Chapter 29
**Kapittel 29**
***Vanessa***
**"Uh... that's my..."** a shaky voice interrupted him from speaking.
I turned my head and looked up to see a male classmate standing behind us. He had a lanky figure that made his uniform appear loose and larger than him, or maybe his uniform was indeed larger than his size. He had a mop of orange hair, a pair of thick bushy eyebrows trickled with endless sweat, a lopsided smile, and shaking eyes. By the looks on his face, I could tell that he was nervous.
The three of us stared at each other for a brief moment until one of us spoke. "It's mine now, Sanders," Friso replied, crossed his arms, and raised his feet to rest them on the desk. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. A jerk doing a jerk move. "B...bu-" the guy was about to protect but the smirking bully cut his sentence short.
"No buts, nerd face. Find yourself another seat," Friso said, his tone mongering like he was utterly spiteful like he could almost spit on the other guy's face. Like how a typical bully would.
My heart broke when the Sanders guy's face became crestfallen. Earlier, he looked like he already knew that his seat wouldn't be given back, and was hoping for a positive light, but now he looked totally defeated. The expression on his face made my heart lurch and ache. With a sullen long face, he was about to turn away and did as he was told but I had no plans on having Friso go things his way.
"No." I protested and grabbed his wrist to stop him from walking away. "Give him back his seat," I demanded to the bully beside me, turning my head to face him with my eyes glaring daggers at his now irritated face. If I had to fight him with tooth and nail or even dirty so he could get his manners knocked back in his head then I willingly would.
"And if I won't?" his annoyed expression was gone and in a split second, his smug look came back.
"You don't mind getting embarrassed in front of 30 students, right?" I knew Friso. He hated being humiliated. When we were in middle school, I learned that he hated being put in the spotlight. He was allergic to the attention given out of blustered humiliation. It started during a skit and made a bad ad-lib after he forgot his lines which caused our classmates to laugh at him. He went absent for almost an entire week after what happened since the incident spread all over the school and it smeared his "cool" persona.
I glanced behind me and through my peripheral vision, I noticed that our classmates were looking at us inquisitively like we were characters in a drama series on afternoon television making a remarkable scenario. What timing.
"As if you could do that. Your sass mouth won't work here," he replied and grabbed a hold of my wrist that was holding Sanders' vest. "Now let him go. This seat is finally mine now," he ordered, his tone sounding overbearing at its low octave. "Quit talking shit and give him back his seat," I shot back through gritted teeth, glaring at him. It was my first time talking this way. Nikki and the others taught me about this since I looked like a pushover back when I transferred to my former school. High school life back in one of Washington's public schools wasn't easy and it was difficult to establish camaraderie with physical contact and words of praise so it was a challenge for me to make everyone an ally but I never resorted to shit talking. But I had no choice now since Friso was as stubborn as a mule, and he hated me. "Now," I added.
"You're seriously a defending a loser... against me?" he asked bewilderingly as if he couldn't believe what I was doing, and once again, his sardonic smirk went gone as a heated glare was born. "Let him go, Vanessa."
"Make me, de Vries," I retorted and our fight through our heated stares began. As the spark of lightning flickered between us, the air had become dense and the chatters of our classmates about me courting death passed my ears. But it didn't stop me from glowering at his stormy grey orbs that represented his tempestuous personality.
"All right, everyone. Buckle up for class!" a loud, deep voice suddenly boomed in the four corners of the classroom, making me stagger on my spot of surprise as a tall man with a protruding stomach walked into the classroom. Presumably, he was the instructor for this class. Though I couldn't see it, I could tell that he had an insane amount of positive energy and cool vibes compared to the instructors I encountered yesterday. Most of them appeared either brooding or posh, others were okay, but he was an exception.
My glaring contest with Friso was halted as I felt a force on my fingers tugging away. I looked away and realized that Sanders was pulling himself away from my grip. "Wa-"I was about to stop him but he caught free from my measly fingers and ran to find himself a seat at the furthest back. Gosh!
"Settle down, everyone and prepare your books while I do a roll call," the instructor said and began calling each and every student in the classroom, to which they immediately answered with enthusiasm. He would even ask them how they were feeling after proceeding to call another student. Looks like he was one of the fun teachers who could get along with the student well.
As he had instructed, I took out my book for his class and started flipping pages. Unfortunately, the guy beside me had no plans to follow class instructions and kept himself busy by staring at me. I could feel him burning holes in my face as sweat trickled down my neck. I didn't want to look back since we might end up in another glare contest and that'd cause a scene here. I didn't want to be called out by a teacher on my second day. "Young?"
"Here," a female classmate glumly answered. I looked over in her direction and saw that her back was slumped, her face was pale, and a frown colonized her face. She seemed upset.
"How're you feeling?" he asked, his eyes looking concerned.
"I feel ugly."
"Right, and I'm pregnant," he said and a peal of laughter erupted in the classroom, one of them was from Young. "What? I thought we were saying impossible things?" he asked with a chuckle before proceeding to call for the next classmate.
"Zamora," he called.
A girl immediately raised her hand. "Yessir!"
"How's your day starting, queen?" he asked with the same amicable smile he had been wearing since he came in.
"Fantastic, king!" she replied enthusiastically, and he chuckled again after writing on his clipboard that probably held the attendance sheet, before replying: "That's good. Proud that you're holding up..." he trailed off and popped a question, "But I gotta ask, what's the most common phrase used in school?"
The classroom was quiet for a while before Zamora answered cluelessly, "...I don't know?"
"Correct! Five points for House Zamora!" he exclaimed and everybody laughed again as he called for another classmate: "Zwie... Zwiev... Zwiefelhofer? Holy hotdogs, your name still serves like a tongue twister for me." "Here," a guy classmate answered nonchalantly.
"Anything happening lately?"
It took the Zwiefelhofer guy a while to answer, it seemed that he was thinking of a good response. "I stopped smoking cigs...?"
"Sure, and you're my dad" he immediately retorted and the class cracked up for the nth time. "But hey, if you're doing that, that's great. Keep that up," he said.
I glanced at Zwiefelhofer and noticed that his nonchalant expression was no longer there as his lips stretched a small smile. It seemed that he was happy for getting complimented. Of course, who wouldn't be happy when complimented? "Hathern? This is my first seeing this name on the class list, and on the last part too..." I heard him mention my last name and began mumbling to himself. "Hathern, Hathern, Hatheeeern... oh that's right! The transferee! Where's Vanessa Hathern?" he asked and I immediately raised my hand.
"You're Miss Vanessa Hathern?" he asked. I was about to stand up to say yes and prepare myself since he might call me for an introduction. "Oh no-" he raised a hand, motioning me to stop whatever I was about to do. Good thing I hadn't fully raised my butt off the seat yet. "No need to stand up, just remain on your seat," he said.
"Yes, sir. I am Vanessa Hathern," I answered.
"Ricardo Mosbey. A pleasure to meet you," he said before asking: "How was your day?"
"Fairly great."
"I can tell," the annoying asshole beside me suddenly interrupted our conversation, which surprised both the instructor and me.
"Friso?" Mr. Mosbey asked in bewilderment.
"Present... Mr. Mosbey," Friso immediately responded. He sounded like he didn't want to be here at all.
"What brings you here?" the optimistic teacher said while scribbling on the clipboard again and leaning his back on the chalkboard. "Because I don't recall my class being called Sex Education."
"What do you mean by that, Mr. Mosbey?" Friso asked cluelessly, his eyes widening them to appear like an innocent child being grounded due to unfair reasons.
"You don't belong in this class, champ." Now, Mr. Mosbey was no longer cheerful with the nonchalance tone sounded with his statement, and his smile was gone. Contrary to his mood, the room erupted with much mirth as a few giggles were procured by several classmates. Now Friso's in the friggin' spotlight, one of the unlikely things he wanted to be in.
"I do now."
**
Thank you for reading Bubble Gum Kisses! To keep up with my works, future works, and endless frustrations on Twitter: https://twitter.org/RiosMorpheus**