I am convinced that I had pissed someone off in my past life and is now paying for my wrong deeds. It seems that almost everything I do results in some type of failure. Take for instance me winning the international spelling competition in the seventh grade. I had spelt every word correctly and the crowd went absolutely crazy, I was the first person to ever win a spelling bee competition in our school district. Somehow on my way down the stage, I managed to trip over an eraser resulting in a broken trophy and a broken wrist. After that the screaming grew louder, most of it was coming from me.
Today is Monday and that meant waking up early. For the first time since the semester started, I arrived in history class early; only to find the class almost empty with no teacher in sight. As much as I love school, university life was not going well for me. I hate this place; I hate the smell of bitterness that lingers into the air and the cloud of depression that seems to hang over everyone head. For some reason, I found that almost everyone I knew hated this class. The professor, a short fat man with a sharp tongue and ruthless insults didn’t make it hard to dislike his class.
Glancing at the clock I see that our lecturer is fifteen minutes late, I squirm in my chair annoyed by the fact that I’m not doing anything of importance. Slowly I let my eyes drift over to his seat, he isn’t here yet.
For the last fourteen years, I’ve had a crush on him, I would do anything to catch his attention. To my dismay, he shows absolutely no interest in me. In fact, he only ever spoke one word to me. I still remember the first time I met him, he was a vision in those dark blue shorts and blue and red checkered shirt. He had a strange smile. It was something between a smile and a frown, but when he directed it towards me, I remember feeling a burning sensation in my checks before returning him a full-blown smile.
At the age of five, I fell in love with Stefano George, and with the limited intellect of a little girl of such age, I knew that he was the most beautiful being in the world. Okay, I may be exaggerating but he was beautiful.
It was as if time stopped when he approached me in the sandbox, I was choking on sand that I had somehow manage to swallow and he had whispered a soft hello before dashing to his group of friends that were giggling hysterically. Fourteen years later not much has changed except my development a major speech impediment. I’ve had some opportunities to speak to him, but I never did because of my speech problem. I hate having to start a conversation, so most people assume I’m rude or stuck up and doesn’t talk to me.
It is now 7:25 am and I feel like screaming. why isn’t anyone in this class? Sighing softly, I drum my fingers on the desk rolling my eyes at the annoyed looks I’m getting. People can get so aggressive over a simple sound. Smiling to myself I begin to drum harder against the desk, then I hear his voice in the corridor and the drumming cease immediately.
Avoiding the unamused looks of my classmates I slowly turn my head towards the entrance of the room and pretend to be writing. All the while, I am watching out of the corner of my eye for the moment until Stefano appears.
My heart begins to race at the sound of footsteps getting closer to the classroom, and I sit a little straighter. My excitement dies a little when I realize that the person approaching shoes is making a clicking sound. Stefano doesn’t wear clicking shoes. I smell her before she reaches me.
“Oh, you feeling good today, hair on point and you’re actually on time,” Carolina says dropping her books on the table with a bang.
“Cara, how are you this morning?” Carolina is my best friend and my only friend at Barrington University. We met when we were little and then again at University where we became great friends. She has put up with my attics and daydreams and is the only one who knows of my crush on Stefano. ’What are you up to now?
“Me?!” - Carolina exclaims placing her hands over her heart, “I know not of what you speak.” Carolina is referred to as a drama queen and a trickster, and she’s always plotting inside that tiny head of hers. At 4’5, Carolina is one of the tiniest girls I know. With her smooth ebony skin and shiny curls, Carolina managed to be one of the most well-known girls in Barrington University.
“We’re not skipping class today” I remind her, we had skipped the class two times already. When speaking with Cara I hardly stammer.
“Please, Mora, I know you aren’t going to skip class, you literally the best in the room” Carolina grumble. Noticing my not so discrete interest on the door she rolls her eyes and snort “You still like this boy?”
“Something like that” I mumble, and Carolina finally sit in the chair beside mine. “But I, I think, think I’m starting to get over him.” The downside of my speech impediment is that I always stumble over words when lying. He just does not know that I exist.
“Don’t you have a lot of classes together or something?” Carolina asks, “I only get to have two subjects together with you.”
I open my mouth to answer her but never gets a chance as during that exact moment I realize that Stefano is making his way to the History room which we are currently in. He looks absolutely stunning in his team’s jersey red with white letters. His long, curly black hair falls over his shoulders and his green eyes frame his perfect face. His Carmel skin shines with sweat and he towers over his friends. As usual, he does a quick scan of the classroom and before finding a seat.
Although we are studying two completely different majors, me English Literature and him engineering, we manage to share a whopping five classes together. I was genuinely surprised when I learned that he was majoring in engineering. I had assumed that since he was a football player, he would be majoring in some sport related subjects.
“So, he’s here” - Carolina’s voice cuts through my thoughts “try to be more subtle with it. You look like you’re about to jump his bones,” She shoots him a look of disgust and turns her attention to moisturizing her curls. She always carries around a spray bottle around and whenever she gets annoyed or bored, she sprays her hair.
“Carolina, put that bottle down” - Professor St Dicks shoes click hard against the floor as he enters the room. His tie is loose, and he looks like he went through a hurricane. A lone strand of spaghetti hangs from his hair and with the angry look in his face, I begin to laugh uncontrollably. It’s absolutely uncharacteristic of Mr. St. Dick to be late and untidy, the man breathes professionalism.
For some unexplained reason I can’t stop laughing, loud hard haw haw laughter, everyone’s now staring at me and I’m still at it. I really want to stop but I haven’t laughed in so long so I laugh until I can’t any longer.