Forget- Me- Not

“Carrie, are you all right?” Ally asked worriedly as she waved a hand in front of my face. I gazed at her, not responding, and quietly looked next to the beef steak on my plate as I forked it.

The steak served to be a rather dashing company than the people around me who were connoisseurs at making and breaking promises.

“If you’re mad at me for skipping fourth period,” she explained, “It was because Coach Finnegan kidnapped us to practice for Saturday’s game.” I rolled my eyes, and she sighed. “Now what, do you have an eye problem?”

I didn’t reply and continued eating. Anger heated up her cheeks. Then she glowered and looked away, pissed. She turned to Kate Wilson and Lisa McKinley to chat- one of the many ways she does to infuriate me. Indeed, what a lovely way.

She knows how I hated hearing their infantile and futile conversation.

But I ignored her and plopped the last steak on my mouth as my teeth shredded it into pieces. I swallowed it down to my stomach for it to be digested later. Disgusting? Not.

I just prefer talking to myself about the pertinent process of absorption in science rather than to listen to any of the pointless discussion about the hotness of boys, trendy clothes, and ten ways to tell who’s popular or not. I mean, seriously? I talk of those things once in a while as well, but never constantly. What’s so important in knowing Ten Ways to Tell whose Popular or Not?

That was too racist. Terrorist, even, if viewed in a wider speculation.

I swear I could only hear sentences like: “Totally awesome. I also have that cute pink thingy from somewhere in Europe” from Kate. And then Lisa would squeak as she responded, “Ooooh! That is so pizzazz. And did you see the new guy? He is so hot. Hot as in supermegafoxyhot.” There goes Ally’s antics asking, “Oh yeah. What’s his name again?”

Suddenly, the other cheerleaders in our table shrieked and shouted, making the table erupt in chaos, “OMG!!! That’s him! He’s coming to our table!!!” Ally, Kate, and Lisa turned their heads in their direction and saw that they were looking, screaming, and drooling at the "supermegafoxyhot" guy, in that order. They gaped, mouths open; but I didn’t bother-- nor was I tempted-- to glance, for I was busy gulping my soda.

Then Kate, with all of the fairness of a cheerleader screamed at the top of her lungs, “OMG! OMG! OMG!!!! Okay, I so know his name now.”

Ally and Lisa turned, intrigued and surprised at the abruptness of Kate’s bounciness. Then again, Kate Pink- Thingy- From- Somewhere- In- Europe Wilson was always bouncy.

“What’s his name?” Ally asked yet again.

“Tadashi Kawano!!!” Kate answered with a squeal and smiled widely. “Isn’t he such a cutie?”

I nearly choked over the can of Royal Orange I was drinking when she said this. It was a good thing Ally overcame her over- sensitiveness to help save my life from endangerment by tapping by my back. She never can stay mad at me for long, and I can never either. We’re like that kind of friends. We’re solid.

“Whoa, Carrie, chill,” she consoled me as I slowly recovered from my near- to- death experience. When I’ve finally recuperated, I drew three long shallow breaths. After that, Ally asked yet again, “Are you okay now?”
I gazed at her, and this time, I smiled. I owe it to her. I had not the face to roll my eyes for the second time. Cheerleader and over-sensitiveness aside, she’s still my best friend.

“Yeah, thanks,” I answered, “a lot.”

She grinned back, and replied, “You’re welcome.” Then she turned back to Kate, who was dramatically sighing longingly at the sight of Someone-I-Would-Never-Consider-Cute.
I refused to look up when Tadashi came to the table where I was eating with cheerleaders (even though I am not a cheerleader). I pretended to read James Patterson’s Maximum Ride: Max when he smirked at the girls who were mentally and ironically salivating for him.

“Carrie,” The- Person- I- Despise-The- Most called.

And he said my name. It was then I couldn’t incline myself not to stare up at him when I heard his thick Spanish accent anymore. Blame me, but I can’t fight his mesmerizing tone of voice. Since when did I find Spanish drawl irresistible? Cheerleaders glared at me while Ally cocked an eye brow suspiciously.

I shrugged in response at her preempted question, and turned to fix my eyes on the one who called me. “What?”

His lips curled up into a smile, and he answered my question. “Mrs. Schmidt says you have to give me a tour around the school.” Then he paused to smirk, and all the girls around us were shooting me daggers already-especially Kate. But of course, except for Ally.
“Would you mind?” He continued his accent thick and heavy.

I gazed at him and pouted. I know I’ll have to answer yes, but I couldn’t. Majority of the feminine species were throwing me killer looks and were waiting the chance to seize him.
With bated breath, all the females looked at me fiercely, waiting to draw their claws if I answered yes. Tadashi just grinned, putting his right hand on the table and his left in his pocket as if he had all the time in the world to pass the time for my decision.

I couldn’t answer at first because of the pressure that was all in there. All the tables in the front, middle, and back were watching ours. Suddenly, somebody kicked me in the shin. I bit my lip to prevent myself from saying “ouch,” and looked at Ally. She smiled slyly, and was silently telling me to say yes.

I frowned at her, and sent her a telepathic message to take care of me if the girls ever jumped. She gave me an imperceptible nod, and I smiled slightly. Then, I glared at Tadashi. He met my fleeting look with a smile. He seems to have figured out what I was going to do.
I carefully took my things as Ally distractingly shouted, “Hey look!! Isn’t that Michael Ranford??” All the cheerleaders broke their defiant stare at me to gaze to where she was pointing at. Truth be told, Michael Ranford, son of the school’s founder and star of the football team, was actually there.

Screams were hollered at our table. I took that as a chance to escape and get Tadashi. I grabbed one of his arms and dragged him with me as I sped away from the cafeteria.
I was so busy running and getting away from the miscreant cheerleaders that I barely noticed the warmth of Tadashi’s hand as he slipped mine into his.

When I was sure the coast was clear, I stopped and heaved up a sigh. I dropped my free hand onto my knee to pant. Tadashi patted me in the back, and asked, “Are you okay, Carrie?”

I nodded, but grasped for air to relax. My lungs and feet are aching. Darn it. I shouldn’t have run for, like, five miles. And wait, hadn’t he got tired of running?

“Too much build up of lactic acid, I assume,” stated Tadashi matter-of-factly.

I stared at him bewilderingly, despite of the dizziness I’ve been feeling.

“What?” I asked. This guy is totally book-smart.

“You ran, and due to extreme exhaustion, you ache all over,” he answered.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Lactic acid,” he said.

“Oh, right,” I say back, now fully understanding, “the process of respiration, is it?”

“Yes,” he smiled widely. There was light in his eyes that made me stop and stare at him.

There was something about it that made me feel calm and serene: its warmth. It reminded me of tranquil ancient trees and lazy summer afternoons. It seemed gentle and lucid, but I did not wish to be daydreaming so early; so, I shrugged these unbidden emotions away and simply nodded.

Then that’s when I felt my sweaty palm—I mean, hand—still holding onto his. I was about to withdrew it, but before I could even have a chance to do so, Tadashi grabbed my other hand to pull me up. As it was something I hadn’t even a second to prognosticate, my arms accidentally flew around his neck.

It turns out that I wasn’t the only one who was surprised.

You see, the first bell started ringing and people were already fighting their way to get to their next class. They flocked against us, and the abominable result? Not such a good one.

I was trapped in an embrace I never ever wanted. The problem was I liked it. I liked the feeling of it. He smelled so sweet and strong and manly and all things forbidden! It was the fragrance of sweet wild flowers in a high plateau. I felt like I didn’t want to let go—now, that’s how sick I am—and the loud pounding of my heart was literally hurting my chest and blood heated up my cheeks.

Forget I said that.

The clock ticking on the wall seemed to stop in a jiffy like everything around us was frozen. I could only stare at him, and wonder how such detestable thing could ever happen to me.

We both realized that we had been standing there in sojourn when the second bell rang and signaled my freedom from this unwanted unexpected unintentional experience.

I drew my arms away from him, and he did the same too… thankfully. He looked away and straightened himself up to apologize. I folded my arms so that I could hide my embarrassment, and told him, “It’s all right. Just…please don’t do that again.”

I had to avert my eyes to conceal my emotions. I was blushing mad at such a horrid day. As if a horrid day wasn’t enough to describe such emotions.

He glanced and then stared at me for awhile. I couldn’t look back at him. I felt shy and weak and embarrassed! Then he faced the hallway and gestured for me to lead him.

I gazed ahead and escorted him to the gym. The path to our next class was spent in silence. Only the voice of a teacher preparing science lab activities and equipments could be heard.
I’m grateful that he kept quiet during the tour; because if he ever tried to say something, I’m afraid… that I’ll do something extemporaneous or nothing I planned will happen.

School passed and ended as the clock ticked away, murmuring the diurnal song I’ve been hearing almost every week day. I made my way to the hall quickly because I needed to go home. I didn’t say goodbye to Ally in person, so I just texted a message.

The reason for my hasty need for departure was because I have to refresh my brain. It was loaded with tons and tons of new information that required memorization and application. Also, I want to relieve my mind of the happenings today.

My phone vibrated, and Mozart’s KV 114 blasted through the speakers as I took it from my bag. I flipped it open without reading who was calling because I knew who it was and answered it. “Yes?”

“Carrie,” Philemon’s voice boomed with authority even on the phone. “I won’t be able to pick you up at the school ‘cause I’ll have to go around, so get James and meet me at Starbucks. Is that all right?”

“Okay. I got it. But why do you have to turn around?” I replied.

“There’s been an accident. Two cars crashed because the other was breaking the speed limits. It hit the one turning right, and they caused traffic and ruckus, so the police barricaded that area. And that area is near our building.”

I nodded, and then remembered I was talking on the phone. So I replied, “I see. Accidents are frequenting these days. That’s abominable. Okay. Bye.”

“Yes. Bye!” Phil answered back, then added, “And don’t forget what I told you!”

“Okay, okay. Get James, then go to Starbucks and meet you there. Did I get it right?” I said.

“Excellent. Bye now.” He said.

“Bye,” I concluded, and flipped the phone shut.

The first thing I did after the phone call was to try my best to reach him by phone. But all I received was recordings and a bunch of his pick- up lines. Geez, as if “are your legs not tired from running? ‘Cause you sure kept running around in my mind” would hook any sensible girl to him. Well, at least, not in my knowledge. My brother did have his ways with girls.

The second next thing I did after was go and look for James as Phil had instructed. If he’s not a) in the parking area with his friends, then he’s either b) in the field for their football practice, or c) in the cafeteria gorging snacks. I searched James in the cafeteria primarily as it is the nearest place to where I am standing—at the lobby of our school.

I tried seeking James in the caf, but he was nowhere to be found. So, that still left me two choices: a) the lively notorious field of aerobics, and b) the suffocating parking area. I chose the field, although I don’t like it much there. The cars’ rustic air would probably choke me to death.

However great I detest the area where skirts jump and balls fly, I have to go and search for my little brother because he is a football player.

So out I went to find my brethren.

Finding your brother fighting in a war where blood and gore are spilled to save a delicate golden crown for the love of the ladies and admiration from the king is not really a wonderful sight to see. In the bleachers, cheerleaders were screaming in the top of their voices, singing their cheer song. I nearly lost my balance when a freshman ran over to the field. He didn’t even care to see if I was all right or whatever.

Well, that was fine by me. Not.

When I managed to get through the wave of people, I went to take a seat and watch over the field. I didn’t have binoculars, but you see I do have an eagle’s eyes, and I remember he wore his red Polo t- shirt and black skinny jeans. Except that it didn’t help much in my search.

And my brother has... chestnut brown hair and the same lucid brown eyes and fair skin.
Nope. That didn’t help me either.

I looked at the field and saw a freaking lot of guys wearing the same freaking blasted damned thing! I could see them sporting the same brown hair and brown eyes! Ah! Clones of my brother James!!

Of course, girls paraded here and there. I spotted only a few blondes with blue eyes who looked like some celebrity I didn’t really like much, but for others they would be hot. Some had emerald green eyes as I have, pale grey eyes, and violets—they must be wearing contact lenses. There were fair- skinned people, tanned, brown, and for some, black. But let’s not be racist.

I just couldn’t find James!!!

There’s still option B for the parking area, but no. He’s not there.

He’s here. I know it. I could smell his cologne from miles away. I just needed to find the right guy with the right smell, face, and clothes as my brother has.

Suddenly, my eyes flickered across a bench west from my side. And. I. Saw. My. Brother. With. Freaking. Sun. Glasses. Why haven’t I thought of that? Only few brave people wore sun glasses.

One of them was James, my little brother.

But wait. There’s a girl. And one of his arms lazily surrounded her.

They looked, well, cozy.

Hmph. Cozy, my foot.

I stood and marched my way over there.

But I stopped abruptly when I was just fifteen arms away.

This could be used as evidence.

A mischievous smile crept up my face as I slowly took my phone from my pocket, and to save face, I wisely turned off my flash. I captured the “sweet” moment and ran until I found my seat miles, miles, and miles away.

When I was sure he didn’t suspect anything, I called his phone and pretended to not look at his bench. His free arm and hand took his phone and answered it. The girl moved and frowned.

“Sup? Who’s this?” James asked.

“Sup, li’l bro, time to fetch ‘ya home,” I replied. “It’s Carrie, man.”

His eye brow shot up, and he looked around.

“Okay, big sis,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Just meet me in the lobby. We’re going to Starbucks,” I answered.

“Why do we need to go to Starbucks?” He asked.

“Phil can’t fetch us here,” I said.

“Oh okay. See ‘ya,” he said.

“Soon,” I bid.

Then I flipped my phone shut. I saw my brother kiss the forehead of the blonde girl. I saw her smile and looked a bit irritated as he went away.

I quickly made my way to the lobby.