Crazy is the Name of My Game

( 1 ) I'm a fighter.

Erica Santos

"Uhm, I r-really like you... c-can we... you know?" The Chinese guy gulped audibly, his whole frame shaking. "Us... g-go-go out?"

This had happened too often that I almost didn't feel sorry for the victims anymore.

He repeated his stuttering, probably thinking I didn't understand him the first time. "C-Can we... g-go out? Please."

I glanced at him from the corners of my eyes, more like glared actually, but didn't let go of the small book I was reading. I wouldn't put down my beloved Heathcliff and Cathy for the sake of the lanky guy beside me... What's his name again? Fred? Bred? Greg?

"C-Come on, Erica." His pleading black-brown eyes stared at me, restless as the whole cafeteria crowd watched us. He kept on fidgeting while beads of sweat trickled down his chin. "You are... you're hurting my ego."

"I'm not doing anything," I responded nonchalantly, reluctantly pulling my attention away from Wuthering Heights. I crossed my arms after putting my little treasure back in my bag. He looked at me like I might literally bite him. And I haven't even done anything to scare him silly... Well, not yet.

"Y-yeah - " He was pale and green, which reminded me...

"It's Jason Greene, isn't it?" I asked, my voice lower than usual. "Did he threaten to dunk you in the toilet?"

His eyes widened, his brows creased. I could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest. I sighed.

Sheesh, men are so easy to read. It's almost a crime.

"That guy never learned," I sighed. With that, I stood up and slung my backpack on my left shoulder, casually hitting the four-eyed Chinese in the head.

"Ow," I heard him mutter as I marched towards the biggest jerk in the whole history of high school. Because he was tall, the star athlete and the son of a school director, he thought the world revolved around him. An understatement, actually. He believed the entire universe revolved around him.

Stupid jerk.

He would have been a perfect villain for the novel I was writing, but I didn't want any part of him to spoil my story. It was blasphemy. The darkest, blackest kind of corruption.

Bleh.

I spotted him, the man impossible to miss. He towered over the other students even while sitting, and his electric blue hair stood out in the crowd. He had this kind of stormy, blue eyes that went along with his hair, and when he saw me approaching, they brightened.

As a greeting, I punched him in the jaw. Nice. That would probably leave a mark. The one I gave him last time hadn't fully faded either.

"What are you up to now, stupid?" I asked in my calm, bell-like voice. The irony made the threat sound more dangerous. "Aren't you tired? I am."

"I'm NOT stupid," he retorted as he glowered at me, his hand rubbing my newly-inflicted injury.

I laughed without humor, the only sound in the tensed lunch room.

"What's funny, Santos?"

"You."

I could feel the expectant stares from all directions. Their thoughts were almost palpable. Fight, fight, fight! they said. A student from a nearby table tossed a roll of money towards a smug-looking senior. Probably betting on what's gonna happen. Again. Really, this had been droning on every single day. Hadn't Greene gotten sick of it yet?

"You broke another heart again. Tsk tsk. What a bad girl."

"How many times have I been hearing that?"

He might've thought that he appeared intimidating, but I knew better than to be frightened by the difference in our size or by the number of his underlings. Funny that I've been only in this country private school for a week and I made myself quite popular.

"Aren't you happy I'm forcing boys to you? You should be grateful. I'm just worried that you're going to be single and alone for eternity."

I'm going to kill this guy!

I smiled like a cherub, fluttering my eyelids in a demure manner. "Humor me, can you kindly disappear? I'm so sick of seeing blue."

He knew what I meant. It was funny how he's addicted to that color. He looked like a circus clown dipped into a bucket of dye. I wouldn't be surprised if he would paint his nails blue too. Was this his idea of being a rebel and a jock?

"Challenging me to war?" he hissed. The Barbie bimbos and the hormonal teenagers sitting with him started butting in.

"Oh no," I frowned innocently, taking a deliberate backward step. "Of course not. I ain't gonna say that. You're suited enough to lead this jungle empire. I don't wanna see it fall."

I grinned conspirationally. Oh gosh. Did I just wave a red flag in front of the bull?

I knew my words were enough to enrage even a sunny day, and if only I keep my mouth shut and zipper it for good, I could evade all this trouble. But my smart mouth kept on talking nonetheless. "And besides, why do you keep on bothering me? What, you're too bored to do something meaningful with your life, stupid?"

He was about to grab me, but I ducked just in time. His huge hand merely touched the loose ends of my silky black braids.

Coincidentally, my foot tripped a walking sophomore, making him spill his spaghetti on Jason's head, the red sauce staining his white shirt too. And did I mention that he never wore the school uniform? Cocky brat.

"You'll pay for this!"

If looks could kill, I might be long dead.

I technically danced my way out as I avoided the scraps of food they threw at me. Once, Barbie bimbo#1 hauled the plastic tray to me, missing me by a foot.

"More practice guys!" I shouted. "Not even a scratch! Or a stain!"

I might be rude and immature or insensitive, whatever you like, but not even my pride or society could stop me from fighting back. Why should I keep a low profile? Why should I follow the rules of social cliques? Why should I not do things I think is right? Was my life to be dictated by people around me who knew nothing but partying and flirting?

I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

This was one of the things I didn't look forward to when I transferred to this school. American schools are so... unfriendly. Discrimination was one unspoken rule that governed them all.

What they saw in me was not who I am as a person, but who I am as they branded me. I might be small and fragile-looking, but I was a menace unleashed. I hated it when people underestimated me.

My watch said that I still have less than an hour left before the bell rings. More time than I needed to cool off. Good. I marched out of the building without a second glance.

I sighed in relief once I reached my sanctuary, a little hidden place in the humongous school garden. In here, I could read and write undisturbed. I felt oddly relaxed that for a moment I thought I was asleep. It was exhausting, actually, to stay with people. I hated it when I had to pretend for them. It takes too much energy to act happy when I'm not. I preferred sitting alone. At least I could be myself.

As I watched the clouds ambled in the sky, as the noisy sparrows chattered in the branches of the giant oak tree, as the wind whispered eerily into my ears, I allowed my mind to wander. To relax. I recalled my strange dream last night. The shifty images at the back of my mind seemed surreal. But I knew the message it conveyed, and that was what's important.

I closed my eyes. Inspiration was easy to achieve when the writer is at peace. Now, I knew how I would start my latest novel.

Survival? the main character should say with conviction. I don't want to survive. I don't want to just exist. I want to live. I want to grow. I want to see. Life is beautiful... and in every little way, I would prove to you this is true.