Merula 2:3

Chapter 2:3 -Rumours (yes I've changed the title which I'm fully entitled to)

Even though I prefer to be alone lunch break was kind of fun. My new class gathered around me like I was Jesus, they the twelve disciples and every word I said were Gods words sent from heaven with a text message.
-How did you solve no. 11? It was so difficult.
-No. 4 question a, were you supposed to use Pythagoras’ or what? I tried that but…
-You probably calculated wrongly.
-What was the answer to 12?
-Can you teach me?
-Can you forge the next test for me?
Then Mandy waved to me across the cafeteria and the questions changed topic. And I stopped taking part of the conversation. Not that I was ever a part of it as much as it circulated around me.
-How do you know Mandy?
-She’s like the coolest person in school.
-Do you know how she does her curls?
-She’s like an old fashioned film star, like Hollywood in the twenties.
-You mean thirties.
-Do you know Rogan too?
-Isn’t he sexy like hell?
-I know.
-I heard he’s single, if you don’t count his stalker Lindy.
The girls all laughed.
And then the questions turned into rumours.
-I’ve heard he’s on meds.
-What kind?
-Psychiatric, like he’s depressed.
-He does look depressed, he looks so sad.
-I heard he beat someone awhile ago.
I am not a fan of spreading made-up lies and tried to smuggle myself out before someone noticed me. Then a girl said:
-I’ve heard he tried to kill himself. You know, his left wrist, he has a scar there. That’s why he always covers it with bracelets.
Somehow this gossip seemed real. I looked at Rogan who was located in the back of the cafeteria. He did have bracelets and they covered his left wrist completely. If he once had tried to kill himself it wouldn’t be strange if he was on meds either. My curiosity grew. I had to ask Mandy.

After lunch I was called to the expedition. There the headmaster, a plump older man, and another teacher, with a face of stone, waited for me. I immediately hated them both and I’m not the kind of person who hates anyone, except Rogan. Now, don’t blame me for disliking a person based on the first impression. They didn’t like me either. I saw it in how they looked at me. Disbelief and great dislike. I was not the person they had expected. They had probably imagined a straight back, braided hair-kind of girl with glasses on the tip of the nose. Not a black haired, rebellious looking girl with piercings. I looked like the girl who was the root of all evil in the school. That was just my exterior, but the fact that they judged me for of it made me dislike them. Mildred sat behind her desk and followed our conversation with her small glass-covered eyes sparkling of curiosity.
-You are probably going to change class to another one that’ll suit you better, the headmaster started.
-Probably? I asked. I wasn’t all too surprised by the news except for that one word.
-Mr Twigs reported about your success on the math test and I’ve gone through your previous grades. But…
But what? I thought dryly and tried to not look too bitter.
-This week we will test you in every subject so that we know in what class we should put you in. We will keep a close watch on you and decide what to do at the end of the week. My advice to you, young lady, is to not try to out-do yourself as these tests will not in any way affect your grades. They will only give us an idea of what educational level you’re at. Mr Stone here will supervise you. Any questions?
Oh, I had plenty. Like, is his name really Stone? Not Graveyard, as in he’s so dead serious. A lame joke I know, humour wasn’t really my strong side. I still smiled on the inside when I shook my head.
I walked out of the office holding a paper of the dates for the upcoming tests.
Now, how to prepare for a test you can’t really prepare for. First things first, find the right location where you can sit for hours without being bothered. The library. Secondly, make sure you have something to nibble on when you get hungry because you’re not going to leave this place for anything except bathroom breaks. So, apples and a banana and a water bottle. Third, make sure you have the right equipment. Papers, pencils and a rubber. Fourth, … I give up! I don’t know. Somehow my afternoon trickled away like the tiny grains in an hourglass, while I stared at the wall in front of me. When the clock stroke six the librarians chased me out and I wandered to the bus stop. Guess who I met there. Surprise, surpsrise! Rogan.
Our eyes met and he turned away. I was too tired to get irritated.
The bus ride was long and tiresome. I could feel a headache building up and I massaged my temples gently. Walking to the Evaeus flat from the bus stop I slowly followed in Rogan’s trail hoping he wouldn’t mind too much but without him I wouldn’t find my new home. I still couldn’t grip what could have changed him so much from the boy on the metro. Those were the thoughts going through my head as I watched his stiff back. He was well aware of my presence but completely ignored me. It hurt me more than I thought it would do. Then I saw his bracelets on his left wrist and was reminded of the rumours I’d heard. Maybe that was why. Maybe he had been hurt before, incredible hurt and now he tried to protect himself from ever getting hurt again. Maybe rejecting me was a way for him to feel safe. Maybe.
I caught up with him and gave him my widest smile.
-Hi, I said still smiling.
Rogan wrinkled his eyebrows, clearly irritated but I ignored that and everything else he had done so far and still managed smile.
-So, how are you doing? I tried to make it sound as natural as I could, despite that his glaring brown eyes from this morning popped up in my head. I was still smiling but my cheeks begun to hurt.
Rogan kept ignoring me.
-Soo, I heard you’re on meds.
Yep, that gave an effect. Though, not the one I was looking for. Me and my big mouth.
-None of your fucking business! Rogan roared at me and stormed off.
Couldn’t really blame him. But somewhere inside of me I felt satisfied. Which wasn’t the feeling I had set out to feel. But Rogan’s neglect made me mad and I wanted revenge for… something.
Maybe, after all, he was just a jerk who couldn’t handle that the girl he’d kissed moved into his flat to live with him and his family. What a jerk.

To be continued...
By J.L.Frick