Life Of A Bitch

16

Where did he go?

I'm out of the sports room now, walking along the football field towards the parking area. I was running to look for Brandon; call it extreme, but what he did for me to get me out of this mess, is unforgettable, being my enemy. But I no longer have the energy and the will to run in such a huge campus, so I'm walking.

It feels so nice to walk in the open, with the wind fanning my cheeks and hair. I look up at the dark sky — it's evening now— but there are no stars. Huh. There should be at least a few stars, to cheer me up. Right, I forgot. It's the city, not the countryside.

I then remember my upcoming tests and break into a brisk walking. It's just six; I'll get home before seven, take a power nap and study all night. And then I see him, walking with Julian, at the entrance of the parking lot.

"Brandon!" I begin to run. Sorry, legs, but I have to do this. "Brandon!"

He doesn't hear. "Brandon!"

He turns around, looking at me. I can't see his expression, but I see his lips moving. After which, Julian appears to nod and walk away.

I reach up to him, panting and sweating like a pig. He waits for me to catch my breath, while giving me hints about how his time is precious and cannot be wasted on stupid things.

"Brandon—" panting—"thank you for—" panting— "what you did today—" panting — "I'm grateful."

He stares at me for a second. "Anything else?"

What? Come on, Brandon, why so much hate? I just thanked you! A nod, maybe?

As if sensing my thoughts, he says with a frown, "You trashed my locker. You vandalised Michelle's car. You bully kids on a regular basis. Why wouldn't I hate you?"

I feel my cheeks turning pink. "Y-yes, uh, about that. I'm sorry again."

"You aren't sorry."

Right, I am not for Michelle's car. I'm sorry for the locker.

"You probably thought I was served right by karma, didn't you? Yet—"

Brandon looks at the gate and turns to me. With an irritated sigh, he says, "I hate you and you hate me. But it's more difficult on my side. If any injustice happens to any of you jerks, I have to act like I don't hate you and treat you equally like the others. Help you, support you in your times of distress and acting like I actually care."

Yeah right. Stupid heart, for setting up false hopes. Stupid, stupid heart.

I look down, and mumble. "Um, even if this is all over, something is still nagging me."

Brandon look at me suddenly, with sudden interest. "What?"

"You know right, that Anita does not the mental capacity to design and execute such an intricate plan of setting me up in a trap. So, I think she was just the pawn; there was someone else behind her, encouraging her, guiding her to all of this. Someone who set in her heart the greed of taking over my position."

Brandon thinks about it for a moment. "Well, that someone is surely like you all, or even belongs to your gang: conniving, wicked and ambitious for something totally stupid."

I bite down my lip to stop the laughter from escaping my mouth. I know this is an insult, yet I don't why I find it so funny. Unable to hold it in any longer, I burst out laughing. My real laughter, not the cute giggling, which inevitably leads to—

"You snort while laughing?" Brandon asks, disbelievingly.

I look down in embarrassment. This is what I hate about my laugh; that disgusting snort.

I hear the rumbling of engine and look up towards the gate. A silver Lexus, which is Brandon's car, enters the campus, with Callaghan behind the wheel.

I look at Brandon, who at the same time turns back to face the car. But in the fleeting second, I swear I see Brandon smiling. His cute smile, blushing a little.

Oh, come on, grow out of your fantasies. Brandon smiled because Callaghan entered the scene.

But he smiled before— ah, never mind. I overthink about everything.

The car stops a few feet in front of us and she gets out. Brandon walks toward her. "Bran, are you okay?" She says, hugging him tightly.

Oh how I envy you, Callaghan.

Brandon turns around and nods at me, before getting inside the car. I walk towards the car, and smile at Callaghan.

"Hi, Michelle," I smile at her.

She smiles back. But there's something else in her eyes, some other emotion. Hatred? Anger, maybe? Or is it, disappointment?

"Sorry for what happened to you." She says, pouting.

"Yeah, that. And, sorry for what I did to your car." I don't believe I'm saying this, but I think it's because Brandon is within earshot.

"You have to be." Michelle chuckles. "I'm gonna visit your house twice a week from now on and meet your mother, remember?"

I am just trying to be nice. Oh, what the hell, who am I kidding. How can I be nice?

Michelle gets in the car, while removing the same Polaroid camera I saw with her earlier from the driving seat, giving it Brandon. "You're quite addicted to Polaroids, I assume?" I ask her, trying to make small talk.

"Yeah." Michelle shrugs. Then she looks at me dead in the eye, very seriously. "I click photos for fun. And sometimes," she winks, "I click photos, just to cause trouble." I move away from the car as she turns it around and exits the campus.

What was she—

Oh damn. Oh damn. Oh damnnnn.

Callaghan was behind all this?

I don't — I don't know what to say! What the hell?

I look at the retreating Lexus, feelings of anger, hatred and admiration mixing up in my head, forming a big, confused ball of emotions.

Well played, bitch.