Honey and Spice | ✔️

Chapter 8

Nathan

Ryder came to the stairwell on Monday and the next day and the subsequent days after that. Sometimes, he waits for me after class to go to the stairwell together. Other times, when we have different classes before lunch, we wait for one another at the stairwell. It’s almost like we made an unspoken unanimous agreement to meet here every day.

To be honest, I kinda like it. Ryder’s fun to be with and my lunches are not lonely anymore. Almost by accident, I might have made my third-ever friend - if you count my friend from grade 7 who went overseas with whom I lost contact (I didn't really like her anyway, she's too gossipy) and of course, Cole.

One fine Wednesday at the stairwell, Ryder stands up and says, “Let’s take a walk, Nathan.”

"Um, sure?"

After helping me up, he pushes the door open with his hip and takes a dramatic deep breath. “Smell that?” He exhales. “It reeks of dusty deformed ceramic mugs and unrecognised artistic talents.” and I laugh at that.

We walk on the small field behind the art storage room. This place is so abandoned, the grass reaches below my calf. There are many little white flowers growing here and small white butterflies flitting around. Upon closer inspection, I find small rings of mushrooms and many tiny dandelion-like plants too - groundsels, I reckon. The gentle morning light weaves through tree leaves like lace, casting spots of shadows on the field of grass. If I could, I would live here.

Ryder bends down to look at something, then he stands up and gives me a small flower. It's a small white one, like a daisy. I smile shyly and tuck it behind my ear.

“Random question,” Ryder speaks in a low voice as if to not disturb the tranquillity of this place. “If you were given the choice to change your name, what would it be?”

I mull it over. What name would I choose? I mean, I'm already okay with my name - Nathan already seems appropriate for me. I don’t know, it kind of fits me. The name Nathan just gives off a very quiet, coffee-addicted bookworm vibe.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go first,” Ryder says after a moment of silence. “Brent.”

“Brent?”

“Brent. Brent Dela Cruz, minus the Anthony ‘cause I don't like it, so yeah. Brent.”

“Brent?”

“Yeah.”

I giggle. “Sorry, it just sounds so. . . I don’t know, um, ordinary?”

Ryder rolls his eyes. “What about Ash? Jax?"

"It sounds like a metal Lumberjack band, The Jax and the lead vocalist is Ash Kingston or something."

"C'mon! I'm telling you my deepest darkest secret!" Ryder pokes me in the arm and I laugh. "Whatever, your turn."

"Um, I don't know," I say, "I can't think of anything."

"What about Cole? You look like a Cole."

"That's my brother's name."

"Ah. What about. . . Auden?"

"Auden?"

"Auden, golden. Get it?"

I got it right away, but anyway I say, "Uh, no?"

"Well, the chemical symbol of gold is Au, right? So Au-den. Auden, golden!"

I laugh. "Why Auden?"

"Your hair." Ryder looks at me. “It looks kinda golden in this light."

I feel my cheeks heating up - I don't know why. "Right. Um, my hair, golden. . ." I stumble. Real smooth, Nathan, real smooth.

He smiles. "So, anyway, back to the name thing. Maybe. . . Chacha?"

If I was an undercover spy who had to flee to another country and create a new identity for myself, never in my life would my new name be Chacha.

"Chacha?! Is that even a name?"

"Maybe, yeah." Ryder shrugs.

"I sound like a Sriracha sauce bootleg, like Sir-Chacha or something," I deadpan.

Ryder guffaws. "Sorry" - he looks at me with such seriousness in his eyes - "Chacha!" then he laughs again.

I punch him in the arm, but it's a weak and pathetic one so instead of a pow, it's a boop. Ryder's still laughing. "Hilarious," I tell him but I find myself smiling anyway.

Suddenly a deep voice booms, "HEY! WHY ARE YOU TWO LOITERING HERE?"

We freeze like deers at a headlight. The owner of the voice is a (to put it charitably) pudgy teacher who is standing outside the Pottery Room. Oh, man. I stand rooted to the ground, mind racing.

"Oh shit," Ryder whispers, then he grabs my hand and takes off. "Run run run run run run."

It feels like I'm tied to the bumper of a race car because Ryder sure is fast. And me? I stumble clumsily behind like a rag doll. Good thing I haven't tripped and fallen yet because that would be embarrassing.

"Why (pant) are (pant) we (pant) running?" I ask in between breaths.

"I don't know! I just panicked!"

After a while of running, we pull to a stop behind a wall near the first-floor classrooms. I try to catch my breath as Ryder checks behind the wall if the teacher is behind us. My heart is beating so hard my whole body shakes with every pulse. I need to get my stamina in check one day.

I touch my left ear. The daisy's gone. Aw, it must've dropped when we were running. Then, Ryder remembers that his hand is in mine and awkwardly tries to remove it. 

"Oh, sorry," he mumbles.

"Uh, that's fine." The cold of his hand vanishes from mine and it's like Ryder has kept me steady until now because I immediately double over, feeling light-headed.

"Hey, hey," he asks gently, his hand around my arm, "you alright?"

I take a deep breath and look up at him. "Yeah, I just- " I smile weakly at him. "I just haven't ran this much in a while."

"Poor thing," he coos and helps me up.

"Do you think we're going to get in trouble?" I ask him after I have caught my breath.

"Maybe not." Then he mutters under his breath, "If he could run anyway."

I jab his rib with my elbow weakly. "Hey! Don't be mean!"

"Sorry."

"By the way, it's your fault he found us. You kept laughing too much!"

"I couldn't help it, Chacha!" Ryder laughs again and I weakly nudge his arm.

Ryder finishes laughing and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Okay, in the time I spent laughing, I’ve thought of something.”

“I’m listening.”

“Okay, so, here’s the plan: we come to school tomorrow in dramatically different styles and probably dye our hair a different colour. And also name ourselves Chacha and Brent."

"Barf. Here's my proposition: how about we don't take walks anymore?"

"Eh, sounds good." He shrugs. "Though we should go somewhere else for recess, I guess."

I think about it. "Hmm, the library?”

"But it's near the general office! He'll probably see us again."

"But it’s air-conditioned at least! And there are books too!"

Ryder smiles and rolls his eyes. "Fine. Tomorrow at the library. Deal?" He holds out his hand.

"I was the one who suggested going to the library, but deal anyway."

We shake on that and the bell rings. Students from the canteen soon fill the corridors, laughing, talking, taking books out of their lockers. Ryder and I walk up the stairs to chem class together (stairs! As if running wasn’t enough and now we have to trek up four flights of stairs). I still feel the rush of adrenaline from just now and I kind of want to do it again, but I don't want to get in trouble.

So much for being 'rebellious'.