The Sun, The Moon, and Their Stars

05 : Waltz

Benjamin

My dad is dropping me off at school this morning since he needs to be early at his office. I rest my head back on the seat and close my sleepy eyes for a bit. I don't usually stay up late on school nights, but since last month, I find myself seeking the company of the TV. And again, I lost track of the time last night.

"Benjie," I hear my dad, "we're almost there."

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands while I yawn the rest of the sleep. Dad stops the car in front of the school. I thank him and wave goodbye. I close the door and see Angela flipping her long still-damp hair on her shoulders as she enters the gate. What timing this is.

*

I've had a crush on Angela since Grade Eight when we're not only classmates but also seated next to each other. Of course, I knew even then that she's out of my league. I mean, she does modeling stints in and out of the city, and I'm president of the Math Club. But she's always kind and even talked to me at length about herself. And that included boyfriends and ex-boyfriends, much to my dismay.

There was a time just around the start of high school when a handful of girls from our batch got involved with senior guys like it's a trend. Angela was one of them, and the guy from the basketball varsity team. But he graduated, so in the typical romantic cycle, she moved on to the volleyball varsity player who was only a year ahead of us. But it didn't last long, according to her. By the time that we're seatmates, her boyfriend then was this Jason. He was the number one notorious person in the whole school. Last year, in Grade Nine, she's still with him and two classrooms away from me. I'd still see her, said hello maybe more than a couple of times, but nothing more than that.

So, because I felt a bit invincible earlier this year, I gave her—through Steve, of course—a card last Valentine's Day. It wasn't something fancy or special, just one that I picked from the Hallmark stack at the bookstore. It would've been fine knowing that I tried and got the silent treatment in return, but I had to see the very card that I gave her in the trash can outside near their classroom. It wasn't even discreetly discarded. It was right there in plain sight.

I don't mind having differential equations for breakfast, but I couldn't solve this puzzling thought why someone like Angela—or girls in general—chooses guys who are troublemakers as a common denominator. And I could've been there for her in ways they wouldn't. I thought I did already. But I was, obviously, wrong.

Together with my friends, we did what we usually do in times such as this, we analyzed the situation. And in conclusion, they made some notable remarks:

Jay: She has a boyfriend.

Cap: Maybe she did it to hide it from the boyfriend.

Jay: Yes. And you don't want to get involved with them, the guy and his friends look like goons, seriously.

Daryl: Maybe she just doesn't like you back.

*

It could've been easier if she doesn't randomly pop around to remind me of the weight I felt that afternoon, and with every day that followed. But things don't always agree in my favor. The worst part is that she began to acknowledge my existence once again since this school year started. It's sort of confusing but also nothing out of the ordinary. There was never something between us. Maybe it's just me. Or maybe, I just need to find new ways to not let myself get distracted by her anymore. She doesn't like me like that. End of the story.

I'm still a few meters behind Angela when she disappears around the corner, going to the girls' restroom, I suppose. And I make my way up the stairs, to go through with the day as per usual.