Vengeance Is Ice Cream

Chapter 7

Jina had a problem with the way she positioned her braids on her chest and shoulders. Every time - every damn time - Kyle Blue was in a five-metre radius, her makeover session would begin in which I was the bored consultant. She would first ask, 'Is there anything on my face?' To which I would mutter, 'No.' Then she would re-apply her beloved lip balm, smearing a thick translucent layer on her brown-ish pink lips. Then, she would adjust her uniform, tucking the shirt, pulling it out, adjusting and then flattening the skirt and arranging the pleats. Then, finally, she would ask the question - 'Do my braids look better like this or like this or like this or like this?' Jina would change their positions from both braids in front to both at the back to right in front and left at the back and vice versa. I would patiently give her my valuable opinion and she would give him a glance from the corner of her eyes. Ever the coy lady.

Insufferable girl.

There was a reason we wore uniforms; to look the same. (I probably did not need to add that point; Jina would need that, though.)

I did not deign to point that out to her. She already thought I was too practical in some matters, which I chose to ignore. It was not my way, It was Jina's way. And what was not Jina's way (cough* practicality *cough) was my way.

Jina's efforts appeared to fail day by day. Why? Do you know why?

Because she didn't even talk to him ONCE! NOT ONCE! Ironic, given her boldness to crush on a boy way over the top of his head. It amused to me to see such swaggering from a guy with literally no muscle; or fat.

And she had truly, very certainly pulled my leg (hypothetically) and dragged me through the mud to do her bidding (hypothetically). 'Lee, can you ask him if he has a crush?' 'Lee, is he left-handed? Ask him.' 'Lee, Lee, Lee.....' I had asked her why she couldn't ask him herself. And she had said, 'Now, he doesn't know me at all. If I go to him and start talking so suddenly, all my work will go down the drain. He knows you, hell, I even used to think he liked you or something but no. Like why would you like my crush, you wouldn't do-'

'Jina,' I had interrupted her, 'you are running far from the topic.'

'Oh yeah,' she started, smiling apologetically, 'so as I was saying, you two are friends - well, kind of - and he talks to you. You could just put in a word for me, you know, just slightly let my name be mentioned. Just to get him to look at me with those great eyes of his.'

'I could, Jina. But it's not a big thing to make friends - at first - with a guy you like. Plus, if I mention your name or anything related to you whatsoever, wouldn't that make it slowly obvious that you might like him or possibly are so revolted by him that you need a person to relay the message to him? What if I mention you and he asks me to tell you that you should just inquire about anything or say anything to him directly? You would just bring us both down.'

'True...' She sighed resignatedly. I put my hand on her shoulder for reassurance. 

'Come on, don't be sad. It's not like the road is blocked forever. We'll see what we can do.'

'Okay, Lee.' She smiled a little.

'Let's get back to our places.' With that, we stopped and settled down in class. It was unusually buzzy and when I asked Via why, she said Miss Potts was going to select the class monitor in her period, which was right now.

The said teacher entered just then, merrily saying, 'Good morning, my children!' It seemed she was aware of the buzz, too. The vibe in the classroom.

It wasn't that nobody wanted to be the class monitor, but nobody wanted to be the class monitor. Some liked to lead, like me or even Via. But some students hated the prospect of getting up every time the class was devoid of a teacher to contain the "spirits" of the classroom instead of contributing to raising them. Some just wanted to be out of the field vision of any teacher. I could understand. A bit.

I was not highly expectant of myself to become one, but then you can never blow out that small kernel of hope that you become the monitor. Jina and I were coincidentally talking about it yesterday and she had said she was ninety-nine per cent certain I would become the class monitor. I had smiled shyly, shrugging and trying to dismiss the compliment. It was sometimes hard to handle the confidence, expectations and attention of others on you, even when you did things that were conducive to them. It's because I was trying not to be an arrogant arse who basked in fame and glory, I wanted to stay humble. It's what I had been taught.

It was that day now, and the suspense and anticipation were hanging so thickly in the air, that my fingernail could slice it in perfect halves. Generally, the teacher chose the child. We didn't vote for this one because voting wasn't a viable option - everyone would vote for their friends and we didn't have full attendance every day. And only a teacher could see your personality in the classroom, as the opposition leader. Even if the chosen candidate was selected at her discretion. That wasn't an issue, to be honest. The issue was if she would select someone good. 

So, to not have a part in making us snap from the building intensity, Miss Potts began with an ice breaker. She was talking as if it was the first time any of us was doing this, maybe even rightly so because no matter how old we were, some had the common sense of a three-year-old. She stated the benefits of interpersonal and intrapersonal bonds and how much they improved and/or benefitted from such a duty. The usual 'with great power comes great responsibility' lesson. It misted the tension into dust.

I turned my gaze towards Jina and saw that she was staring at me too. We smiled at each other, eager to know. We would be happy for the other if one of us did get the title. We were best friends, after all.

I wasn't looking at anyone. My eyes were glued to Miss Potts', to the dark blue badge twirling in her moon-white fingers. I noticed her eyes, moving over the tops of our heads, maybe hovering a little on one of us, sometimes she would narrow her eyes on of the students like she was thinking Doctor Strange-level hard. Maybe she could see our bio data appear right beside our faces and was analysing them, like Iron Man's suit.

And I kid you not, the entire class was pin-drop silent, a rare site. I felt that if the bell had rung at that moment, not one person would even flinch or deign to bat an eyelash. Because the tension was thicker than before.

'Hmm,' Miss Potts broke the silence, 'who should I choose?'

Was she toying with us? Miss Potts chuckled then. 'Okay, let me not build so much suspense, it's not a movie.' We laughed nervously at that.

She exhaled loudly, getting ready to announce the winner. 'The monitor of this class, for the duration of a month goes to...'

That look again. 

'Lee Thomas.'

The class errupted into applause. 

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