10 | Close but wrong

Celeste's POV

"You are late,"

And not just late. Plinio is fifteen minutes late. He may be the one to not care about it but I do.

I cared for Kevin when he told me to be careful around Plinio because we don't know what may be going on in his execrable mind. I care for my time that is undoubtedly money.

I could have listened to more of Kevin's stories about the visit of his Aunt for Christmas. Judging by the things he has told, he's enjoying the company of her and her eight-year-old twins. Well, except the cat they brought along.

Kevin is not fond of cats. He's almost allergic to them, without the appearance of symptoms of course. He hates how they are always in the mood of playing, how they love to cuddle, how they get curious about the tiniest things, and how they roam around the house at night. Although I find them adorable, I really don't have a say in this regard. Perhaps in the future, when Kevin and I will be living together, I may help him to change his mind about those lovely creatures.

"Something came up," Plinio replies with his voice slightly scratchy.

He sits across from me and takes out the related books from his bag. I can smell cigarette smoke from him and it burns my nose. So this is what kept him busy. As if seeing him is just not enough, now I have to deal with the smoky smell he's wearing. I wish I had a body spray with me.

"What's your history grade?" I assort my pens and highlighters in the space between our books on the table. The black pen is in my pocket just in case. But I must say, Plinio is unusually quiet today.

"B-," he replies monotonously and I'm not surprised at all.

It was Mr. Harrison who told me that Plinio's good at this subject but he doesn't give it a try. He further said that Plinio deliberately attempts only half of the test. The majority of what he does is right and the rest is wrong. I don't know if it's true or not and what's the reason behind such a nonsense failure but the way Mr. Harrison talked about Plinio was definitely different.

He is one of the few teachers in our school who genuinely care about the well-being of the students. Mr. Harrison was a bit more concerned for Plinio than he usually is. He made me give a try to tutoring Plinio.

"What's your grade in algebra?" I look at him for a second after he asks me that question.

I see a glint of mischief in those chocolate brown eyes hidden behind his thick lashes. Obviously, my grades aren't good in that subject. That's why I'm here. But he has told me his so it's only fair that I tell him to mine too.

"C+," I sigh and hear a conceited hmph from him.

I clench my fist under the table on the verge of telling him to shut up. But I count till ten instead. Plinio just brings out the worst of me. I take a deep breath and let the hurt fade with the carbon dioxide I just released.

Last time in the library, at this very table, I know I was rude to him. But Plinio doesn't deserve anybody's decency. He is a bully for God's sake. He beat Robin last week just because he bumped into him in the hallways. He still has a greenish bruise under his eye. While Plinio left was untouched that day.

He already has his previous scars. There's a bandage peeking out of his cap on his forehead even today. I have no idea how he gets beat up so often. He's quite invincible in school but his face says otherwise. I have only seen him battered. Rumor has it that Plinio runs an underground mafia. One time I even heard some students call him a drug dealer. But who really knows?

As for the reason behind Robin's panic, his grandmother had a heart attack just two days prior to his birthday. Things have been rough at his home since then.

Even in the cafeteria today, Plinio and Logan didn't spare Hayley. She ran away the moment Logan sat beside her, terrified of being close to his proximity. She told Kevin and I that the two of them have bullied them several times just because she's strabismic. Even the thought of the two of them now sickens me. Yet I have to deal with Plinio and the use of a stun gun is completely fair in my view.

Bully isn't just an abuse reserved for somebody fat or slim, short or tall, cross-eyed or four-eyed, shy or talkative, nerd or fool; these are mere excuses. A bully physically, verbally, emotionally, or mentally abuses every single human he sees as vulnerable. It is about the sense of dominance the bully feels by making others feel ashamed of themselves.

"Starting with AP US history," I begin the task at hand to get it done sooner. Oddly, his attention isn't on me like it had been the last time. He won't even notice if I get up and walk away.

"It's been divided into a total of nine periods. Starting from 1491 to the modern age........" I teach him the key points first and elaborate it later. He doesn't say a word the whole time and just looks down at his lap. I urge him to at least nod every five minutes or so to let me know he's awake. But Plinio isn't the one to please the other person just for once.

"Okay," I close the book with a slam after I'm done with the first chapter but he doesn't even budge. This guy seriously knows how to nag me like sticky flies. However, he can't earn a reaction from me if that's what he wants. "I'll take a two-minute quiz to review what we've studied so far. You just have to answer in one word. I'll set the timer on my phone."

He shifts his posture much to my surprise, yet his gaze remains down, not in respect though, I'm sure of that. I set the timer and open the bookkeeping it in front of my face so that he can't steal a glance. I look over at him from behind the book.

"The most important crop among native Americans?" I speak in a single breath as seconds fly by. Plinio pops one knuckle and replies after thirty seconds have passed. God, give me patience!

"Tobacco," he answers his own favorite thing in the world instead. I have to try hard to suppress my chuckle at that.

"Wrong. Maize." I say eyeing his body language. It appears as if he's trying his best to not give the right answer. "Name the treaty for the division of the new world?"

"Colombian exchange." He pops another knuckle replying flatly.

"Wrong. Treaty of Tordesillas." I shake my head. "The Spanish explorer who led the expedition from Mexico to Arizona?"

He doesn't pop a knuckle this time. Looking at him, I see how he scratches the back of his neck. He actually doesn't know the answer to this. Forty seconds pass.

"Francisco Pizarro?" He says sounding unsure this time.

"Close but wrong." His shoulders visibly sag at my reply, like he is unsatisfied at his mistake. "Francisco Coronado. Which crop arrived in Europe in 1550?"

"Maize," he replies within thirty seconds this time in the same dead tone.

"Oh, come on," I drop the book on the table grumpily. "You can't abuse your favorite crop like that!"

Plinio looks up from his lap at me. There's a different kind of smile on his thin lips and even his ears are slightly red at the tips. This isn't his smug kind of laugh. It's a smile of surprise perhaps. I've caught him red-handed this time after all.

"Tobacco," it comes out as a whisper from his mouth as he is busy controlling his involuntary smile.

"Yes, that's the one," I nod maintaining my calm state once again. I got too frank with him. A force of habit, what else can I say. I have never seen him smile like that. He usually smiles in his demonic side looped way.

"Now let's get to algebra without wasting any time. I've somewhere to be after this." I state in a hurry, putting my phone in the bag.

Kathy. I have to see my sister; the piece of my heart. I was busy with Kevin and Stella on the weekend. It really pains me to be apart from my sister. Kevin's father thinks it will be better this way; nobody knowing my mother and sister. He says that people would pass sick remarks and I won't be able to handle it. He's right but it's hard this way.

I used to be desperate to turn eighteen. And when I turned eighteen, child care services has declared me ineligible to take care of my own sister. I am desperate to earn more money now.

"Got a boyfriend to catch?" Plinio's question catches me off base. I don't like the detest in his tone. It makes me feel embarrassed about something I haven't even done.

"Kevin's not running away for me to catch him," I shake my head, not glancing at him. I don't want to see the nasty look on his face.

"I mean the other boyfriend," I hear his tawdry sneer and find myself flinching unconsciously at the way he makes me feel. "The scaredy-cat who is probably two years younger than you are. Females must have a fantasy associated with younger males. Perhaps the dominant sensation."

"I don't know what you're saying," I grit my teeth keeping my glare at the book and my grip on the pencil tightens. Plinio has to show his true colors after all. He has to unleash his monster and make me lose my mind. But I persevere and count till ten. It is my fault anyways.

"Oh, come on, Angel," he coaxes like a seducing witch. I can feel his eyes on me, counting the seconds to my breaking point. "I'm talking about the boy with whom you were having a heart-to-heart conversation in the morning. The one I punched last week."

"Robin?" A gasp leaves my mouth before I can even control myself and the pencil slips from my hand onto the floor. I finally look up at his dark eyes with a grimace of my own.

"So that's his name, Robin," he smirks slyly, rolling the innocent name on his filthy tongue. "Robin, nice name, isn't it? How does it feel to laugh with one and sleep with-"

"Don't dare finish that sentence! Do you even hear yourself!?" I retort with a miff. The volume of my voice is higher for a library. At least no student is here to listen to us, not that I see, apart from Mrs. Christine who will be here any minute now. The loop-sided smirk on Plinio's face tells me I've failed to endure him. I have let him succeed in whatever he wanted to do.

"Is it just a game for you? A hobby to make you feel less bored, attack others at their weakest, and make yourself look stronger. Are you even a human? I had refused Mr. Harper for this whole tutoring idea. What can a devil like you do better than spreading hatred? But I freaking agreed later on. And you know why? Because I pity you. You, Plinio Murray, are the most helpless and pitiful person I've ever seen!"

My breathing is labored by the time I stop. I can hear the hit of Mrs. Christine's walking stick on the tiled floor as she is walking with her sloped back towards us. Her crinkled face is contorted and somewhat blurry too. Through my moist and burning eyes, I find his own eyes wide with astonishment.

I don't hope for my words to strike him as a sudden revelation. He has gone too far to return by mere words. He is just as hopeless as is the revival of the scale of justice in this unfair world. I spoke for the sake of myself. There's a limit to everything and I've been seeing him torturing naïve students for two years now. I can't sit silently forever.

"You are proud of being a bully, aren't you? You like victimizing weaker kids but you know who is the biggest victim of them all? You." I point my index finger at him. My nerves are getting out of control but these bottled-up words can't seem to finish.

"You are bullying yourself because the others may get up after falling and make something out of their life. What are you going to do when," I shake my head, "If, you realize your mistakes? Your sins? There will be no coming back, Plinio. All you'll have will be regrets and your own darkness. And you're going to drown in it. Alone."

I shove my books and pens in my bag and walking past Mrs. Christine, I exit the library. It is still difficult to breathe and I fear having a panic attack at this rate. I brush away the tears with the back of my hand and try to harmonize my breathing with the nearest voice. But it's only the muffled weary shouting of our librarian I hear.

My cries don't even make sense. I haven't lost my sanity or sensibility. I have not lost anything. Not yet anyway. So I do what I can.

I remind myself to just keep breathing.