I Do, Don't I?

Chapter Seven

"Rachel?" a voice from the dark called tenderly.

     Then, the scene came into view.

     "Come on, Rachel," a woman in her late thirties urged on gently, sitting on what looked like a teacher's desk, waiting for little Rachel standing in front of the room with a piece of paper.  She glanced behind her teacher with a worried look.

     "You can do it," the brunette woman smiled encouragingly.

     Rachel made a tentative glance at her audience, waiting for her expectantly.  All of a sudden, their expression changed into somewhat a disgusted look and some have started covering their noses.  A mean-looking blond girl pointed at me and shouted, "Mrs. Wheeling!  She pooped in her pants!"

     Then, everybody laughed.

     Without any doubt, I'm guessing this is the second grade.

     The scene turned black.

     A distant sound of cheering became distinct, beneath the noise, mom's shrill voice stood out.

     "Go, Rachel!"

     Followed by dad's.  "Come on, Rachel!  You can do it!"

     The scene faded into clear view.

     The gym was partly filled with supportive parents and girls in miniskirts and jogging pants.  Their hairs were all tied into a ponytail similar to Rachel's.  Just like the scene earlier, everyone was waiting for me expectantly.  Everyone was cheering on little Rachel except for the three judges with blank looks and the three girls who are smirking with delight on Rachel's humiliation.

     One of them was the blond girl who announced her bowel disgrace earlier in class.

     I could feel Rachel's anger bubbling, desperately wanting to prove Blondie that she can do it.  Out of the blue, Rachel broke her steady figure into what looked like a mash of hip-hop and ballet.

     Goodness!  Please don't even bother to ask me to describe.  And from the looks of it, there's no doubt that I won't get in the team.

     The next couple of hours have been nothing but a plain black sheet...

     "Good morning," a murmur caressed my ear.

     A smile crept to my lips.  "Mmm..."

     "Breakfast is ready," he whispered in a seductive tone.

     At his words, the scent of what smelled like toasts and pancakes filled the room that sent my lids flying open.  I sat up slowly, making sure I've rubbed off any morning glory at the corner of my eyes before turning to Jude.

     "Hi," I greeted, quite conscious of how my breath smells, considering how it tastes.  I smiled my best and tried to ignore the awkward thought of how I looked like.

     Come to think of it, I don't even know how I look like.

     Mental note: see mirror later.

     "I brought you breakfast in bed," he said, motioning to the wooden tray on his bedside table.

     "It smells delicious," I said with a subtle smile.

     He sat up on the edge of the bed from his pose earlier with his elbow propped to hold his slim figure up.  He lifted the tray on to the white sheets.  We shared an intimate exchange of bites until we finished the stack of pancakes overflowing with maple syrup and melted butter, two pieces of tiny Belgian chocolates and two cups of coffee.