Plinio's POV:
"What are you doing here?"
I grouchily ask a very breathless Angel who looks as if she had been running a marathon. She chooses to ignore my question and takes a few deep breaths to stabilize herself. I just sit there glued to my chair, hands folded on my chest, and look at her.
I have been sitting in the library for the last ten minutes waiting for Celeste as told by Mr. Harrison but this Angel shows up and I have a hunch that I'm exactly who she has been looking for.
Her cheeks are tinted pink after her energetic walk to reach the library and a few stray strands of her black hair hang loosely near her ear, forbidden to touch her silky skin. The yellow fuzzy sweater and the blue jeans look good on her.
However, now that I know her association with QB Kevin and her popularity among the student body, my previous views about her have been altered. Nevertheless, it is her glittery aura that has accentuated the beauty of her clothes and not vice versa.
Angel is one of those students who add colors to the black and white ambiance of our school. She is basically the school's sweetheart and judging by her courtesy records, I think she's here to apologize for the noise pollution in the cafeteria for which I helped to maintain the peace.
"What are you doing here?" I ask her once again but less irked this time.
Her eyes dart towards me and she opens her mouth to say something but she closes it again, dismissing whatever was on her mind. Either she's having an internal war or she's still too numb after all those sloppy kisses of Kevin.
"Mr. Harper and Mr. Harrison," she pulls out the chair across from me and sits. "They think that we can help each other in History and Algebra."
"Wasn't that supposed to be someone named Celeste?" I raise my eyebrow.
She shoots me a bewildered look, looking slightly taken aback. But she quickly manages a calm and collected state.
"I am Celeste James." She tells me, taking out a notebook and a few pens from her bag.
"But I thought you were Angel, short for Angelina or something." She doesn't look at me while I speak and just shrugs telling me that Celeste is what her father named her but everyone calls her Angel somehow.
She looks as if it's not a big deal but I'm pretty sure no student here knows her real name. I mean, if Ryder doesn't know, who literally knows everyone in this town, then not many people know it.
She opens a blank page of her notebook and sets aside three different gel pens in a row; red, blue, and green. She is so girly.
"If you're done smiling to yourself then can we talk about the task at hand?" She snaps at me and I wonder where that panoramic social butterfly went.
Alas, another hypocrite.
And she's a liar to say that I was smiling because I wasn't. Or was I?
I clear my throat and nod at her to proceed. The sooner this whole session is over, the better it is.
"First of all, I don't trust you and I bet if anyone does," she speaks with firm conviction and I narrow my eyes at her, hoping to scare her with my, let me quote Ryder, horrendous face.
"Looking at me like that won't change the fact, Plinio." She deadpans.
"I'm just Nio." I chide, maintaining an angry glare to intimidate her somehow.
"I don't trust you one bit to even call you by your nickname." She blows air in her fists, looking the least affected by my persona.
"Then I won't call you Angel that everybody has misunderstood you as," I reproachfully tell her but she is looking down at her book.
Cautiously, I try to grab one of the nearest of her beloved pens. Just as my finger comes in contact with the green one, her hand slaps the back of mine, and the pen lands on her lap. I contract my hand to myself as a sharp pain radiates from it. Celeste darts her glaring eyes to mine and I swear her previously pale blue eyes are now electric.
"Plinio Murray, hear me good because I won't repeat. I don't trust you so I'm going to set some rules for you to abide by."
She takes off the cap of the red gel pen and writes 'rules' at the top of the page in cursive handwriting. Even her writing is pretty. Too bad she's a crude person disguised as an elf.
"Rule number one," she begins writing with the green pen. "You can't touch me."
"Excuse me? You just slapped my hand." I point at the back of my now red hand.
"It was merely self-defense. You could have hit me with it for all I know." She tells me without sparing any glance in my direction.
I scoff at her response but smirk to myself. At least now I know that she feels scared of me. I look around us. There's no student at this time except the librarian at the far corner. She can't hear us anyway due to her hearing problems. I can pull any trick on Celeste to keep up my dominance.
"Rule number two," she dictates once again. "You can't talk to me unless it's about history or algebra."
I nod feigning to be attentive to her bullshit. I just need a chance to show her who's the tutor.
"We'll study only in this library after our classes are over," I observe the way her fingers move as the pen slides on the paper whilst she writes. Her olive skin looks so delicate as well as those neatly manicured nails, unaware of any labor that her servants do for her at her villa.
"Lastly," she looks at me with an eagle-like gaze. "You can't be seen anywhere near me for the students to think that we are associated in any possible way."
She breaks the gaze and writes again. Her other hand is lying flat on the table. I can easily stab in the space between her fingers just to see her spooked reaction.
The blue pen is nearer this time and I seize it before she can see. Just when my fingers roll around that slim plastic pen, an electric spark shoots right through my arm and I drop it there immediately.
"Vae!" (damn it) I exclaim, retracting my arm and standing up abruptly. The wooden chair falls back with a loud thud on the floor.
The blue gel pen isn't just a pen. It is a stun gun. I can still feel the surge of its electric dart.
"And this," she smiles holding it from the safe end, "is my ultimate weapon to deal with pricks like you."
She carefully tears off that page from the book and puts it rather softly on the table for me. She puts her things in her bag except for that pen. All the while I scowl at her, rubbing my arm that has now twice been assaulted by this gracefully slender but lethally strong young lady. She is still holding that stun gun in her hand.
"Vae means damn it, right?" She asks with an amused face while I just stare at her. "See you on Monday!"
She walks out of the library with the bag slung on her shoulder and the tiny weapon in her pocket now. The bell rings just as she exits and I'm left digesting the three facts.
Celeste knows Latin.
She has slapped my hand.
She has stunned me with that pen.
I'll make sure the school knows that she isn't actually an Angel.
Plinio's POV:"I am so sorry, honey. This won't happen again. I swear."These were the exact words my Dad, Carlos Murray, beseeched to Mom with his hands folded. His fingertips had turned almost white.Mom was sitting on the couch, rubbing ice over her swollen cheek and wiping away her tears like bird shit on the windscreen. Dad was kneeling in front of her on the floor, apologizing repeatedly. With each assurance he gave, my heart became confident that this miserable incident won't occur again. Because that ten-year-old Plinio believed that you don't hurt whom you love.I saw the scene unfold in front of my eyes as my mother forgave him. I was sitting on the cold wooden floor inside my room, peeking from the slightly ajar door. The cold sensation on my bare legs i
Plinio's POV: "She's not a banana, you baboon! Stop ogling." I am sitting in Ms. Anne's literature class, minding my own business today that is to observe something unusual in Celeste when a crumpled paper is thrown at me. Nobody in my tiny social circle at school would even dare to throw something at me, saying these words is far from it. Logan would have laid back on the chair, folding his hands behind his head, and joined me like a bastard he is. That leaves only one insane boy I know of; Ryder. He has even drawn the said creature beating its chest. Owing to his poor drawing skills, it strikes me as Ryder himself. He is sitting on my left. I fix him a hard glare and throw the paper on his lap. He shakes his head with a l
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 o
Plinio's POV: "Don't be such a cry baby now." Logan and I often teased Forman, Hayley, or any other person who became our victim. They would cry and Logan would laugh. I stood there beside him and didn't show any reaction. Too dead to feel anything, if you ask me. However, if Logan looked at me, I would force a smile. A sneer. I have not always been this way. The first time I abused someone, Hayley was on the receiving end. Logan saw her eyes, crossed, and wicked thoughts came sprinting in his larky mind. It was an evening six months after my mom's death. The two of us were walking in the park near his home. We weren't that close but because I was being looked after by his parents, we got along. I was still in the stage of
Plinio's POV "Alone." The clock says 4:30 pm and the sun is about to set behind those thick dark clouds and I have nothing else to do except to hear her uninvited voices. I can't get her out of my head. Every single word she said is smothering me and I don't even know why. I still can't figure out if she said just because for the sake of it or if she actually cares. I don't want her pity if that's the case. And I am not alone, she was obviously wrong about everything. There are people who look after me. They may be few but they are there. Aunt Mary is one of them. And when did you meet her the last time? In f*cking May.
Plinio's POV: "You look extra pissed today," Logan's remark makes me want to throw him out of this cafeteria but I focus on my French fries. I look pissed off every day and that's exactly how I'm supposed to look. Perhaps I really am a devil. "It's my usual face." I shrug. "You know it." But this is a lie because it's not the case today. I haven't seen Celeste since yesterday in the library. She didn't take literature class and I have a hunch she's absent. I hope she's okay. It's good for me though, her being absent. It will help me get her out of my head and relieve myself from mindless second thoughts about everything I do. With an exhale, I dip the French fry in ketchup and focus on it instead.
Plinio's POV: Yesterday, I accidentally went to the library after my classes were over. Then I remembered that Celeste was absent. I hope she comes to school today. Ms. Anne's class is about to start in twenty minutes. She should be on her way. Ryder is sitting in front of me. I feel an urge to talk to him, to say something, anything but I don't. It's better for the two of us to not talk to each other. I sigh, stretching my forelimbs and a yawn escapes my mouth. My eyes land on her contagious smile and the slight crease of her skin at the corners of those bow-shaped cherry lips. I hope I'm not hallucinating like yesterday because, honestly, her eyes look f**king beautiful when she smiles like that. Even the corner of her ey
Celeste's POV: "Angel!" I hear Kevin shout my name from outside my house. He didn't honk today and I wonder why. I gulp the remaining milk in the mug and after grabbing my bag, I head outside. "Lock the door!" Kevin shouts poking out his head from the car and I facepalm. Who forgets locking her own home? Angel James. Once the door is locked, I exhale and walk to his car. He gives me a thumbs up and I smile back. Returning the thumbs up would be like agreeing that I'm clumsy and absent-minded which I'm not. I just have a lot of things in my head and sometimes I get caught up in them. I slide onto the passenger's seat and throw my bag behind. "Are you alright today?" he loo