each other, he broke the silence.

“Jenna,” he said, unsure how to proceed, he looked back at his friends poking through the glass doors of the cafeteria. They gestured their hands as though saying that to go on.

He gulped before continuing. “Jenna Stone,” then like a real prince from fairytales, he knelt down and handed me a bouquet of flowers. And to my surprise, he also handed me a framed pencil drawn sketch. A sketch of me under an oakwood tree staring blankly at my right and embracing my knees. It's beautiful. I wondered how he got this image of mine, but it’s beautiful.

Heart was pounding frantically, my hand to my chest while the other reaching for the flowers and touching Earl’s hand. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he finished.

This can’t be happening. This is just a dream.

However, deep down, the image from my dream play instantly. He’s wearing a white suit with black polo and a white necktie to complete the modern day prince-like look. I am with my long red-violet flowing gown. And we are dancing, chest to chest, hand in hand, we flaunt around the dance floor. The image is that of a prom night.

Then, with a flick, I snapped the image away and I am back to reality. Earl is still on his knees, waiting for my answer, his gray eyes almost watery. I wasn’t expecting this. I am under the impression that Earl would never do this to me, only in my dream.

But here I am, being asked by the person I barely know but to who I am very much in love. Suddenly, my response was drowned by the cheering, clapping, and shouting inside the cafeteria. Everyone seemed to have taken part in this special moment in my life. 

Butterfly seems to flutter everywhere.