Remember, All Too Well

CHAPTER THREE

A month into the second semester, Mrs. Wutherford looked a bit more cheerful than usual. Her bright red hair was curled into a bun while she wore her favorite light-colored sweater, which contrasted the dark brown dress whose length reached almost to her sandy-brown flip-flops. Her wide eyes looked at us, and I noticed the wrinkles near them. A couple of white strands highlighted parts of her hair. I could tell she was pretty when she's younger.

She almost smiled as she said the words with a tone of excitement in her voice. "There's a short story writing competition coming up next month. Whoever wants to join can submit their piece before or on August 3rd. The theme is love. Be ready to break hearts."

A burst of soft laughter filled the classroom. But as soon as she hit her book on the desk, everyone fell silent.

"Okay, now let's talk about how Heathcliff felt when Catherine died. Does anyone want to talk about what they think of that scene?"

Everyone didn't bother to raise their hands. All in my mind was the competition, but then I remembered how my uncle hated my writing so much that he threw it in the trash.

"How many times have I told you to stop writing? You'll have no future in being a writer!"

I kept crying. "But it's my dream."

His gaze became colder and his voice harsher. "Dreams are for nitwits. You'll never be successful. Your stories aren't even close to good."

"You never read them."

He shook his head and shouted, which made me cry even more. "I don't have to! I just know!"

Then, I remembered the one time I blissfully wrote my new story in my notebook during school break, when my schoolmate, Niya, took my notebook by force.

"Hey! Give it back!" I tried to take it away from her hands, but she moved it up. She's way taller than me. I couldn't reach it.

When she read the prologue, she started laughing in mockery. "How cheesy! No one will like this! This is such a stupid story."

She threw my notebook beside me, and as soon as she left laughing, her friends were quiet.

I picked it up. Remembering her words made me cry as I held the notebook close to my heart.

~*~*~*~

The school bell rang, and the sad memories faded away. I wasn't listening the whole time; frowning, I was caught off guard when our professor told us, "You have a test tomorrow regarding what we discussed today about Wuthering Heights."

I could see the quiet protest of my classmates, shaking my head, frowning even more.

"Class is dismissed."

It surprised me when I saw Jay over the corner laughing and fist-bumping with my older guy classmates, who I never talked to.

As I gazed at him, his eyes caught me staring. A playful grin on his lips made me want to vanish, feeling embarrassed. I slowly looked away and acted like it was nothing, and I wasn't staring at him earlier.

I glanced and again, his eyes were on me, smiling while his friends were talking to him. He waved his hand. In return, I rolled my eyes and followed my other classmates, who were leaving the classroom.

Walking out of the room, passing down a small stairway, I went to stay under the shed of a maple tree. The wind was cooling my face. I placed my books and my backpack on the grass while I took my red notebook. That's when I wrote a story, keeping in mind the theme of love. As the hour passed, I poured my heart into what I've written, but then as soon as I completed it and wrote: The End, I sighed; tearing up the two pages, crumpling, and threw them in the trashcan nearby.

As I stood up and slung my backpack on my shoulders with my books in my hands, my eyes caught Jay from a distance, looking at me with those expressive eyes of his. Before I'd end up gazing at him again, I looked away and headed to my dorm, listening to the crunching sounds my shoe made whenever I stepped on the fallen autumn leaves scattered on the pavement.