Chapter Twenty-Four : Witch Booth
"You won't curse me, right?" the girl looks at me wearily, her eyes only straining at my temple while her lips trembled.
I may not curse people, but I sure can curse like a sailor with how you're annoying me right now. I swear, am I Tom's representative? Why does every girl who likes him, go to me? And to think these were the idiots who were afraid of me.
"So uhm, can you like, hook me up with Tom?" the blonde-haired girl mutters, eyeing me with a flirty look as she twists her locks of hair.
Wow, the way she just switched into a different persona impresses me. Do they have a Guinness record for this? I seriously cannot believe that this is happening to me right now.
"He's sooooo my type!" she squeals with enthusiasm. "---like he's gentle and kind, yet there's that bad boy side to him—it's sexy."
I internally cringed, staring at the horny blonde as she kept rambling about how great Tom was or how she wanted to do stuff to him. Is it me or are some teenage girls savages with hormones skyrocketing? I feel like my soul is starting to wither from the comments they make about Tom.
Help me, someone. SOS.
I cough, trying to calm myself down from puking and shivering from all the things she just admitted to me like when a serial killer confesses their deeds.
I know, I'm acting like a drama queen. But come on, this is seriously so cringe.
In the end, I had no choice but to say it, not only for my own good, but for his mental state as well. "Sorry, he's gay."
"So you told her I'm gay?" he looks at me in disbelief, a wry smile tugging his lips. I don't know if I should be happy that I pissed Tom off, but truth be told, I was. If only I had my phone with me, I might've taken a picture of his face as a commemorative.
I shrug, taking a bite of the meat bun Emily gave me during recess. "She wasn't taking no for an answer, so I just told her that."
"Shouldn't you be happy?" I nonchalantly added. "—they'll finally stop pestering you. I swear if I was you, I'd be traumatized by how they describe you."
"I'm hurt," he pretends to sound and look hurt, clutching to his chest as he pouts like the drama queen he is. "---you need to soothe my ego, Avery."
"I don't care," I reply, caring less as I stare at him dully. "—it's your fault girls are swarming on you and they're disturbing me. The audacity of them to just come up and talk to me shamelessly."
"And it's disgusting. She said she wanted you to have her babies! Ugh, that just makes me shiver," I scrunch my nose in disgust, remembering all the things she said with lust gazed over her.
"Couldn't you just have told her that I have a girlfriend or something?" he whines, still hung up of being called gay. I mean he is gay, gay in the sense that he's jolly and vibrant.
"You expect me to say that?" I cock an eyebrow. "—and who would be this 'imaginary girlfriend' of yours?" I reply, quote-on-quote.
He sheepishly smiles at me. "I could ask you to play pretend and then you'll eventually confess your unwavering feelings to me."
I snort, throwing the bun wrapper in his face. He holds the wrapper and clenches it on his palm. "I swear you're such a hopeless romantic. And you're tipsy, aren't you?"
He blinks, a grin apparent on his lips. "I'm not tipsy."
I look at him, skeptical. "Right."
He whines, flinging his arms to his sides as he caved in. "Maybe. My parents were having guests and I just took a teensy sip of the wine."
"You mean a glass?" I raise a brow.
"Exactly!" he chuckles, flashing me his toothy grin.
"You're hopeless," I sought in disbelief as he only smiles at me. "—who gets drunk because of wine anyway?"
. . .
"The festival is a month from now, so we have to plan and prepare as much as we can," a girl who I couldn't care less, spoke in front, and held a marker in her dominant hand.
"So for today's plan, let's decide what our stall will be," she chimes in and scribbles on the board, letting an unpleasant screech with the marker's tip.
I blew a breath, staring at the windows in hindsight as I block out everything that is currently happening.
I am never going to join them. I hate getting involved with people—plus they're better off if I'm not present anyway. I mean I could just lounge to the different stalls and stuff myself. No one would ever notice that I disappeared.
"Erm.....A-avery?"
I spun my head too quickly, making me feel disoriented for a split second before I blinked. My breath gets caught in a hitch when I see everyone staring intensely at me and I didn't know why.
What happened anyway? Why are the staring at me?
My eyes travel to the girl who was speaking a while ago and she clears her throat, eyeing me wearily as if I was going to pull her eyelids out. "Do you...uhm, agree to this?"
"What?" I mutter, feeling too breathless from countless of piercing gazes darting at me.
The girl warily starts, fidgeting with her fingers like I would kill her if she said something offensive. "Emily...uh, suggested that we hold a witch booth."
My eyes trail back to Emily in a death glare, but she already thought of that beforehand and instead glanced up front, pretending to not notice my glare. Tch. This girl--
"I----"
Emily stands up from her seat and everyone's eyes dart to her. Her voice wavers for a slight second. "This is a good idea. I mean we can make Avery be a consultant to people and a lot of people will be interested—knowing that people will think she has psychic powers."
"And maybe we can add Tom," she says boldly. "---besides Avery consulting people...people uh, will bid and the one who wins gets to have a date with Tom!"
I wanted to go over to her and slap her. She wasn't making sense and making me a consultant? I don't even have cursing powers and I know that's what most people are expecting from me. Isn't that considered fraud?
I stole a discreet glance at Tom who had a faint smile on his lips. He opens his mouth and slips the words casually like he wasn't fretting over it. "Sure. If we do the Witch Booth."
My mouth flings open as I stare at him for answers. I had never felt this betrayed before, and to think I expected him to side with me. What the hell is he thinking? I wanted to scream and bash his head on concrete but he just smiles at me and opens his mouth. "It's for a good cause."
A good cause? What darn good cause?!
I huff, my stomach churning in my anger as my head starts to throb from all these shenanigans. Darn it. Me? Consultant? I can't even make friends all by myself and they expect me to give advice to other people? What kind of sick, demented joke is that?
I open my mouth to voice out my protest, but it deemed itself futile when suddenly the entire classroom erupted in squeals and shrieks, drowning every other noise.
"I'm so gonna win that date!"
"I gotta save up!"
"I should buy some new dress!"
I roll my eyes, blowing out a breath. Tom....is a ladies magnet. And them hearing about the date, was enough to let their panties go loose.
If I voice out any sort of protest now, people are going to shun and berate me—forcing me to accept. So, with no other option---I shrug and oblige in submission since it is too tiring to fight with people who were too much of a hassle.
"I also have another idea," the girl up front suggests, earning every one's attention in a split second. "—while we're doing the bidding and the booth—we could also be a cafe and serve people while they wait!"
"This will make our profit twice---no, tenth-fold higher," she grins, clasping both of her hands like a money obsessed freak. "---not only is Avery a popular figure—"
I sneer at that comment. Popular? At what? Being a witch? "—but so is Tom. We'll make lots and lots of profit!"
And it was decided. Just like that, I became the witch of Class Two again—but for a different cause. A cause that involves money and crazed women who'd be out to kill me if I declined.
. . .
"Avery," he calls my name for the fifth time, but I ignored him and kept on walking, keeping a far distance between us like he had contracted a sickness that was so grave.
"Why are you so angry?"
I halt on my steps, then I clutch on the straps of my bag and turn my heel, looking at him in fury—no, anger. Do I even need to explain why? He has a brain, doesn't he?
"Angry? I'm not angry," I say sarcastically, chuckling in frustration.
"You are angry," he frowns at me, eyebrows knotting in confusion.
"For Pete's sake! Of course, I'm mad right now!" I screech, my voice booming on the other side whilst a man who was walking casually, stopped, and stared before continuing.
"I did not ask for this!" I fume, my face turning red from exasperation. "—stop making decisions for me! I'm not some kid you need to look out for!"
"But Avery, I have a good reason," he tries to reason out, explaining with his hands frantically. "—and Emily too."
"Whatever," I grimace, scowling at him. "— I don't want to talk to you right now."
I turned my back against him and started walking, when he clutches on my wrist and turns me around. I attempt to pry his hands off mine, but he holds it too tightly—locking me in a grip.
"I hate you right now!" I scream, my facing turning beet red and in my best efforts, try to remove his hand from mine as I struggle. "—let me go!"
"I just wanted you to get...out there," he replies, sounding distant as he squeezes my wrist. "—with this opportunity, you can get to know other people....and maybe even make friends."
"I don't need friends," I glower, staring at the cemented side walk. "—why don't you see that? Why are you forcing me into something I don't want to do?"
"Avery, listen jus---"
"Are you really hearing yourself right now?" I scoff in disbelief, eyeing him in dismay. "—you want me to make friends with people who made my life miserable? Is that what you're trying to do?"
I chuckle bitterly. "And I thought you understood me...guess I was wrong."
"No!" he raises his tone. "—I.... just wanted people to see that you're more than that; that they'll see what I see in you."
"And what exactly do you see in me?" I narrow my eyes at him. "—a grumpy girl who's ruthless?"
"I don't need that," I seethe. "—I told you that I don't need friends. You're just being selfish, Tom."
"But we're friends, right?" he stares at me. "---at first, all you did was blatantly hate me. But at this point, you're warming up to me. If you can do that, then you can do it to other people too."
The hold on my hand loosens and I take that initiative to take my hand back, flinging it to my sides. "Avery, I want you to mingle with other people. Not just me, Lance or Emily. I want you to open up and stop being so close-minded."
"They're just stupid, okay?" he says tiredly, running a hand through his ruffled hair. "---that's why you show to them how stupid they are, and that you are much—much better than what they project you to be."
"I'm not some superhero where I'll always be there by your side," he mutters with sincerity. "—so that's why you should take this opportunity to meet other people. The world isn't as small as you think it is, Avery."
"You're so annoying," my voice falters, suppressing these whirling emotions I'm feeling right now. "---you can't change people. I know that."
"But you changed."
"And so, can they," he steps forward until he was a few inches from me. He places his hands on my shoulder and squeezes it gently. "—so, give them a shot. Just like how you gave me a shot."
"Show them wrong," he whispers the last one. "—okay?"
I close my eyes, feeling so many emotions whirling inside me as I try to tame them down. I hate this guy right now. How he always says the right things I want to hear or convinces me to do something stupid and ugly. How he's saying it with so much sincerity it makes me feel guilty.
When did I warm up to him? And just how much, because I don't think I can say no right now. Even though I want to disagree, to protest at him, but I just can't...because he's right.
Just how important is he to me right now? To the point I'm willing to re-consider it.
"Mm," I grumble, not peering an eye open.
"Alright," he whispers. "—thanks for listening, Avery."
"I hate you right now," I confess, uncurling my clenched fists.
"I know."