Alazne

“You did what?” I asked for the fifth time that minute, staring at the computer monitor.  It was one a Youtube Video—my sister, Kathryn’s video, or rather a Vlog. It was titled:  Screwed-Over Girl’s Revenge.

My sister, Kathryn woke me up in the morning to the sound of her morning workout routine, and then called me over to her old room (now the guest room) and sat me down by the computer—to show me this?

“I posted a video, duh, but that’s not the point. It features you, my adorable little sister,” she boasted, and leaned towards the computer screen, her arm stretched to get a grip of the mouse. She pressed the play button. “Now watch.”

  The video started with Kathryn in a car, panning onto the street then onto Travis, who was driving. They exchanged a couple words, and explained that they were visiting family with some important news. It skipped ahead to some talking in the park, and then jumped to the moment in the couch. The scene changed and it was in her room, she explained what happened, and then went to the court where….Joshua Grey runs off.

It pans out to her worried face, and then she did another run through on what happened, followed by moments with Travis and then into the dinner moment—there she takes a break, pausing at mom’s face, then continues to talk in her room. “And this is for the guy who screwed my sister over,” she gave the camera the finger, and then said, “but that’s not all. That screwed-over girl isn’t going to let him get away with it, here’s her response.”

My jaws dropped, when I realized she was playing the scene where I was reciting my poem—my spoken word. I never intended for anyone to see the video, neither less hear the poem. It was personal. Something that I was embrassed to even to feeling, yet now— Oh God—how many people saw this?

“Isn’t it great?” She began to scroll down the screen, “just look at how many people liked it.”

Okay, that’s a lot of likes—and wait, were those comments about me?  Instead of being filled with hatred, jokes, and weird comments like I feared, they were encouraging me, saying I needed to continue, I was inspiring and that they’d love to see more of me.

“Isn’t it amazing?”She squeaked, squeezing my shoulders with her hands. She leapt a bit, adding pressure to my shoulders. I wondered why she was excited about it, or was she always a big morning person?

“But, how,” I cleared my throat to control my vocals. I hated when they came out as a meek voice. I wanted a powerful voice, like in the video.  “How’d you get this…my video?”

“I forgot my charger for my laptop back home so I used yours. You still haven’t changed my password,” she gushed, appearing flattered by that.

“Because I didn’t expect you to use it.”

“But still, aren’t you glad I did. You’re famous! Just look at all the views. It’s over two hundred thousand over night. It’s viral,” she nearly sang.

“Uh, no, yeah,” I tried to make sense of my words. Am I happy? Shouldn’t I be upset she invaded my privacy and did this?  “I need to get to school.” I pushed back the chair, and grabbed my bag off the side of the seat and ran for it.

“Whoa sorry.” Travis inched the washroom door backwards, going back into the room. The door--It nearly slammed right in my face.  Too embarrassed to make words, I pressed my lips together and went for the door. 

The moment quickly evaporated from my head, and thoughts of the video began to take its place.

My heart was pounding in my chest. Now everyone knew my feelings—my stomach clenched, I felt like I’ve been invaded. Yet…those comments.

My lips shifted up and down, from a small smile to a neutral expression. Did people at my school see it?

Thoughts like this spun in my head all through the day, as I rode the bus, I wondered if people recognized me, and while I was stepping onto the school property, I searched the area to see if anyone noticed me.

Some did. They smiled at me, and asked me if I was new since they never knew I went to their school before, while others gave me thumbs up and told me I had some talent.

Even my English teacher approached me and told me she expected great things from me in her Writer’s Craft class and looked for the poem I prepared for it. I didn’t get the chance to tell her that was the poem, and my sister did it without me knowing.

“Alana, are you okay?” Josh supported me with his arm, stepping between me and his friends.

I blinked, regaining consciousness of what was happening. I must have zoned out.

“Fine,” I croaked, pulling away. Did Josh see the video? How’ll react? Would he compliment me—what am I saying, he’ll probably hate me for posting the video.

I shifted out of his embrace, and observed the floor tiles. His friends paraded around us, telling Josh they’ll meet up at the field.

“Are you mad?” He asked. “Because I didn’t want to leave you, honest to god, Alana, that’s the last thing I wanted to do, but Sara needed me. You have to understand that? Alana?” I didn’t realize I was holding my breath, and gasped for air. “Look, if Sara and I are on better terms now, so…” he trailed off.

“I told you: fine,” my voice was hoarse.  That was the truth. I didn’t intend to make Josh regret wanting to support Sara. She was his friend, and if I was in her situation, I’d need Josh by my side as well. I just, I don’t know how to explain it. It was the insecure, immature I back there—I couldn’t stop myself from acting like that. “It’s fine.”

“Really?” Josh’s voice softened along with his eyes.  His shoulders lowered—was he nervous? “ That’s good. Actually it’s better than good, It’s really, insanely good.”

“How is she?” I asked, feeling braver by the second. Dealing with that emotion, accepting and understanding it made me feel better—a lot better.

“She’s doing well,” he told me, grinning smugly. “She’ll be back by tonight.”

“That sounds awesome, ” I tried to match my enthusiasm with his, however failing awkwardly, a hesitant response came from Josh.

“It is,” he agreed, peering down at my binders, “want me to walk you to Functions?”

“The bell just rang,” I muttered, my stomach was twisting like I had butterflies in there, making me all giddy. Why’d he have to be so adorable and remember my schedule? “Don’t you have a class to get to?”

“It’s fine.” He started to slip his hands under my binder, his slender fingers ticked along my index finger. “They can survive five seconds without me.”

I gave him a look, twisting one edge of my lip upward, and one eyebrow downward, as to make him rethink his statement. Sure, they could survive without him for five seconds, though it wasn’t them I was concerned about. It was him.

If he showed up late, not only would he need a late slip, he might miss an important lesson, or information.

So as much as I wanted Josh, it was better he didn’t. “I’m not going to be the one corrupting you,” I told him, pulling my binders away from him before he got a good grip of it.  “If you think the class can survive a five seconds of a zombie apocalypse without you, then you are wrong.”

“What?” he scoffed with a smile, trailing beside me. He was dangerously close, probably since he wasn’t—or couldn’t believe what I just said. I said something awkward again to ruin the moment, didn’t I?

“Just go to class. We can talk later. Promise.”

With that said, Josh hooked his pinkie with mine, and brought it to his lips. “Pinkie promise,” his lips brushed along my finger at every syllable. His eyes were staring right into mine.

“Y-yeah,” I managed to say, unable to control my senses.

Joshua

I wasn’t very pleased that Alana didn’t want me to walk her to her class, but I managed to sneak a small kiss and see a small blush appear on her lips before I left for Computer Science.

I strode into the computer lab and took the right corner computer out of habit. It’s been my computer ever since I came to do this school. One more year with it and I’ll be graduating soon, I thought as I logged onto my student account. I tugged on my white magnetic USB bracelet and tucked it into the slot.

The class hadn’t settled in, it doesn’t until probably fifteen minutes pass, or until the Teacher, Mr. Stein says otherwise.

“Hey Grey, you seen the video yet?” Peter sat on out the chair beside me, and logged onto his account.

“Is it funny?” I inquired. I couldn’t focus my full attention towards Peter since I was trying to figure out if I had an assignment to do, or if I did it already.  I came during a weird time due to the whole incident so the teacher extended the assignment deadline for me. It helped but I am expected to catch up to the class after it, so at the end, still had the so-called stress of doing double the work.

I’m say so-called stress since it hasn’t really hit me yet how far back I am. The teacher normally gives two to three weeks to finish the assignment.

“The Vlog is a joke, but  people here have been watching it none stop, wanna know why?”

“It’s viral.”

“No,” he scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Nah, well yeah, Grey it is, though that’s not the only reason. Get this: the girl, in the video, goes to our school, by the name of Alana Martina. You know the crazy chick that like Ricki-man.”

I turned towards him, my eyes narrowed. “What?” I was offended by the way he called Alana a crazy chick—

“Yeah, it’s apparently a poem or something about Ricki. So wanna see it?” He reached forward, over my arm and towards my computer’s mouse, “I think it’s called screwed-over.”

“Dude,” I said, “You sure it’s her?”

He snorted, and slid the keyboard to his direction. “Check it out yourself, Grey. See for yourself.”

I didn’t want to see for myself. A twinge of jealousy and frustration started to build inside me.  Why the hell would Alana talk about Ricki and post it online? Why didn’t she say anything?

“Joshua, since you’re here on time, I can assume I will be seeing  your assignment soon, no?”  A strong Romanian accent boomed in my ear, and I spun my back to face Mr. Stein.

He had thin brown hair sprouting from his head, and a long thin nose, that was framed by an oval shaped-face. “You can be expecting it by the end of this month,” I told him, smiling. It’s best to act confident when a teacher asked about assignments.

Unfortunately, he gave the opposite of the reaction I was expecting.  “Joshua, you know the next assignment is the final one, and there’s a reason why most students started it this month.”

“It has the most marks.” I shrugged, “but it’s not like it’ll have much effect on my marks. If I fail, I’d still pass this course.”

He narrowed his eyes, unsatisfied by my reasoning. “It’s the most difficult because it requires you to be innovative. The assignments I’ve previously assigned were all decided with minimum options. This requires you to think. Apply what you know and if successful, make a difference.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate it, Grey. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how to make mine work, which reminds me: can you help me?” Peter backed up Mr. Stein on the speech.

“I’ll get to it after I finish this one,” I promised, not wanting to continue the conversation.

He seemed skeptical, though didn’t push it. “Mr. Smith also wishes to see you in his office.”

I cringed, remembering Mr. Stein at the intercom when I walked in—so he was talking about me.

“Did he say why?”

“Just requested your presence.”

I exhaled, scratched my head and peered down at the table. I didn’t do anything. Unless, Mr. Smith is getting back at his A-game and is trying to persuade me to stop any potential pranks.

Finally, pushing the chair back and pulled out my USB, I said, “take care of my computer.” I patted Peter’s back, and gave a two-finger salute to the teacher and took my leave.

“Greetings,” I said, striding into the main office, past the secretaries and towards Mr. Smith’s office. “Anyone in the office right now?” I asked, placing a hand on the door knob, and trying to peer through the glass on the doorway.

“Just Alana,” one of them answered. “But he said you’re free to go in during their discussion.”

Alana? Why would she be in there?  I wondered, pushing the door open. Mr. Smith had a warm smile on his face, almost amused by my appearance. I didn’t know what Alana did, though I was pretty sure this was the first time I ever saw Mr.Smith look at me fondly.

Alana was turned her head in my direction, then turned away, pulling on her hair strands and staring at her feet. I sat on the chair beside her, and leaned in her direction, resting my head on an armrest.

“Josh, for once I am very pleased to see you,” he said, pressing his body closer to the edge of the seat.

“So it seems,” I said, grinning. My eyebrows lifted upward slightly then lower, a gesture to emphasis my disbelief, and to note the sarcasm.

He cleared his throat, and scratched the side of his nose. “I’m sure you’ve seen Alana’s video.”

“I’ve heard about it,” my voice sounded cold, stiff. I didn’t know why I was acting like that at all, though something about my impulsive nature unconsciously leaked through me.  Alana stiffened from beside me.

“Josh, the video,” Alana commenced. “It wasn’t directed towards you.”

“So it was meant for Ricki?” Yeah, that was where my tone was coming from, as soon as the thought escaped my lips, I realised my jealousy was taking over me.

I didn’t like the feeling. I wasn’t used to, and I wanted it to leave. I straightened up, and took Alana’s hand in mine. My thumb brushing along her thumb like it was a reassurance that she was mine.

“It’s not about Ricki,” she muttered through her teeth. “I can tell you that much. My sister posted it in her Vlog. She thought it’d be funny...”

“Funny or not, I was just asking Alana if she’d like to perform a spoken word at our next school assembly.”

A smile broke from my lip, revealing my teeth. “That’s great, Alana. More than great, it’s—”

“I don’t know,” she interrupted my praise. She faced me, her wry eyes staring at me. “I can’t do it.”

My smile dimmed. “You have somewhere to be?”

Alana opened her mouth, but didn’t get a chance since Mr.Smith cut her off.

“Josh, some people aren’t as comfortable of being the center of attention like you, and Alana is one of those people.”

“But she’ll be great at it,” I promised. “Just give her the chance. You’ll see.”      

“I knew this would difficult for you to understand, save for I’m not the bad guy here,” Mr. Smith said. “Alana just needs a person to guide her, and prepare you and since you two are close, by...” his gaze fell onto our hands, then shifted upward to meet my eyes. “I thought you could give her some pointers and help her.”

“Of course I would.”

Alana’s fingers tightened around mine.

“Is that okay with you, Alana.”

“Y-yeah,” she couldn’t deny a smile that she somewhat hid behind her hair as she looked at the ground. She slowly lifted her head high. “Thanks.”

It feels awesome to say that neither of us let go of each other as we walked side by side out the office, and into the hallway. I turned to begin my praise to Alana, hoping I’d reach out to her and encourage her—she beat me to it.

Giggling, she spun on her heels, unleashing her fingers from mine and turned to face me and placed her hands on my cheek before planting a kiss on my lips. Her smile grew as our lips brushed out one another.

I reeled her closer to me, holding her by the waist. and kissed her back. My senses were overriding more and more while each second, moment, minute passed.

When we were both breathless, I realised I was caging her with my arms beside her up against a wall.

“So what’s the plan, Alana?” I asked, smirking.

She stared at me, emotionless. Then she tucked her face near my neck, and inhaled. “Can we continue?” she whispered so quietly that I thought I was hallucinating. Yet, I doubted it when I found my lips on hers, and her hands roaming my chest to my shoulders, seeming hesitant on a spot to place them.  I helped her out, by easing her hands around my neck.

I enjoyed being the person, who she showed this side of her. Her introverted-self was cool, and made me feel balanced, however it didn’t compare—no it was only part of the reason why I liked her. I loved the feelings and sensations she brought me, how she made me realise things about myself, and how well she made me feel special.