Twice The Trouble

Chapter 45: Sophia's Past

Sophia

*Flashback Two Years Ago*

Dale Cruz was the only transfer student that year, and he was a high school junior like myself.

Being the new kid, he was unfamiliar with everywhere and everyone, so I initiated a talk with him when he was scouring the hallway for his locker number.

As the student body president, I knew who owned which locker, and only one could be his.

"Good Morning," I called out to him as I stood by a row of green lockers, particularly his locker.

Dale--with his ebony-colored hair running down his nape and a pair of hazel green eyes--was nonplussed by my greeting and he stared at me while pointing to himself.

"Good.. morning?" he tentatively replied, lowering his arm to his side.

I flashed him a warm smile before I patted on his green locker---locker no. 242.

He raced his eyes over the paper in his hand before his face clicked with comprehension.

"Welcome to Pines Academy," I told him in a cheerful tone as I watched him approach me.

His locker, to be specific.

"Thanks," he said to me as he pulled open his locker with ease. "Is it that obvious I'm new here?"

I grinned at him. "Not a lot of Filipinos have green eyes."

The black-haired teenager began to arrange some of his textbooks inside his locker.

"Hmm, I suppose not," he mused, slapping a palm over his green locker. He smiled at me.

"How old are you?" I blurted out.

Dale squinted at me. "Sixteen. Why?"

"You don't look sixteen," I remarked.

He laughed. "I'm often told I look fifty."

"Is that so?" I joined in his laughter, and what came next was a wonderful friendship.

A friendship I never thought I would lose by falling in love with him.

It was the little things at first: An affectionate pat on the shoulder, a playful arm nudge. Then, whenever our teachers told us to pair up for a project or activity, he would always look my way.

We would always meet up for lunch, study for tests and quizzes in a vacant classroom, and everyday, he would greet me by the school entrance, then walk me to our first class.

One day, during our Senior Year--our last year in high school--Dale asked me to tutor him since a few of his grades were dropping, and I willingly complied to his request.

"Pie!" That was the moniker he gave me. Pie, short for Sophia.

I spun around and was engulfed in Dale's tight embrace. A deep red blush invaded my cheeks.

"Dale, what---"

"I did it, I passed! And it's all thanks to you," he gratefully told me.

Not wanting him to see my blushing face, I wrapped my arms around him, returning his hug.

"I knew you could do it," I said to him.

He pulled away and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Thanks, Pie."

"Y-you're welcome," I stammered, praying he wouldn't notice my reddened ears.

I was too blinded by my love for him that I overlooked his flaws and made excuses for others.

After that day he pecked my cheek, he started to change. Or perhaps they were his true colors.

He began to avoid me in class, give me feeble alibis during lunchtime, and I no longer saw him standing by the school gates, waiting for me.

The rare moments Dale did spend with me, he asked me for favors--I did his assignments, wrote his papers, and compiled reviewers for him. He treated me less of a friend and more of a slave.

Two days before high school graduation, I decided to confront him about his strange behavior.

I saw Dale walk into the boys' bathroom with a couple of his buddies, so I opted to wait for him.

The white door was left ajar by someone, and without planning to, I eavesdropped on their conversation, catching bits and snippets of their teenage-guy talk through the small gap.

"...You and that Sophia chick are pretty close,huh?" Male #1 asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I gasped upon hearing Dale's harsh tone.

A third voice piped up: "We've been curious about the two of you. Is she your girl now?"

"Of course not," I heard Dale answer. I knew he was right but it still hurt. It still stung.

Male #1 spoke again: "Haven't you noticed how she's head over heels for you, man?"

"It's so fucking obvious," Male #3 agreed. I heard someone turn off a faucet.

"Look," I heard Dale's voice. "She's only a friend. I don't even need her anymore."

I felt my hands tremble and my knees go weak. Everything became so blurry and watery.

Male #1 asked him: "What do you mean, bro?"

"I was just using her so I could get high marks," I heard Dale answer. "I'm good now."

No,you're not! I wanted to yell at him. He was bad--he was the worst. And I hated him.

I removed my oval glasses from my face and used the back of my hand to wipe off my tears.

He used me? I was just a pawn to him all this time?

Male #3 let out a low whistle. "That's cold, man."

I heard Dale's familiar sigh. "Whatever ,dude. My parents threatened to disown me if I failed to graduate from high school, so I had to take drastic measures."

Before I could hear any more of his hurtful words, I broke into a run, sprinting out of the school and hailing a jeep home, where I cried myself to sleep that night.

It was only after we received our diplomas on Graduation Day did I muster the nerve to confront him for real this time.

"Dale," I called out to him as I approached him in an isolated hallway.

We were both still dressed in a white cap and white and green ceremonial toga.

The tall, black-haired graduate stiffened when he saw me. He looked ready to escape.

He remained silent.

"Was it really all a lie? From the start?" I tearfully asked him. "Everything you said.. everything you did..." My bottom lip quivered. "..all of it?" I finished with a tremor in my voice.

"It's your fault for being tricked," Dale told me. "I mean, how desperate for a man are you?"

My brown eyes grew wide behind my oval glasses.

"I say a few nice things and you fall right for me," he went on.

My fingers were shaking against my sides as a waterfall of tears slid down my cheeks.

"I'd never go for a girl as cheap as you."

He turned on his heel and descended the staircase, abandoning me with a broken heart.