❝she was the girl, who bit the horizon, who peeled the stars from the sky and put them on her tongue, the girl who was hungry for the universe, who craved magic and saw the broken boy for who he truly was- a broken boy.❞
Beca...
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Chapter 47
Worst Day Of My Life
Ellis
It was bad, to say the least.
I could tell the voice behind the video was Jem's voice- it was Jem, undoubtedly. The whole video went onto explaining how Heather left Jem and his dad all alone in Philadelphia, showing family images of Jem and his family, except his mother's face had been disfigured, ruined with red scribbles all over it and horns drawn on her head. Everybody began to speculate by whispering furiously amongst the crowd, their sounds were mostly shocked, mildly horrified. The women put their lips to each other's ears and their hands over their mouth to block eavesdroppers from listening to it but there's no need for a translation to figure out who or what they were talking about. The men have suddenly spurred out of this glazed boredom most guys have when they're stuck in a wedding they were made to come to because their wife or girlfriend dragged them along in the promise of free food.
"Um, er-" The MC was floundering, practically stumbling on the live mic. "This is all just a misunderstanding. I am very sure..." He was scanning the room frantically for the hotel's workers to cut the PA system off but none of it was happening, nobody was rushing to shut down the projector's and tear out the screen- everybody was just frozen like they were statues who had been petrified into stone by Medusa.
Basically, it was a trainwreck unfolding right in front of me.
The voice distortion, the badly edited images woke up some of my worst memories that I've been trying to repress for so long, plopping me straight back into eighth grade when I had to do a Ted Talk as a project for social studies on the subject of urbanisation.
It was the worst day of my life and it was all because of none other than Jem Leighton.
-
Three years ago. Eight Grade.
"Okay, everybody, settle down in your seats. Mikayla, you can't eat in a classroom and Heath- for the sake of everybody's sanity, can you please not put Caleb's pencil case on your crotch area to explain how a creampie works to Astrid and Tabitha, if you roll up your skirt any shorter, I swear to God, it'll become underwear and for all of you, will you sit down and shut up?"
Our eighth-grade social studies teacher, Mr Dillon, was trying to gain order amongst the chaos that was the classroom after lunch- a rather impossible task. Unlike the rest of my vapid, stupid peers, I was already seated in my chair, posture straight and neck tilted up, with my pens laid out in front of me, according to importance. So it was a blue pen on my right, followed by a black pen in case there was a change of subject to create variety in my notes, a highlighter to enhance any terms and definitions, a correction pen for mistakes (it wasn't the second most important because I didn't usually make mistakes in my notes- for goodness sake, I was after all Ellis Chan and I was infamously known for being a rather scrupulous editor), pencil for sketching and an eraser for the mistakes made with the pencil. My books were also set out in a gradient of colour, ranging from yellow to blue, and my USB containing our most recent project- my TedTalk- was just by my highlighter, ready to be booted up on the teacher's computer and definitely ready to receive my well-deserved A.
