The Corner (10 page)

Good thing that my composure
only broke down when I reached the bus stop where there was no one
else in sight. What would others say if they caught me crying over
a boy? Not to mention that I cried over a boy whom I should never
dream of being together with in the first place.

I leaned against a lamppost and
stared out at the rows of residential buildings on the opposite
side of the road, feeling useless and aimless. Then someone stroked
my hair gently, as if to console me. It felt comforting to have
somebody around for me.

Feeling the delicate fingers
running through my hair with tenderness, I didn’t want it to stop.
The light brushing slowly became deliberate combing.

“Natalie!”

I got startled by the upbeat and
energetic male voice and let out a gasp. My whole body tensed up as
I snapped around to see who it was.

The person disturbing my peace
was Jareth, who was standing right beside me and scrutinizing my
face. “Did you cr—”

I cut off his question, “Just a
cold.” Then I looked away. The fierce, cold wind of spring helped
to enforce my cooked-up story.

Shouldn’t he be in the
gymnasium? The last things I wanted at that moment: to be seen with
swollen eyes and reddened nose, and talked to any living soul. I
wished for him to take a hike and stop bothering me.

Too bad … instead of getting my
hint, he started to take off his school windbreaker. “Here, take
my—”

I glared at him in horror. It
was then I took note of the bandage wrapped around his left biceps.
No way was I going to accept his offer. What if he had gotten sick
because he had no gear to protect him from the cold? I would be
blamed for it.

“No.” I took two steps away from
the guy, avoided any further eye contact with him and proceeded to
flag down a bus that was reaching the bus stop.

“It’s okay,” he tried to assure
me.

“Thanks. I don’t need it. Bye!”
I quickly boarded the bus. Relief rushed over me when I heard the
sound of the door closing.

However, that relief was
immediately displaced by panic as the bus shifted to the right
lane. The bus I had always taken stayed in lane to turn left at the
next junction. Standing in the middle of the aisle, I scanned my
surroundings with fanatic craze, trying to get my bearings. My mind
was in frenzy. Which bus had I gotten onto? Where was it going
to?

I thought of getting off at the
next bus stop but changed my mind when I saw Jareth’s eyes fixating
on the bus I was in. He should just drop the act of being Mr.
Friendly or Congeniality when in front of me. Nothing I said, good
or bad, would have any effect on his good reputation. Why did he
pretend to be nice to outliers like me when he actually despised
us? I had enough of that kind of people.

Maybe I should alight at five
stops later instead.

The problem was that the bus
went onto the highway after the fourth bus stop. It was unnerving
for me to sit through the seemingly never-ending journey that was
transporting me to a faraway land. Where was the bus taking me to?
There was an urge in me to just request the bus driver to let me
get off, which was hardly practical. What could I do in the middle
of a highway that had nothing else in sight, except barriers,
stretches of asphalt, vehicles, road signs, notices, and gigantic
bridges spanning over or going under the highway I was on?

All the while, the fidgety and
edgy me was standing at the exit door and never stopping to look
out for a bus stop ahead. I nearly went hysterical when the bus was
inching towards the bus stop in sight. After getting out of the
bus, I realized I wasn’t out of troubles yet.

The only thing I knew about the
place was its name: Queen’s Street. Wouldn’t even know that if not
for a road sign that indicated so. Mandy and Kelly had mentioned
that they loved to shop around that area. It looked like a hip and
trendy shopping district due to a mix of impressive, enormous
shopping complexes with modern architecture and rows of quaint,
European styled shop-houses that had the old-school charm.
Everything there was so unfamiliar—almost alien. When by myself, I
only travelled to and fro school. Thus everywhere else was like
scary, unchartered waters to me.

I thought of going to the
opposite side of the road to take a bus back to St. Andrew’s
Institution. From there, I could easily get home. However, all the
roads there were one-way type. Where did they lead to? Which one
was the route back? It was scary to take the same bus to go further
down the road to find the point where the to-and-fro lanes were
side by side to each other. Where could I find the bus that would
send me back to the world I was accustomed to?

There were many people sashaying
around the place though I was afraid to ask them for directions.
They looked so posh and stylish, to the point of being
intimidating. Also, I didn’t want to be laughed at for getting
lost. My phone had run out of power, so the option of using the
maps to get my bearings was thrown out of the window.

I was standing at the bus stop
in daze. Would I be stuck there until I collapsed from hunger and
exhaustion? That would be disgraceful. I was alone. Nobody would
help me without judging me. I deserved no help either.

I began to have the feeling that
I was detached from the real world. Invisible forces cupped over my
ears to subject my ear drums to the constant bellowing of the
trapped air swirling in the ear canals. All other sounds around me
were muted. Living things and inanimate objects—both bled into a
mess of pulsating fogs of different colours. Only one individual,
standing at few metres away, retained her defined shape.

The corner girl stood out as the
only being that I could see clearly. Her side was facing me. Her
hair and clothes didn’t flutter one bit in the strong winds,
defying what physics had dictated.

She was like the only light amid
the surrounding hell, beckoning to me. The only one who could guide
me back to my solace … I stumbled towards her. The air around me
was getting colder. I craved for her warmth in order to dispel the
coldness.

When the distance between us was
an arm’s length only, I continued to walk forward while reaching
out for her hand, which was hanging limply by her side.

“Stop!”

A grip on my upper arm jerked me
backwards. The next moment, a motorcycle sped past … right before
me. The sting from being slapped on the face by the rush of air
generated by the fast-moving two-wheeler—it felt so painful.

I was
still somewhat in a state of shock when I boarded the bus, with
Jareth behind me. I didn’t understand why I had accepted his offer
of help. Maybe I was slightly touched upon hearing his explanation
that he took the next bus to find me after noticing that something
was wrong with my drastic reactions on the bus. I got lucky that he
spotted me through the window of the bus and got out of the vehicle
in time to halt my advance towards serious injuries or death.

I wasn’t thinking properly
anyway. By logic, I should scamper as far away from him as
possible.

However, no matter how
disorientated I was, my old habit of going for the seats at the
back of the bus remained intact. Alas, the single-decker bus didn’t
allow another inclination of mine to act up.

After sitting down with Jareth
joining me, I stared blankly ahead and murmured, “Thanks.” It
should be the fourth time I had said that.

What else could I say to him? It
was nice of him to help me, so I shouldn’t be saying potentially
hurtful things to brush him off. Even though I wanted him to leave
me alone … sort of.

He exhaled deeply. “Okay, I get
it already. Can’t we talk about something else …”

What else could we talk about?
Gymnastics?

Then he leaned towards me while
staring at me, menacingly. “Are you really okay?”

I wasn’t expecting him to ask me
that question again. It was the third time already … the pot
calling the kettle black. The dude should reflect on his own
actions before pointing fingers at me. On top of that, his dark
brown iris looked like evil orbs that could cast malicious spells.
I didn’t feel at ease to be within their attack range.

After a patronizing nod, I
turned away to focus on the scenery outside instead.

“What is it that you’re pissed
off about?” Jareth interrupted my quiet time.

“Nothing,” I stated, still
looking out of the window.

“It’s obvious that’s not the
case. Is it something I had said?”

I refused to answer. Why should
he care about what I thought of him?

He shifted closer to me and
stretched over to use his head to block my view. “Hey, it’s unfair
to me when you don’t tell me what’s wrong and sulk about it.”

The guy was seriously getting on
my nerves. I was grateful for his help, which I would repay in
other ways. Did I have to go through the grilling by him?

“Don’t worry,” I said, hoping
that he would let it rest.

He shook his head. “It’s hard to
understand you. You’re not saying anything, but your face is
telling me so many things.”

“Then don’t look at my face,” I
snapped under my breath. Wouldn’t he feel better if he stopped
analysing my mug?

The chap backed off and
straightened his back. “Well, I couldn’t help … I’m not staring.
Uh, I’m not a creep.” He coughed once before continuing, “Just
trying to figure you out … okay, I’m sounding creepy right now.” He
made a loud sigh.

Perhaps he didn’t mean to sound
creepy? I understood how it felt to be wronged. Somehow, many
regarded my actions as creepy when in reality, I had none of those
creepy thoughts. Or was I being creepy without me realizing it?

Anyway, would the confident
Jareth behave like that when facing the principal?

I felt bad about throwing him
into that awkward situation, thus I attempted to redirect the
topic, “How did you handle your principal?”

His eyebrows arched up. Then he
chuckled. “Let that old geezer nags until he has nothing else to
yak about. It’s always about balancing schoolwork with sports. What
does he know about my passion for gymnastics? I worked hard to get
into St. Andrew in order to join its gymnastics team.”

Strange that he took the
roundabout way to chase after his dreams. “Can’t you join the
National Youth Team instead?”

He sighed softly and raised his
shoulders for a second. “Objection from dad. Obviously, gymnastics
is not going to help me to manage his trading company. I still went
ahead …”

“Then?” I was a little curious
about his background. Getting Jareth to talk about himself would
distract him from interrogating me.

He seemed very upset when
saying, “Got a major muscle tear just before enrolment into the
National Sports Academy. That needed a year to recover. Couldn’t be
waiting around, doing nothing, so I decided to get into St. Andrew
first and move on from there.”

“It’s great there, isn’t it?” I
uttered in hopes of cheering him up.

It appeared to work since his
eyes brightened up. Honestly speaking, it wasn’t difficult to
decipher his thoughts based on his expressions. To think that I, a
person who couldn’t read faces, could say that about someone.

However, right after that, he
groaned. “It’s not great to get lectured on bimonthly basis. So
bored that I started to count the number of times he used the word
‘actually’. Best record: a whopping thirty in an hour!” A sly smile
spread across his mouth. “He was jumping mad when I informed him of
that.”

I pressed my lips tightly
together to prevent their ends from curling up. Feeling that it
wasn’t working, I decided to conceal the smile by talking. “No
warning?”

“Nope.”

How was it possible to get away
with such insolent retort?

Jareth seemed to know what I was
thinking because he added, “That’s not enough to warrant a warning.
It had nothing to do with the fact that he’s my uncle. The old guy
is impartial.”

“No wonder.” I bowed my head in
downheartedness. I would be counting my lucky stars if the
principal stopped picking on me. Having a family member as the
principal—that was a benefit that only few like Jareth could
have.

“What’s up?” He went into deep
thoughts for a short while before asking in an undertone, “You got
warnings before?”

I bobbed my head with great
reluctance. It was a shameful matter to converse about.

“What?” he exclaimed. “How could
a girl like you get it? I know your principal is a fierce and
self-absorbed show-off. Didn’t expect she’s this bad.”

His words made me felt slightly
better. “You know her?”

“Saw her during the combined
sports day. She looked like a witch decked in jewelleries, who
cawed non-stop.” Jareth held up his fist in front of his mouth to
pretend that he was talking into the microphone. He began to mimic
my principal by cackling in a hoarse, high-pitched voice, “My
husband, the minister of Home Affairs, is an old boy of St. Andrew.
Blah, blah, blah.”

Then he switched back to his
normal voice, “As if we give a damn about it.”

Before I could tone down my
reactions, my mouth broke into a wide beam.

“You look pretty when you
smile,” commented Jareth.

Why did he say that? It wasn’t
convincing since the universal opinion was that I was Ugly Netty—a
nickname given to me by my elementary school classmates. Only the
two top boys stayed out of the name calling. Maybe Jareth wanted me
to reciprocate in kind?

“You’re handsome,” I
remarked.

His jaws slackened. “Am I
supposed to feel happy about it? It’s hard to …”

That was true. One only felt
flattered if complimented by gorgeous girls like Kelly, Fiona, and
maybe Mandy.

“Especially when you said it
with that expression. Like someone is pointing a gun at your head,”
he grumbled.