Hello,
I just discovered this new feature (yeah, I’m quite slow) on wordpress called typekit fonts, which, obviously, allows me to change the fonts on the website.
So the webbie’s sorta currently under construction. Please bear with me while I straighten some things out (like font size, for instance. It’s horrible. I need to manually adjust the font sizes for each post. *Vomits blood*).
So yeah, if you spot any inconsistencies – which is highly likely – please bear with it for the moment.
-Jekloneo
It’s been too long… Anyway.
-
I approached the table as my brother waved at Sharron and left hurriedly, and couldn’t help but notice that his face was flushed pink. Was that because of the looks my fellow AParters were shooting him? Or the fact that I witnessed his exchange with Sharron?
As I placed my tray on the table, Erica sighed happily beside my elbow. She propped her chin on her hand, gazing contentedly at Sharron and my brother’s retreating back.
“They’re such a wonderful pair of lovebirds,” she commented, staring at me pointedly.
I shrugged as I sat down beside her. I hoped her devious mind wasn’t churning up something that would make Mrs Kendrew ask me more embarrassing questions. If Ma happened to be around when she did it again…
“I’m so happy for you, Sharron,” Erica gushed.
Sitting directly opposite her, Sharron blushed prettily. Her eyes darted between Erica and Wayne. “I’m happy for you too.”
“Oh? You noticed? I thought we were being discreet.” Erica grinned at Wayne. He smiled in return.
I fought the temptation to snort.
Lynn rolled her eyes. “No offense, but if you were discreet… pigs would fly.”
Erica grimaced. “Fine. Maybe we weren’t then.”
“You weren’t; he was.” Casey remarked.
Wayne laughed. Erica mock-glared at him. In response, he smiled sweetly back at her.
I blinked and fought the overwhelming temptation to cough and excuse myself from the table.
“So,” Erica said after she’d finished talking with Wayne, “When are you officially going to start going out with Chris?”
Ah, Chris. I still didn’t know what to make of that day in the dojo, not the mention those questions in the car.
“Um.” I closed my eyes to gather my wits. Why hadn’t I chosen to sit alone on the first day of school? I continued chewing a piece of broccoli for as long as I could, acting as if nothing had happened. Oh, great. Why was this conversation taking place in front of so many people? No, why was this even happening in the first place?
“Well?” Erica asked five seconds later.
“What makes you think that…”
“Oh, please,” Eleanor huffed.
“We know all about it.” Erica grinned evilly at me.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, it’s sort of obvious.” Casey shrugged.
“What’s sort of obvious?” Chris slid gracefully into his seat.
I winced. What horrible timing he had. I stared resolutely at my broccoli, willing Erica to keep her mouth shut.
“Oh, that.” Erica smirked at me. “Well…”
I kicked her leg under the table.
“That hurt!” She scowled at me.
I bit my lip. “Sorry.” Oops. Did I kick too hard?
Chris looked on with amusement. Then he caught my expression and frowned. “While you’re making up your mind…” He turned to Wayne and struck up a conversation about baseball.
Erica frowned at me slightly. Then she brightened. Smiling, she said in Chinese, “See? He understands you so perfectly! You should just start going out with him right away. Like, sit on his lap and kiss him right now!”
“… What?” Wayne choked out, glancing at Erica in shock. Then he looked sheepishly at everyone at the table, who were staring back at him with various degrees of curiosity. Erica smiled sweetly at him. I realised with a horrible pang that Wayne took AP Chinese.
“Out with it, darling,” she cajoled.
Wayne looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a Rolls Royce travelling at top speed. Then he unfroze, saying, “Well, you know exactly why I said that.”
“Yeah, I do.” Erica looked at me, pursing her lips. Then looking positively delighted, she told the table, “We were just talking about something boys really shouldn’t be listening to. So sorry about that, Wayne. I’ll finish this conversation somewhere more private.”
With that, she dragged me out of earshot of the table. I didn’t know whether to feel relief or despair. Erica frowned at me as we entered the deserted corridor.
“Katherine,” one of my closest friends began, “Would you recognise love if it was staring at you in the face? No. And even if you did happen to recognise it, would you spurn it? Yes.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a hand. “Look, Chris likes you. Scrap that. He loves you.” I started slightly at her complete confidence. Gosh. She was serious about what she was saying. Gritting my teeth, I tried to salvage the rapidly deteriorating situation.”But…”
Smiling triumphantly, she continued, “And you like him. I’m not blind, you know. But the thing is – you’re keeping yourself walled in, and Chris doesn’t know how to breach your defences.”
I gazed at her as levelly as I could, trying – and failing – to keep incredulity out of my expression. How did she manage to use army terminology when talking about relationships and still not sound silly? And, of greater pertinence: why was I even having this conversation?
“But why would I…”
She practically seethed with frustration then. Her enormous eyes flashed as she took a deep calming breath. “Let me tell you something. I will not willingly stand aside and let this potential relationship go to waste. You could be such lovebirds like your brother and Sharron. And don’t tell me your parents won’t like it. They don’t seem to be disapproving of-”
“That’s because they don’t know…”
“Well, keep it that way then.”
“But…”
Erica sighed. “I’m going to get mum to change your mother’s mind.”
“Was that how you got Mrs Kendrew to ask me those questions?” I held my arms against my body tightly, taking care not to lose control lest I strike out at unsuspecting persons or objects in frustration.
“Yep. And I’m going to work on you too.” She grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Thought it would work better, though.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Work better?” I uttered faintly.
This was not going to be a good Christmas break.
*
“Oh my gosh. You actually know how to sew?” Anne stood in the open doorway, gaping at me. I stared at her. She had a paintbrush loaded with grey paint stuck behind her ear, and in her right hand, she held another paintbrush, unused.
“Um, apparently.”
“Apparently?” Lynn came over, an eyebrow raised. “She knows how to sew, all right. Her stitches are like, neat.”
I arched an eyebrow in reply. Neat? My stitches? I almost wanted to laugh at the unintended reference to my injuries.
“What?” Lynn demanded, looking at my expression quizzically.
“Shouldn’t you be adding the finishing touches to the dress?” I motioned to the semi-finished gown at the corner of the room.
“Oh, yeah, right. I should…”
A gust of cold air pervaded the room as a black figure hurtled past the door. “Twenty more minutes!” It hollered down the corridor.
Alarmed, Lynn turned back to the mannequin beside her and started pinning ribbons on the dress.
Following her example, I began to work on the cuff of the main lead’s dress.
“Mon dieu! You know how to embroider?” Anne exclaimed.
The dark figure poked his head through the doorway. “MARTIN? Get back to painting your tombstone!”
Turning slowly, Anne drawled, “I’ve finished it, Grim Reaper.”
“Oh ho? Who are you to call me by my name?” He answered, lowering his hooded head. His eyes glinted under the dark cloth.
Anne rolled her eyes. “Hath not the grim reaper cause to return to his station?”
“No, ma’am. The grim reaper hath not.” With a swish of the black cloak from the set, Mr Grimm left the room to scout for easier pickings.
As the sound of his footsteps receded from the room, Lynn raised an eyebrow at Anne. Shrugging, the latter began, “I had to say that, or he wouldn’t have…”
“ARGH! Do you have any scissors in here?” Eleanor flung herself at the doorway frantically and swept the messy room with her eyes.
“They’re in the top drawer over there.” Lynn pointed at the far right corner of the room. “Now stop shrieking and let me concentrate!”
“I can’t find it!” Eleanor shrieked.
“Oh yes you can!”
“Ah! I found it! Thanks!”
“You’re welcome. Now go finish your cloak!” Lynn shooed Eleanor out of the room, sighing.
I looked at Anne. She shrugged.
“Yes?” Lynn asked sweetly.
“Nothing.” I finished the stitching and tied off the string.
“Something,” Anne stressed, looking at me in exasperation. “You need to voice your thoughts.”
Lynn caught her glance. “Yes. It’s very important in the real world.”
“You mean to say we’re in a virtual world?”
“No, I never said that. What I meant was… Oh, for heaven’s sake, you need to say what you’re thinking.”
“Why?” I probed.
Anne rolled her eyes again. “Because,” she huffed, “No one will know what you’re thinking if you don’t say anything.”
I frowned. They were definitely up to something. “And why would I want anyone to know my thoughts?”
They looked at each other in defeat. “Katherine? I really want to do you in. But Danvers told me how you kicked his butt, so… Should we be blunt?” Anne asked Lynn.
“I never kicked his butt.” They ignored me.
Jabbing her needle at the dress rapidly, Lynn answered, “I think she can get our hints well enough.”
I stared at them both. What exactly were they getting at?
“I’m afraid I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” I took a few steps back and surveyed the dress I was working on.
Lynn glanced up at me. “You’re done? Argh!” She scrambled for the scissors and snipped off a piece of ribbon.
“No, I’m not.” I smoothed the folds of the dark blue muslin dress. Hmm. Needs a bit of…
“Well, since Lynn thinks you can take hints,” Anne said, moving over to tweak the cuff of the dress, “I’ll settle with this: in relationships, saying what you think is of paramount importance.”
I narrowed my eyes. Ah, dang it. Erica! Trust her to put them up to this.
“Isn’t that a bit too blatant?” Lynn asked.
“Well, she got it, and that’s the whole idea, isn’t it?” She cocked her head to one side, smiling innocently at me. “Well, I should go help Rachel. Au revoir!”
As I ran my eye over the dress, I commented, “Yea, that was definitely too blatant.”
Hearing the edge in my tone, Lynn looked up. “I did try to warn her.”
“She didn’t get your hints, did she?”
“Nope. Not a single one.” She tossed her long pony tail behind her back and started jabbing the needle into the fabric.
“Pity.”
“Yeah.”
“So, when did Erica put you up to this?”
“Whoever said Erica put us up to this?”
I raised an eyebrow. Not Erica?
“We discussed it among ourselves, you know, AParters, and we decided that your relationship with a certain someone cannot go on in its current state.”
“What relationship are you talking about?” I kept my tone light.
She smiled. “You know what relationship I’m talking about.”
“There is no relationship.”
“Exactly! But there should be.”
I raised an eyebrow. Isn’t there? Should there be? I brushed those distracting thoughts aside. “Well, I don’t intend for there to be a…”
“Stop. Just stop, Katherine. You’ll drive me nuts and I won’t be able to finish this.”
With a last look at my sewing, I swung over the bench that separated our worktables and looked at her design. It was extremely elaborate, with lots of ribbons curling elegantly down the back of the straps of the dress. Erica would love it to bits. I would rather blast it to smithereens than come within ten metres of someone suggesting me to wear it.
“TEN MINUTES!”
“The Grim Reaper’s getting onto my nerves,” Lynn muttered. Then she started, looking at me sheepishly. “Oops. Shouldn’t have said that out loud.”
“Come on, every one, hurry up! After this I’ll treat you all to ice cream!” He hollered , hurtling down the hallway.
“What type of ice cream?” Vaguely, I heard Yelena yell from the end of the corridor.
“Single scoop gelato or sorbet from…”
The cheer that erupted drowned out his voice.
“From?” I asked Lynn, who was jumping around in glee.
“His favourite store-”
“Did you hear that? The Grim Reaper’s treating us to ice cream!” Rachel bounded into the room, with a disgruntled Anne trailing after her.
“Yes, we know.” Lynn started sewing on another ribbon.
“They have ears, you know, unlike some people.” Anne steered her overenthusiastic friend out of the room.
“Who, you mean me?” Rachel put her hand over her chest, feigning hurt. “How could you?”
Shaking her head, Lynn muttered darkly, “Another one who should have been in Theatre Club.”
-
Yeap. And Mr Grimm’s loosely based on Mr l. So, no, his mannerisms are not exactly the same as the real-life version’s.
Now I’m realising that this theme isn’t exactly to my taste. It’s a bit too… drab. But then, that’s what you asked for when you picked monochromatic, wasn’t it?
Like the font, though.
