Dear Ex-Girlfriend (Lesbian, Girlxg... - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Let me list down the things I loved about school. Absolutely nothing. Waking up early was supposed to be fun, but not anymore. The unjustified amount of homework was inhumane. And how could I forget about cliché's? They ran down the walls of the halls like blood from a serial killer movie.
That's what I thought yesterday. Today was a different story. I couldn't wait to get out of bed and go there.
Dad was still preparing in his room when I crept to the stairs. He was singing a song from The Carpenters, his all-time favorite. I whistled along as I went to the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the basket. He'd see the missing fruit and know that I was gone.
School was open early. The guard looked up from his post when I passed, took a sip of his coffee, and went back to reading his newspaper. Maybe he was used to seeing students at this time of the day.
I was feeling pretty positive about myself until I reached the lockers. There was a hiccup on my heartbeat as I saw who was waiting for me. I tried to play it cool for the sake of playing cool. I thought coming here early could make me avoid running into her. Until the inevitable that is.
"Morning," I said.
She didn't move to give way. Her hands were still folded against her chest, her fake-colored eyes assessing me. "Do you know what you've done?" she started.
Her mouth opened a fraction when I took her by the shoulders and swept her to the side. She was standing in front of my locker.
"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" I downplayed, as I rotated the lock. "There's an apple in my bag."
"Didn't you hear a word I said?" she snapped.
When I didn't answer, Genesis turned me around and pushed me to the door. She wasn't rough, but she wasn't exactly gentle either. She realized what she'd done and immediately let go. "The committee messaged me last night." Her lips curved down as she turned away. "They said I listed my name."
My hands fell limp, both of shock and guilt. "I did that," I confessed.
"I know. It doesn't take a genius to figure out."
"You don't have to attend," I reasoned. "You can say it's a mistake. I just wanted us to talk."
Her eyes were burning coals of fire as they focused on me. They were nothing like what I used to love. They were cold, foreign, and unreachable. "We have nothing to talk about, Destiny. I thought I'd made it clear the other day?"
She didn't give me a chance to defend my position. She simply left me with a stab wound, forced to listen to the echo of her footsteps as she walked away.
Who was this new person I was dealing with? Why was she so cruel?
Due to the unfortunate events of the morning, I didn't feel like joining any activity during the day. Spencer began to look worried when I didn't return his notes in class. He kept slipping me messages when the teacher was busy that my desk piled with ripped papers, crumpled scratches, and three rolls of bread. He'd given me his whole stash.
At lunchtime, I slipped to the bathroom before Spencer could catch up to me, and stayed there until the bell rang. The rest of the classes flew by like a tornado. I didn't care what they were for. I didn't look up once. If my life was a game, it was probably a Ouija board. I was basically dead to my best friend, what was happening to me were just cryptic messages of bullshit, and if a ghost was to send me a message, it would probably spell L.O.S.E.R on the board.
I wasn't off the hook when the last bell sounded. There was a message waiting on my cellphone, telling me to go to the third floor, west hall, room 3-C.
A teacher was talking when I got there. She was in the middle of discussing about the Welcoming Committee, and only paused to acknowledge the new arrival, aka me. "Take a seat anywhere," she said, then continued.
I ducked instinctively and went to one of the farthest chairs in the room. There were about twenty people there already. Gene wasn't one of them.
"I want it to be as lively as possible," the teacher went on. She was the type who used her hands to express herself, and right then her fingers were waving in the air like she was a fairy Godmother. "We're going to have a party. It will be a great way to meet the freshmen."
A girl in front raised her hand. "Where will we get the funds?" she asked.
"The student council from last year took care of that. It's one of the projects they did before graduation." The teacher went to her desk to retrieve a clipboard. She browsed the list and nodded to herself. "Fifty people signed up for the committee. That's more than enough to do what I have in mind." She tapped a finger on the paper. "When I call your name, come in front to know your assignment."
I waited for five minutes on my seat before my name was finally mentioned. Only three students remained in their chairs. Most of them have left the room to go to wherever the fairy Godmother sent them.
"Destiny Jones," the teacher murmured when I came forward. Her shirt was a mixture of orange, yellow, and green designs. My guess was she was in the creative department. "What can you say is your biggest strength?"
"Uhm. . . I'm good at popping bubble wrap. Does that count?"
A smile flitted on her lips. "They say the best artists are the crazy ones."
"Gee, thanks." I rubbed my neck. Was that a compliment, or did she just call me batshit?
She tapped the list with a pen while considering. "Go to room 3H. You'll find what you need there."
The room had been converted to an activity area. Chairs and tables have been moved to the side. Art materials were everywhere. There were no shortage of paintbrushes, scissors, pencils, paints, and papers. Several students were working on the floor with their own projects. We were the group assigned for the decorations.
Something hard bumped on my shoulder, throwing me off-balanced. I frowned as I steadied myself, and saw tall, rugged Kyle heading to the art supplies. Why did he have to be here?
"Your fault for getting in the way," he said.
I rubbed the sore spot on my shoulder and headed to the table. Fighting with someone like him was a waste of energy, especially since he was prone to throwing his fist out of the blue.
He'd collected papers and scissors when he looked at me again. His face wasn't friendly. It was irritated for something I never did. "Don't you think you're too basic to be here?" he asked.
Ugh. Did he really just say that? Why did I have to suffer from this?
There was always one in every school, I swear. In ours, the resident bully was Kyle Creston. Most people hated him, me included. But he was in the football team like Spencer and Brad, which gives him an automatic appeal to some women.
"Sorry we're not all handsome, great, and athletically inclined like you, Kyle."
"I can't accept your apology," he said.
I snatched a scissor and tucked it away before I shank him prison style. The day has completely turned against me. I wouldn't just stand there another second taking a second blow.
"Tough luck," I said, before going as far away from him as possible.
There was little to say and so much to do. I spread the bulletin board paper on the floor and began to work on the design. The teacher didn't say much about it, except for how she wanted to see colors and liveliness, so I drew an outline of Boy and Girl. They looked more like stickmen than anything.
Thirty minutes in, another person spread a bulletin board paper next to me. It could be because there was no more space left, or that I was in the farthest corner of the room where no one could bother me, but my heart skipped a beat when I saw that it was Genesis.
I couldn't concentrate the rest of the hour. She never talked to me once. She never acknowledged me or anyone else in the room. Her eyes were kept on the paper at all times, her paintbrush gliding on it like a dance.
The teacher came back when the time was up, bringing with her the clipboard. "We'll meet again tomorrow," she said. "Same time, same place. And do talk to each other while you're here. Seniors are allowed to have fun too."
Genesis was the first to leave after the announcement. She rolled her paper, took her brush, and left the room without a word.
Ester and Spencer knew of it by the next day. Why was I not surprised?
Ester looked displeased, but didn't scold me like usual. She had another test for one of her classes. She was too concentrated on studying to say anything.
Spencer, meanwhile, openly expressed his thoughts. He did it while throwing football on the air. He'd pitch it high on the sky over the phone lines, then try to predict where it would fall so he could dash and catch it.
He'd recently made his catch when he said, "She's different, you know. More sullen."
"Who are we talking about?" I said.
"Genesis." He tucked the football under his arm. "When Brad told me he was seeing her, I was so surprised, man. I didn't know how to react."
"How did they meet?"
"They lived in the same city," he explained. "They got in the same school, fell in love. . . I think they had to go long distance for a while when he came here."
Something didn't sit well in my stomach. I didn't know whether it was the long-distance thingy, or saying that Genesis fell in love. I should have known about it. She should have told me the details.
"Anyway, Brad said Genesis was too busy to talk to us. Mr. Morgan is hard to satisfy. I get it, but she could have made more effort."
My fingers tightened on the strap of my bag. "Did he say anything else about her?" I asked.
"Like what?"
I shrugged innocently. "She could have gotten in trouble or something."
Ester cleared her throat to say that she'd been listening. She scribbled something on her notebook and didn't look at us. "Genesis is performing well on her classes. She'd gotten perfect scores on all her quizzes, and her teachers are pleased with her. I don't think she's the type to stir trouble."
"Are we even related anymore?" Spencer said. He bumped the football on her head playfully. "Those are mad CIA skills, sis."
"It's not a skill at all," she said.
I chewed on my lips as we trudged to the school. That didn't explain why Genesis became distant.
The Welcoming Committee was scheduled to meet every other day after school. Each meeting, we were given an hour to do the designs, lay out the plan, and talk. Each meeting, Genesis would keep to herself. Each meeting, Kyle would find a way to bother me.
I ignored him most of the time. Kyle was like a pesky bee. Swat at him and he stings at you. Stay still and silent, and he moves on to another flower.
This afternoon wasn't different. I was getting the blue paint from the table when he stopped on my side and crossed his arms. "I'm going to use that," he said.
I took a ruler and marker, but still held on to the blue paint. "Get another one. I'm using it."
"Everything else is being used."
"So? Wait for them to finish."
He slammed his hand on the table. "I said, I need that blue paint."
My heart was yammering as I looked at him. Kyle wasn't in the football team for nothing. He was big and dumb, but so what? He was still big.
I checked behind me to see if anyone else had reacted the same way, but all of their heads were turned down. They were too afraid of Kyle, and Genesis was too caught up on her art to care.
I put the paint down and stepped back. "It's yours," I murmured. "Damn, why are you so stressed out?"
"Thank you," he said in a sarcastic tone as I went to my usual place.
"No problem, asshole," I muttered under my breath. Genesis still hadn't looked up. And to think that she used to hate Kyle too.
The hour dragged on longer than most days. My nose became immune to the scent of glue, paint, and clay. I tried to remedy the monstrosity of Boy and Girl, but each stroke of my pen made them more gruesome on the paper.
I glanced at Genesis' work and cringed. Hers was beautiful. She'd drawn the sunset in all its glory, with splashes of orange and reds that filtered the blue sky. It looked like it would leap out of the paper any moment. Mine was child's play compared to hers.
I felt worse after seeing it. It wasn't jealousy or inadequateness. It was the fact that I didn't know she'd learned to paint. She must have picked it up from the city when she was far from me.
Why was life like this? How could you know a person one moment, from her favorite songs, to the silly things that kept her awake at night, and know nothing about her the next? I didn't know who taught her to paint. I didn't know if she still liked the same foods. My heart was breaking that she'd probably share those thoughts, those secret wishes that only I was allowed to know, to other people. People like Brad.
I was the first to stand when the time was up. I rolled the paper I was working on, in a hurry to get out of there. My hands were clammy. My legs were weak. I had to be alone for a while. Somewhere I couldn't see her.
I was about to go on my way when a pest got on my path. A pest named Kyle. "You've been giving me a hard time, Destiny."
My brows raised in question. "I'm giving you a hard time? What about you?"
"You've gotten my paint. You took my favorite scissors," he accused.
"Oh please, Kyle." I rolled my eyes. "What kind of maniac would think that way?"
His mouth twisted. "A maniac, huh?"
I screamed when his hand reached out of nowhere and pinched my ass.
He must have yelled too. I wasn't too sure. But the next time I saw him, Kyle was on the floor, covering his face with his hands.
"Oh my God! Genesis, stop!"
People rushed to break them apart. Her fists continued to punch him.
I stood there dumbfounded, hands over my mouth, watching her lose control.