Unexpectedly*THREE

Prologue

The summation of all the forces acting on one—

                CRASH!

                I winced. There goes the second antique vase, probably broken in pieces downstairs. Mom would kill Jake once she gets home. Jake will definitely be in a whole lot of trouble because of this stupid party downstairs. Music blared loudly downstairs, making it impossible to study for my Physics exam tomorrow.

If I fail that exam, Jake will die by my own hands, I mean, why wasn’t I blessed with a brother who didn’t throw parties twice a week? On school days? Life is so unfair. He’s younger than me, but he never listens, so what was the point of being someone who could boss him around?

With my brother acting childishly downstairs, I had to at least be mature enough. One of us being the  child is enough trouble as it is. I looked at my Physics book again.

The summation of all the forces—

                The door banged open. I bolted upright, eyes wide. On the doorway, a couple was making out. Like, really making out. With actual tongue interaction. “What the hell?” I asked.

They broke apart. Both of them looked really, really wasted. And they were a mess. With smudges of daredevil red lipstick all over their faces (even the guy). Eww. They must have been making out right in front of my room since the break of dawn.

Disgusting.

“Get. Out.”

They froze. And laughed. The girl (who looked everything like a prostitute, only younger) laughed at me. “Looks like somebody needs a good time.”

I stood up. I must have looked intimidating (even in my favorite bunny bedroom slippers and blue, PJ’s with cute yellow ducks), because they actually cowered a little.

“I said”—I shot both of them my best glare—“Get out. Now.

They froze, left, and muttered under their breaths about me being a killjoy.

I sighed in grief. My brother throwing a party at a school day? That, I could handle. People making out and attempting to do who-knows-what in my room? That, unfortunately to my brother, is a direct death sentence from me.

Still in my PJ’s, I closed my room and stomped down the stairs. With every step, the music got louder.

Chaos. That’s the only word that could describe what happened to our house. It smelled disgustingly like beer and sweat. It was so hot and sticky and yucky. And then the noise—that was worse. People chatting, people shouting, people shouting as they were chatting, the metal music my brother was addicted to. It was head-pounding.

I scanned the chaotic scene around me (no thanks to my brother). Sure enough, my mother’s antique ceramic vases were in pieces in my father’s favorite vintage carpet. I turned away and looked for my brother.

I found him. In the kitchen, surrounded by a crowd. They’re obviously emptying the snack box. Or the refrigerator. They were laughing loudly.

My brother’s a varsity player. Basketball. His teammates were his crowd. Older than him, younger than him. They’re all a part of the crowd he loves to be in.

The moment he spotted me, his smile faded. The rest of his friends stopped and looked at me. He was eating a mouthful of chocolate (oh, my gosh, is that my Toblerone? It better not be!) when he saw me, so when his mouth dropped open, it looked like a muddy slope.

Another yuck.

                “Ew. Close your mouth.”

He did.

“You said you’d have a few friends over. Few. Not the whole country!” I yelled at him.

He gulped. But then he spotted his friends, who have always been stuck-up, obnoxious, and too self-confident, he did something worse. He attempted at a shot of coolness. “I only said I’d have a few of my friends over. I didn’t say they wouldn’t bring theirs.” And he smirked. At me.

I stepped on his foot. Hard.

He yelled. “What the hell?” He was scowling.

“Make everyone leave now.” I crossed my arms over my chest. Unless he wants to feel the wrath of my bunny bedroom slippers, he badly needs to shut up. “And I mean, now. Not—”

“Whew. Who brought the killjoy?” A smooth, almost-bored voice drawled.

I turned to the doorway. There he was, standing like he owned the place, leaning against one side of the doorway. He raised an eyebrow.

“In very cute PJ’s too.” He looked right into my eyes as he mocked me. A hint of his smirk was playing on his lips.

“Who let the—the—dirthead in my house?” Wow. Seriously, “dirthead”? Could I be more lame?

“That’s really matured.” Camden Sun rolled his eyes. He was looking at my pajamas. If he even says a word about my favorite duck-printed PJ’s, it would be the start of the third world war. “Of course, that’s expected of a girl in those PJ’s,” he noted.

My face flushed. Not because I was blushing or anything. In fact, I was infuriated. I looked at him and sent him a scowl. “Do not make fun of me.”

Camden Sun. The biggest jerk in Northway High. The basketball team’s MVP. The biggest stuck-up ever to walk the earth. The person I hate the most.

“Did I hurt your pretty little girl feelings?” He was mocking me. Like always.

I made a face. “Oh, don’t you always do? It’s the only thing you could do to girls. Hurt their feelings.” With a cold glare, I turned back to Jake.

Jake. My brother, friends with Camden. It’s the scariest thought in the whole world. “You. Make sure no one else is here in thirty minutes, or I’m calling Mom.”

He nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck.

I turned my back on him and began to make my way to the door, where—unfortunately—Cam stood. He blocked the doorway.

“Where are you going?”

“Why are you asking? Interested in me?” I asked him.

He casually leaned over… and actually sniffed. “Strawberry shampoo? Too bad you already had a shower. I was thinking of offering you one.”

“Yeah, right. Like I would even—” I shrieked.

The cold liquid poured down from my head to my feet. I gagged, my mouth wide open. Cam was laughing his head off.

“Dude, lay off her.” Jake warned. I’m guessing he knows who’s going to pay for Cam’s behavior later when everyone leaves.

“Guess you need another shower,” Cam told me. “And a new pair of pajamas.”

I looked down at the general area where he was looking at. My eyes widened. Oh. My. Gosh. I’m going to kill him. I’m really going to kill him. Right here. Right now. I’m going to shred him to tiny little Camden Sun pieces. I’m going to tear him apart, limb by limb—

Something warm landed on my shoulders. I looked up, almost surprised. “Where’s your bedroom?”

His jacket was on me, covering the wet part of my top (which clung to my figure instantly). I didn’t really know him, but he was familiar to me by face. I know he hangs out with Cam and Jake too (otherwise he won’t be here, if that wasn’t obvious), but I didn’t really know his name.

“I, uhh, thanks,” I muttered. “I can manage. I’ll just… bring your jacket down after I change.”

He nodded. “Sure.” He smiled shortly before I began to leave. When my eyes met Cam’s, he was staring hard at me. I smirked and murmured, “Jealous much?” as I walked past him, but no one else heard me.

He scoffed. “Right. Keep dreaming.”

Chapter One- That Brief Moment of Connection

Okay. Three words. My. Life. Sucks.

I banged my head against my locker lightly, holding my Physics exam. Like the rest of my exams in Physics, there was a big fat D scribbled in red marker at the top right corner. I’m definitely failing that class, thanks to my brother (okay, so maybe it’s not entirely his fault, but still…) I groaned inwardly and peeled myself away from the metal locker.

Not even the lockers would cheer me up. They’re a dull gray. Dull, boring gray. Why couldn’t they paint the lockers green? Or anything remotely cheerful? It sucks the life away from the yellow walls of the school corridors.

I opened my locker with the code I had this year. I deposited my stuff inside. When I closed the door, Eadrine’s face was there.

I smiled. “Hi.”

Eadrine watched me. “You’re not going to explain anything? Anything at all?”

I did not like the sound of that. Was there something wrong? I mean, I haven’t talked to him in three weeks (because he was out of school, sick with pneumonia. But his mother was too worried and they let him stay in the hospital just to make sure he doesn’t have the west nile virus), so what could I have done that needed explaining?

“What do you mean?” I hugged my books close to me.

Eadrine is the school paper’s editor in chief. He’s in charge of our paper, Gravity. He generally likes me, and I generally like him too. I don’t think I’ve done anything that could have pissed me off.

“You haven’t passed anything in three weeks, Shea. How could you suddenly slack off like that? You know that the first printing is this Friday. You did not pass anything while I was absent.”

I blinked. “What?” The words he told me barely registered. Bewildered, I looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the universe. “Don’t make fun of me. You know I passed six articles.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t.”

My jaw went slack. What did he just say? Did he just tell me that I didn’t pass my articles? That—was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my entire seventeen years of existence. He must be kidding me. Writing is the only thing that makes my life bearable. My spot as the feature editor was by-far the most important thing.

“I did. Ask Shelby.” I raised my voice, making a few heads turn to me as students passed.

He looked puzzled. “What does Shelby have to do with this?”

Shelby’s his girlfriend. She’s not the brightest girl around, but she was nice in her own way. But what I do know is that fact that she’s just tolerating me. She thinks I like Eadrine.

“She told me that you asked her collect my works,” I said. “You did ask her, right?”

He blinked and slowly shook his head. This was news to him too. “I didn’t.”

My mouth dropped open. Did Shelby actually hide my articles? Did she make sure that Eadrine doesn’t get them? Was this on purpose to get me kicked out?

“You don’t think…” he began, starting to look pale and sick.

But I knew it would break his heart if he finds out that she doesn’t trust him completely. So I shook my head. “No. That’s ridiculous. Of course not.” But my head was shouting all sorts of stuff. “Shelby wouldn’t do anything like that.”

He nodded, the color returning back to his face.

“But believe it or not, I passed six articles to her. I still have some copies though. I can still pass them, right?”

He stopped abruptly. “Well…” He scratched the back of his head. “The layout work is finished. And Francine had to do a rushed job to cover your column.”

My mouth dropped open. He was seriously considering printing this month’s paper without any of my works. That’s just like telling me to die. “You can’t be serious. I mean, the editing’s quick and—” I broke off when I saw the expression on his face. “Are you serious?”

He nodded.

“I’ll have to demote you—”

“You can’t! It wasn’t my fault that your girlfriend might have lost my articles!” I carefully chose my words. If I didn’t, I would have shouted stuff that would make him hate me ‘till the day I die.

He pondered for a moment, considering this.

“Eadrine, you know I need this. You know how important this is to me.”

Nodding, he said, “I do.”

I was filled with hope. Who knows? Maybe he could still squeeze in an article I wrote. “So, I’ll give you the files—”

“No.”

I stopped, stunned.

“But I have an idea.”

“And would this idea guarantee me a column in this month’s paper?” I eyed him. He nodded, holding his breath. “Then spill.”

He smiled a little. “But if I tell you, then you have to do it. There’s no going back, because that would make everything pointless.”

“What?” I asked tentatively.

“If you agree to it, there’s no going back. Deal?” He repeated, sounding serious.

I looked at him carefully. What was I supposed to say? What if it also guarantees me a life of shame in school? Oh, gosh, he’s not asking me something virtually impossible, is he? What if it’s something worse than not having a column in the paper?

No. There’s nothing worse than not having a column. Nothing. So I leveled my gaze with his and replied. “Deal.”

There was a time in my life when nothing was too messed up. I guess that just disappeared into nothingness. Now, my life is honestly falling to pieces. I especially did not expect that the deal I made with Eadrine could make my life, if possible, much, much worse.

So basically, I’m flunking my Physics class, and now I have to agree with the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard. That sucks. It really does.

So when lunch came, I didn’t have second thoughts when I approached Shelby. When I got to their table, her friends fell silent. They’re a year younger than me, so I’m not really surprised if none of them knows who I am.

“Hey, Shelby? Can I talk to you?”

She paled almost instantly. Guilty, I thought. She’s half the reason my life is currently in this state. She stood up, and before I could even say anything, she was talking as we made our way across the cafeteria.

“I swear, it wasn’t my fault. He made me do it,” she confessed before I even uttered one word.

I looked at her like she was crazy. “What?”

She started talking but all I heard was a fast succession of blah, blah, blah. I held her shoulder. “Breathe,” I told her. She nodded wildly and she started to breathe. “Now, speak slowly. I didn’t catch anything.”

Shelby peered at me. “I… I didn’t want to do it. Well, at first I did. But then I didn’t anymore. But someone made me do it.”

“Do what? Hide my articles?”

She nodded and bit her lip, never once meeting my gaze.

“Who is he?”

She stared at me in horror and shook her head. “I… I can’t tell you.”

“Yes, you can,” I said gently. Kindly. Even if I wanted to shout. It’s just that, when you live with your idiotic brother, it’s very important to keep a hold on your feelings. I had much practice ever since the day he was born.

She shook her head, eyes wide. “I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“Shelbs…” I pleaded.

I had to at least know the root cause of my stress. If I suddenly look like a fifty year-old lady next week, I won’t even be surprised. I mean, my Mom’s going to flip when she finds out that I’m dangerously teetering on a cliff with my spot in the school paper, and my father finding out about my possible Physics GPA is a guaranteed four-hour lecture (or five, if he’s in a foul mood). I didn’t need anyone sabotaging the rest of my life.

“It’s Camden Sun,” she answered after a long moment of silence.

And for some reason, I wasn’t surprised. No, I wasn’t surprised at all.

Just angry. And frustrated. And even excited.

Let’s see what he’ll do when his life falls apart. Shelby excused herself immediately and shyly went back to her friends. From where I stood, I saw my little brother laughing along with Cam. Almost as if he knew I was looking, his gaze fell on me. Our eyes locked. There was a brief moment of connection there. One that said Oh look, there’s that idiot or God, my day’s already ruined.

He smirked, I scowled (it’s out favorite pastime, if it wasn’t obvious).  It has always been this way ever since the day we met. It’s just our usual routine. But there’s something unusual going on in my head at that moment. I was thinking of getting back at him.

And I’m making sure he gets what he deserves.

Chapter Two- The Boy Who Drew

“You’re taking this seriously.” Eadrine watched me carefully. What he said didn’t even sound like a statement. It sounded more like a question. “You’re really going to be a phantom writer? And… you already thought of a pen name, and you’ve already started making plans. Just earlier, you swore you didn’t want to do it.”

I rolled my eyes. “When did I say that?” I feigned innocence, batting my eyelashes at him. It was dismissal. Jake is probably out there having basketball practice. I’m currently with Eadrine in the club room that served as our work space. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to turn down that amazing suggestion from our editor-in-chief, now, do I?” There was a faint hint of sarcasm with my words.

He blinked. “What’s gotten into you?”

Oh, nothing. Just seeking revenge. And this is how I plan to do it. I’m accepting Eadrine’s offer, wherein I could become a phantom writer no one would know of (other than us) who would write all sorts of stuff about students and school. I’ll be writing a gossip column. That’s one way to put it. But no one will know who I am. So if I sabotage Cam’s life, he won’t know right away that it’s me.

And the best part? If Cam didn’t even hide my articles in the first place, I wouldn’t have gotten this opportunity. He dug his own grave.

And he better be ready for it.

                “Seriously.” Eadrine shook his head. “So, your column will be on the front page. It won’t be too big, but the article would be continued somewhere in page seven. The only page people ever look at is the front page. Maybe if they see your column, they’d get intrigued enough to read the continuation.”

I nodded. “Right.”

“And your pen name, as you suggested, is—”

“Night Moon,” I supplied for him. The moon is like the counterpart of the sun. Night Moon will definitely be Camden Sun’s worst nightmare.

He’ll see. He planned sabotaging my life? Too bad his plan backfired. He’ll see. And one day, he would realize just how small his brain is for him to decide messing with me. And besides, I still haven’t forgotten last night, when he poured down his drink on me. In front of everyone.

This will be easy. The whole school will know about it, but they won’t know who Night Moon is.

I looked at Eadrine. “You can’t tell anyone. Even Shelby. Especially Shelby. This is just between the two of us.”

Eadrine smiled casually, offered his hand and said, “I like that. Deal.”

“So, when can I submit the first article?” I asked him.

“Well, the printing’s this Friday. I’ll be expecting it on Thursday. Is two days enough?” he asked me.

I smiled. “Oh, it’s fine.”

“Look who decided to show up,” Camden’s smug voice welcomed me, two seconds after I entered the gym.

I smiled sweetly at him. “Missed me, sweetie?”

He laughed. It was loud and mocking. “Yeah, sure I did. You know I can’t get tired of that pretty face of yours.” I stopped, because he actually sounded half-serious.

Ridiculous, I told myself. Absolutely ridiculous.

“I’m sure you can’t,” I replied. “Too bad I didn’t come here for you. Where’s Jake?”

He stepped closer. “Ouch. Well, that stings.”

“Great.” I grinned cheerfully at him. I sidestepped him and looked for my brother. Practice is over. They’re just chilling out, sitting on the polished gym floors, eating potato chips and all.

“I actually like the wet pajama look better,” Cam called from behind me.

Keep calm. Keep calm. You’ll get revenge soon. Yeah, that’s right. Soon. Definitely soon. I walked on, ignoring him.

Jake saw me and grimaced. Great. Now the brainless Cam is rubbing off on my brother. “What are you doing here?”

I gave him my sweetest smile. “Aww, how cute, lil bro. Don’t I just love the way you despise having me near?”

He rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. He is definitely becoming a (horrifying) Camden Sun clone. A nightmare. An absolute nightmare. “What do you want?”

“A ride. It’s Tuesday. Your turn to drive.” I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling like a bossy big sister (which, I realized, I was).

A door banged open.

“Hey, guys! Where’d you put the—” He stopped. My eyes bulged out of their sockets. Oh, my gosh. My eyes just lost half of their virginity.

From where I stood, ten yards away, was the guy who lent me the jacket last night on the party, Blake. He was standing there, yelling at the guys when he saw me, a white towel wrapped around the lower part of his body. I yelped a little too late before I turned around, palms over my eyes, and walked as fast as I could, my face probably burning a bright shade of red.

I bumped into somebody. I opened my eyes. Sure enough, who else would it be?

“Smooth.” He chuckled. “Real smooth, Collins.”

I groaned. “Shut up. Move out!” And I pushed past him.

He was laughing right behind me, and I knew the rest of the guys were laughing too. I give up. My brother’s unrecognizable. He’s probably turning into some alienated freak with the same genetic code as Cam. Yes, it must be a contagious thing. The genetic program of some freaky guy (a.k.a Dirthead, if it wasn’t obvious) probably jumps and infects the genetic programs of the other guys, messing up their genes and all.

Blake’s the only different guy here. Honestly. Even if he did step out of the gym locker rooms in nothing but a towel to cover the unnecessary parts, it wasn’t his fault. I mean, he couldn’t have known I was there in the first place. At least he’s not some psychotic freak who dumps his drink on some innocent girl.

Which reminds me of my plan for today about Night Moon’s column. Oh, how I hope it gets as worst as could ever get for him.

I still have to wait for Jake, so I stayed in the library instead and booted up my laptop. There’s a wireless connection in the library, and if you ask kindly, the librarian will connect you. The moment I entered, Miss Lorelie just smiled, took my laptop, entered the password, and gave it back to me with a kind smile.

The library’s like my own second bedroom in school. First, because I can read as many books as I want. Second, because there’s free internet and I can totally write an article while I’m waiting here. Third, Camden never—ever—goes here.

I don’t really know what’s up between us. Well, okay, so maybe I do.

There was one time when I was in fourth grade (the only time I was in the same section as him, because that’s the only time he ever got in the first section), we were seated next to each other. No, he wasn’t a jerk. Not yet.

He was actually quiet (yeah, unbelievable, I know) back then, and he always drew things in his notebook. I took a peek one day, and he was drawing a house with his crayons. You know those old school drawings that little kids draw randomly? He was drawing one of those. And stick people were in front of the house. One woman, I presume, and him. I think he drew himself smaller than the woman, so I automatically knew it was her mom.

When I asked him what it meant, he started talking. And the next day, he showed me his new drawing. And then as days passed by, we actually had some fun talking to each other. But we weren’t that close.

In middle school, that’s when things happened.

He changed. A lot. And suddenly there was none of that boy who drew anymore. None of the boy who talked to me. When I tried talking to him again (in front of his new friends), you know what he did?

He freaking flipped my skirt. In front of his friends. And he laughed. And from that day on, I started to despise him.

Trust me, I still don’t know what’s wrong with his head. And all of a sudden he was changing too fast. Now we’re on our senior year. And he never changed back. He might have become worse (shudder).

The boy who drew never came back again.

It’s been thirty minutes, and Jake still hasn’t called me. I guess they’re still knocking themselves out with those potato chips.

I was browsing the net for my paper in Literature when a Yahoo! chatbox suddenly popped up. And all of a sudden, hearing that pop-up sound, seeing that smiley face, I knew what I was about to do to start ruining his life.

Let the games begin.

 

Chapter Three- Some People are Just Plain Scary

                I stared hard at the screen. If I’m going to do this, then I’ll have to do it perfectly. Everything was set. My fake account was already made, backed up with the information I might need. Everything was ready. All I needed was for him to go online. He just needs to check his YM account. I know this is about time he’d be online, because he’s in my address book in my real account, and he’s, like, online every day.

                It must have been before dinner started when I received the notif that he accepted my add request. And he was online.

                I smiled to myself.

HayD_05: Hi. J I’m SOOO glad you accepted.

                Absently, I began chewing on my nails, thinking that he might not reply back. But either way, I had it all planned out, reply or no reply.

Cam_Sun24: Hey. No problem.

                I smirked and began to type in.

HayD_05: I’m, like, one of your biggest fans!! I’m Haydee.

Cam_Sun24: Sure. I’m Camden.

                I scoffed. I already said that I was one of his biggest fans. Of course I knew his name.

HayD_05: IKR? :D Random question, do you eat corn chips sandwich with whipped cream?

                I grinned. He must be grossed out or something. I mean, corn chips sandwich with whipped cream? Who eats that?

                My goal was simple. I’d be using a fake account, and make “Haydee” as weird as possible. Situation number one: If Cam actually accepted Haydee, my headline would be “Anything’s possible? More like ANYONE’S POSSIBLE.” (“Anything’s possible” is Camden Sun’s catch phrase, and everyone knows that because he says it on all articles about him.) And the content of my article would be all about his taste in women and his low standards. That as long as you’re breathing, and you’re female, Camden Sun would think of you as a potential girlfriend.

                Let’s say he flat-out rejected “Haydee.” Then the headline would be “Anything’s Possible? Not Really.” And the content would be all about him being judgmental. How he didn’t even give some random girl a chance because he was being too picky and choosy.

                Anyways, my point is: It’s a win-win situation for me. Like I said, reply or no reply, I had it all planned out.

Cam_Sun24: Uhh, never tried it. Have you?

HayD_05: Oh, yes. It’s not THAT good, but it was pretty ok.

                He didn’t reply right away. And I was laughing. I was laughing so hard because he must be so grossed out by now. A weird girl saying that corn chips sandwich with whipped cream is “okay”? Even I would be scrambling to the bathroom to puke.

Cam_Sun24: YEAAAAH. You see, I’m not really interested in weird girls. Look, I still have assignments to do. Bye.

HayD_05: WAAAAAAAAIT! I swear, it was just for a game of truth or dare.

Cam_Sun24 is now offline.

                My mouth dropped open.

                Can anyone be more tactless as Camden? I mean, who would be as straightforward as that? I’m not really interested in weird girls? Seriously. No one could ever be as insensitive as this dirthead.

                But anyways, with that out of the way… I can start writing my article. It’s not much, but it’s a start, right?

                “Wow. This—this is exactly like I pictured it.” Eadrine’s eyes were wide. He looked at me and grinned. “Okay, so maybe it’s not exactly like I pictured it. My idea was a little less complicated and evil. But this is really good stuff!”

                He smiled as he read the article again. For the third time. He must have been a nosy homosexual guy in one of his past lives, who was hosting a TV reality show who talked about nothing but gossips. He’s just a little too into this stuff about student gossips.

                “So, it’s okay?” I asked him.

                He smiled. “The article? Are you kidding? It’s perfect!

                My article was simple. It hardly reached five hundred words. But it got all the good stuff anyway. All the good stuff that could ruin his whole dang life.

                “You’re not even bothered that this might be a little harsh?” I asked him, because I found it abnormally weird for him to react like that. I mean, wouldn’t a normal person say it was too much or something?

                He shook his head. “What for? He wouldn’t even know who Night Moon is.” He started to stash all the papers on his desk. “Besides, I know how much you hate him. I pretty much understand you.”

                I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean? I never even told you that I hate him.” I knew Eadrine must have been a nosy gay in one of his past lives! Can’t you see? He’s actually updated when it comes to my hatred towards Cam. Maybe he couldn’t control himself, and he needs gossip, and now he knows the latest gossips of the—

                Eadrine grinned. “Yeah, right. As if that much wasn’t obvious. I still remember the time he flipped your skirt freshman year. It’s just natural that you’re looking for payback now.”

                ­Ohhhh-kay. Maybe he wasn’t that updated after all. That was, like, eons ago or something. He hasn’t even heard about that shower thing in my brother’s party. Not to be rude or anything, but what kind of journalist is Eadrine if he doesn’t know the latest scoop? I mean, freshman year? Seriously?

                And I thought I was outdated.

                “The bell’s about to ring. Come on.” Eadrine straightened up.

                “Uhh, sure.”

                “Shea!”

                When I turned around, I was pretty surprised to see Blake running towards me. He yelled, so now the rest of the student body was completely turned to us. All eyes are pretty much staring at me. I reddened instantly. I’m not really used to people staring at me.

                “About yesterday—”

                “Can we talk outside?” I cut him off.

                “Oh. Uhh, sure.”

                Without another word, we went outside. We were by the fountain, which was located near the gate. It’s in front of the school itself, and it’s the first structure you’d see if you’d enter through the gates. It never really works, unless there are some visitors from high up the state or something, just so they’d be impressed. Usually, it has stagnant water that smells like a manmade pond.

                “About yesterday.” Blake let his palm rest at the back of his neck, having no idea how cute that actually looked. “I-I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to come out of the—I didn’t know you were—I just—Ugh.” He broke off, scowling to himself. “I honestly didn’t mean to… scar you for life.”

                I laughed at his choice of words. And it wasn’t even my usual laugh. It was more of a nervous, girly giggle. “I’m not scarred for life.” The littlest smile was probably playing on my lips. “It’s completely okay.”

                “So… you’re not holding a grudge against me?” He let his gray eyes meet mine.

                “Of course not.” Now I was probably grinning like the biggest idiot mankind has ever seen. “Remember, I was that damsel in distress you saved not long ago.” I remembered his jacket again. I remembered that moment when he placed it on my shoulders, and I couldn’t help but feel like a girl, and I hardly ever feel like one.

                His laugh was lazy and long, but there was a hint of self-consciousness laced with it. “I guess you were.”

                “So, we’re even?” I asked him.

                His lopsided grin grew wider. “Even. But still, I’m really sorry.”

                I nodded. “Then I’m still thankful too.”

                And we laughed shortly. I was beginning to like this person. And so far, he’s the only one who isn’t infected with Cam’s disease.

                “Well, later then.” He started to turn when I nodded, but then he stopped, and looked back at me. “Oh, and Shea?”

                “Hmm?”

                “Next time you play the damsel in distress again, I’ll come save you.”

                I laughed. “Sure. Maybe when that time comes, I’ll warn you beforehand, just so you don’t show up in nothing but a white towel.”

                He reddened, but laughed anyway.

                And just like that, he was running, and I stood there, watching his retreating back. The moment should have been almost perfect, if it wasn’t for the stench of the fountain. Disgusted as I peered into the green water, I scampered off back to the school.

                “Finished flirting?” Cam appeared out of nowhere and held my forearm.

                “Finished getting jealous?” I glared at him. I was just on the verge of thanking my brain for that witty comeback when I realized it was the first mistake of the day, because his answer took me by surprise.

                “Not quite.” Because he sounded serious.

                But I knew him too well, so even though I was entranced for a while with his unbelievable seriousness, I quickly recovered. Pulling myself away from him, I stepped on his foot.

                “Shit,” he cursed, stepping backward once.

                And with that, I left him.

                But I was still thinking—what on earth had gotten into that dirthead for him to sound so… serious?

                Surely, he wasn’t really serious, right? Even if he was serious…

                YUCK. I simply shuddered at the thought.

                It was Friday morning.

                The moment I entered my classroom, I smiled. People were reading. Reading. Some were hunched over the same desk as they read, some were reading alone, some in pairs. But the point is—they were reading the article.

From the doorway where I stood, the words were gleaming at me: “ANYTHING’S POSSIBLE”? NOT REALLY.

                “What’s that?” I asked Sherri as I made my way to my seat, which is just by the window. She was reading alone, one perfectly manicured nail trailing across our school paper as she read the words of the article. She glanced up at me, eyes wide.

                “Gosh, Shea! You have to read this!” She pointed at the headline, violently, might I add. I instantly felt sorry for the paper because Sherri could easily stab it to death. Still, she was my best friend, so I couldn’t really hate her for that.

                “Why? What does it say?”

                She gave me a smug look. “Oh. You’re on the paper. You probably knew about this.”

                “About what?” I asked her once again. If I need to survive being a phantom writer, then I might as well take up acting classes.

                “This.” She stabbed the paper again.

                I was in the middle of saying a little prayer thanking God that I wasn’t made of paper when she started to read out loud.

                “Anything’s possible? Not really.” She looked up at me. “It’s about Camden Sun. Surely, you’ve heard about this, right?”

                I carefully shook my head. “No. Is that even our school paper?” I asked her, realizing I was actually a better actress than I thought I was.

                “Of course it is.” She sounded irritated. “Just sit.”

                I did.

                She handed me the paper. “So, you’re saying that even you have no idea who Night Moon is?”

                “What kind of name is ‘Night Moon’? What is he, a member of the X-Men or something?” I asked her.

                She rolled her eyes. “That was Night Crawler, I think.” She sighed. “We both know this is a pen name,” she told me patiently. “And Night Moon is a she, not a he.

                “How’d you know?”

                She grinned. “You really have no idea whatsoever as to who might have written this?”

                I nodded. “I swear.”

                “She’s so cool!” Her eyes lighted up in excitement. “She’s a phantom writer. She gets to write without anyone knowing who she is! I bet Eadrine knows… Let’s ask him, Shea! Yes, we totally need to ask who this goddess is! And then we could—”

                “Uhh, Sher?” I looked at her. “Calm down.”

                She stopped. “Oh. Right.”

                “Anyways, let me read it.”

                Biting back a smile, I began to pretend that I was fascinated as I read on. But with Sherri babbling in hyper mode as I read along, I could barely contain my smile. In the end, I was grinning.

                “See? I told you she’s cool!”

                In the article, I was speaking as a “friend” of Haydee.

                I guess it works.

                “It’s not that I really blame Camden. I mean, a girl who eats corn chips sandwiches with whipped cream and says they’re good? You gotta give the guy some consideration,” Sher babbled on, “but the way Night wrote this totally made him sound like a horrible douchebag. She’s pretty good.”

                “Right back at ‘ya,” I told her.

                Wow. I guess I’m pretty good.

                “Psst!”

                I looked to my right. Justinne Whitmarsh was staring at me.

                “Do you know who this girl is?” she asked me. “You’re part of the paper, right?”

                I shrugged. “They kept it a secret even to the officers.”

                She shrieked. “If I find out who this b1tch is, I’m going to rip her bloody head from her neck!”

                Yikes. That was just plain scary.

                “Justinne, honey,” Sherri said sweetly but sarcastically at the same time. “Look. This is what she thinks”—she was stabbing the headline all over again with that red nail of hers—“And it’s called a difference of opinion.”

                “Whatever.” Justinne glared at Sher. “Makes no difference when I kill her.”

                Sher and I looked at each other and giggled quietly.

                Lunch was the best time of my day. First, because of the baked macaroni they were serving today. Second, because Justinne Whitmarsh slipped on some orange juice on the floor right next to our table. Third, because Cam was obviously in a bad mood.

                For the first time, Jake’s friends were silent around Cam. Some were trying to talk to him, but were failing miserably. Blake was one of the nice guys who were coaxing him out of his bad mood. It made me feel momentarily guilty, but then I remembered all the times Cam made my life much, much worse.

                And good for me, his was just starting to get worse.

                “Night must be totally hot.” Somebody from the table next to ours said. Sher and I always ate together. “I mean, she really seems smoking hot.”

                Eww.

                I tried not to listen.

                “If I know who she is, I won’t hesitate to hook a date with her,” another dumb jock said.

                “Yeah! If only I knew who she was… I’d bang her up.”

                I cringed at the thought. My goodness, if people don’t want to rip my head off my body, they want to “bang” me up. I don’t know which is more horrifying, but they were both scaring the heck out of me.

                Good thing I was staying unknown.

                I tried not to listen to the rest of the conversation, so I just focused on Sher and on eating my macaroni instead. Some students, though, sounded like they were talking about the article. How much they liked it, how much they hated it. But mostly how intriguing it was.

                And they were making Cam’s life even more miserable than it already is.

                All of a sudden, I was starting to feel triumphant. So I dared look at his table.

                He did not stare back.

Normal
0

false
false
false

EN-US
X-NONE
X-NONE

/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:”Table Normal”;
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:”";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:”Calibri”,”sans-serif”;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:”Times New Roman”;
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}

Chapter Two- The Boy Who Drew

                “You’re taking this seriously.” Eadrine watched me carefully. What he said didn’t even sound like a statement. It sounded more like a question. “You’re really going to be a phantom writer? And… you already thought of a pen name, and you’ve already started making plans. Just earlier, you swore you didn’t want to do it.”

                I rolled my eyes. “When did I say that?” I feigned innocence, batting my eyelashes at him. It was dismissal. Jake is probably out there having basketball practice. I’m currently with Eadrine in the club room that served as our work space. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to turn down that amazing suggestion from our editor-in-chief, now, do I?” There was a faint hint of sarcasm with my words.

                He blinked. “What’s gotten into you?”

                Oh, nothing. Just seeking revenge. And this is how I plan to do it. I’m accepting Eadrine’s offer, wherein I could become a phantom writer no one would know of (other than us) who would write all sorts of stuff about students and school. I’ll be writing a gossip column. That’s one way to put it. But no one will know who I am. So if I sabotage Cam’s life, he won’t know right away that it’s me.

                And the best part? If Cam didn’t even hide my articles in the first place, I wouldn’t have gotten this opportunity. He dug his own grave.

                And he better be ready for it.

                “Seriously.” Eadrine shook his head. “So, your column will be on the front page. It won’t be too big, but the article would be continued somewhere in page seven. The only page people ever look at is the front page. Maybe if they see your column, they’d get intrigued enough to read the continuation.”

                I nodded. “Right.”

                “And your pen name, as you suggested, is—”

                “Night Moon,” I supplied for him. The moon is like the counterpart of the sun. Night Moon will definitely be Camden Sun’s worst nightmare.

                He’ll see. He planned sabotaging my life? Too bad his plan backfired. He’ll see. And one day, he would realize just how small his brain is for him to decide messing with me. And besides, I still haven’t forgotten last night, when he poured down his drink on me. In front of everyone.

                This will be easy. The whole school will know about it, but they won’t know who Night Moon is.

                I looked at Eadrine. “You can’t tell anyone. Even Shelby. Especially Shelby. This is just between the two of us.”

                Eadrine smiled casually, offered his hand and said, “I like that. Deal.”

                “So, when can I submit the first article?” I asked him.

                “Well, the printing’s this Friday. I’ll be expecting it on Thursday. Is two days enough?” he asked me.

                I smiled. “Oh, it’s fine.”

                “Look who decided to show up,” Camden’s smug voice welcomed me, two seconds after I entered the gym.

                I smiled sweetly at him. “Missed me, sweetie?”

                He laughed. It was loud and mocking. “Yeah, sure I did. You know I can’t get tired of that pretty face of yours.” I stopped, because he actually sounded half-serious.

                Ridiculous, I told myself. Absolutely ridiculous.

                “I’m sure you can’t,” I replied. “Too bad I didn’t come here for you. Where’s Jake?”

                He stepped closer. “Ouch. Well, that stings.”

                “Great.” I grinned cheerfully at him. I sidestepped him and looked for my brother. Practice is over. They’re just chilling out, sitting on the polished gym floors, eating potato chips and all.

                “I actually like the wet pajama look better,” Cam called from behind me.

                Keep calm. Keep calm. You’ll get revenge soon. Yeah, that’s right. Soon. Definitely soon. I walked on, ignoring him.

                Jake saw me and grimaced. Great. Now the brainless Cam is rubbing off on my brother. “What are you doing here?”

                I gave him my sweetest smile. “Aww, how cute, lil bro. Don’t I just love the way you despise having me near?”

                He rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. He is definitely becoming a (horrifying) Camden Sun clone. A nightmare. An absolute nightmare. “What do you want?”

                “A ride. It’s Tuesday. Your turn to drive.” I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling like a bossy big sister (which, I realized, I was).

                A door banged open.

                “Hey, guys! Where’d you put the—” He stopped. My eyes bulged out of their sockets. Oh, my gosh. My eyes just lost half of their virginity.

                From where I stood, ten yards away, was the guy who lent me the jacket last night on the party, Blake. He was standing there, yelling at the guys when he saw me, a white towel wrapped around the lower part of his body. I yelped a little too late before I turned around, palms over my eyes, and walked as fast as I could, my face probably burning a bright shade of red.

                I bumped into somebody. I opened my eyes. Sure enough, who else would it be?

                “Smooth.” He chuckled. “Real smooth, Collins.”

                I groaned. “Shut up. Move out!” And I pushed past him.

                He was laughing right behind me, and I knew the rest of the guys were laughing too. I give up. My brother’s unrecognizable. He’s probably turning into some alienated freak with the same genetic code as Cam. Yes, it must be a contagious thing. The genetic program of some freaky guy (a.k.a Dirthead, if it wasn’t obvious) probably jumps and infects the genetic programs of the other guys, messing up their genes and all.

                Blake’s the only different guy here. Honestly. Even if he did step out of the gym locker rooms in nothing but a towel to cover the unnecessary parts, it wasn’t his fault. I mean, he couldn’t have known I was there in the first place. At least he’s not some psychotic freak who dumps his drink on some innocent girl.

                Which reminds me of my plan for today about Night Moon’s column. Oh, how I hope it gets as worst as could ever get for him.

                I still have to wait for Jake, so I stayed in the library instead and booted up my laptop. There’s a wireless connection in the library, and if you ask kindly, the librarian will connect you. The moment I entered, Miss Lorelie just smiled, took my laptop, entered the password, and gave it back to me with a kind smile.

                The library’s like my own second bedroom in school. First, because I can read as many books as I want. Second, because there’s free internet and I can totally write an article while I’m waiting here. Third, Camden never—ever—goes here.

                I don’t really know what’s up between us. Well, okay, so maybe I do.

                There was one time when I was in fourth grade (the only time I was in the same section as him, because that’s the only time he ever got in the first section), we were seated next to each other. No, he wasn’t a jerk. Not yet.

                He was actually quiet (yeah, unbelievable, I know) back then, and he always drew things in his notebook. I took a peek one day, and he was drawing a house with his crayons. You know those old school drawings that little kids draw randomly? He was drawing one of those. And stick people were in front of the house. One woman, I presume, and him. I think he drew himself smaller than the woman, so I automatically knew it was her mom.

                When I asked him what it meant, he started talking. And the next day, he showed me his new drawing. And then as days passed by, we actually had some fun talking to each other. But we weren’t that close.

                In middle school, that’s when things happened.

                He changed. A lot. And suddenly there was none of that boy who drew anymore. None of the boy who talked to me. When I tried talking to him again (in front of his new friends), you know what he did?

                He freaking flipped my skirt. In front of his friends. And he laughed. And from that day on, I started to despise him.

                Trust me, I still don’t know what’s wrong with his head. And all of a sudden he was changing too fast. Now we’re on our senior year. And he never changed back. He might have become worse (shudder).

                The boy who drew never came back again.

                It’s been thirty minutes, and Jake still hasn’t called me. I guess they’re still knocking themselves out with those potato chips.

                I was browsing the net for my paper in Literature when a Yahoo! chatbox suddenly popped up. And all of a sudden, hearing that pop-up sound, seeing that smiley face, I knew what I was about to do to start ruining his life.

                Let the games begin.

2 thoughts on “Unexpectedly*THREE

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s