Chapter 3: Chapter Three - Rhea
Mr. Jay is listening to Bollywood when I enter. He stops the song mid-verse, trying to regain his composure at my entrance.
Before he can say anything I raise a hand, "I did knock." I say, "And so did Mrs. Kentucky. Unfortunately she had to go for a bathroom break; so-"
"So you just barged in?"
I slam the door behind me, raising an eyebrow, "I'm your sister, aren't I like allowed to do that?"
"You take too much advantage of our blood relationship." He says. "You're here for the third time this week. Just why?"
"It's technically 3 and a half." I say, "If you include the time when I came to you with a fresh pair of underwear-"
"Shh." He hushes me abruptly.
"The doors are closed and there's no one except for Mrs. Kentucky outside and she is yuckier than you so.." I shrug. It's true. I once saw her collect collect boogers and then send them flying.
"Rhea." Jacob fakes the tough principal in authority voice. "Right now I'm not your brother, I'm your Principal. And you're here due to a complaint by a student."
"Jace Maxwell?" I ask, shoving my hands deep in my pockets.
"Yeah." He nods, keeping the file back on the table. "What did you do to that poor boy? He seemed pretty traumatized."
I smirk, "Gave him the finger cause he accused me of stealing papers." I say, "You know I'm smart. I got more brains than him and he cant accept it. Not my fault."
"Well," He says, crossing his arms, "What exactly were you doing in the Storage Room? You know that's of bounds."
I sigh, never thought that Jace would go this far.
"That's our secret hideout." I say, "Me and my friends'."
"You have friends?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Should I be like worried?"
"I don't care what you think of me Jacob," I say, "But I'm not the thug you make me out to be. I just ride a bike."
"And smoke."
"Occasionally."
"And partake in underage drinking."
"It was just once!"
"How do I be sure of that?"
I give up, "You're such a pain in the ass Jacob."
"And swear." He ticks off something of his imaginary checklist.
I ignore him, "Well we weren't selling acid or something." I say, "We just have lunch there."
He looks at me fixing his glasses. Me and Jacob have the same parents, but we don't look alike at all. Our mother's Thai and our dad's Indian. I am not sure how the genes got distributed among us, but I look more like my mom's daughter and he is the splitting copy of dad, minus the dimples and the mole. People sometimes think our family's not blood related. Which often works out in our favor. The less people know the better.
"Why don't you go to the Cafeteria like normal people?"
"You don't need to know that." I say, "And besides won't it be better to be like away from the other kids?"
I could probably handle the pressure of fighting over seats in the overcrowded "Cafeteria" and probably Hana could too, but Daniela could never. We never point it out, but she was the reason why we stay away; although it's not her fault. Kids our age can be pretty cruel.
"Well considering your history with others," He says leaning back on the chair, "It is better you stay away. But for god's sake clean up the mess before you leave."
We always do clear up the mess; but today was just a little different. For starters there was no Hana to keep our morals in check, secondly we thought someone locked us in. But it was just Jace.
I leave the office, vowing to make a visit the next week at least twice. I wont ever admit it, but ever since Jacob got married; I kinda miss him. I know he has his own family now, but I cant help but get a little jealous. We both had been best friends throughout our childhood-despite our huge age gap- as long as I remember. I never really needed any friends cause I had Jacob. Now he has Aisha-who I think despises me for no reason-and we cant really meet up anymore. Except for in school.
The day crawls by and when the final bell rings, I yawn my way out of the classroom before Mr. Jefferson can let us know what chapters we have to study for the math test tomorrow. He gives me a look, but doesn't say a word. I refused to take Advanced Math in 11th grade. Math was the only thing that I didn't have to work for, why make it harder? So, technically I'm the only one smart in his Math class right now. He relies on me for his paycheck. My scores are enough to jump the class average and hence the special treatment.
I find Daniela waiting for me at my locker, her bag already hung around her shoulders. She never leaves her stuff in the locker. She has this weird fear that someone would steal her things.
I tell her that no one would bother to break twenty one locks, just for a pair of extra socks-"Pure cotton", she always says; a diary where she doesn't write anything with the fear that someone would read it and a 2NE1 Album; but she doesn't care. She doesn't even leave them at home, which is even dumber.
"Ready to go?" She asks hopping, "I'm starving."
"Sure," I say, locking my locker before walking out of the school building along with her. "What do you want to eat?" I ask her as if there's even a choice.
"I don't know," She says, "Chinese?"
I laugh. "Nice one."
We end up going to her mother's Café to get some milkshakes, cause we're broke.
....................................................
"Mom?" I rush down the staircase spiraling down to the Kitchen which is the last place I know my mother will ever be. Dad looks up from the Kitchen, the pot in front of him whistling, munching on what looks like tofu as he points ahead towards the piano room. I sigh, jumping down the stairs and there it is the sound of notes distinctly audible from the room, followed by a an angry clash of notes and a string of swear words.
I look at dad and he shrugs, hoisting the chef hat on his head with a grin.
"Are you really going to cook today again?" I ask him. "Isn't it like mom's day to cook?"
"I thought you liked it when I cooked." He says, snapping beans and clearing them all in a bowl.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you'll cook all the time." I say.
"Your mom's been a little busy," He says, the thick Indian accent that he never tried losing still accentuating his words. He didn't lose it, cause people apparently like chefs who know what they're doing. If he didn't sound Indian, people would be more hesitant. But I know this is not the only reason. "Got a new project on her hands. If I don't help around, you'll go hungry."
I shrug, "Well it's just the three of us," I say, "You don't have to always cook such elaborate meals. Just cook instant noodles or soup sometimes."
He makes a face, "What I cook is hundred times healthier than those noodles you eat all the time." He says and smacks me gently with the string onions he carries, a smile on his lips. "And much much tastier."
I smile, I agree. What he cooks is a lot tastier, but he shouldn't be working like that all the time while mum rallies around wannabe celebrities with the airs as if they're already Beyoncé. I know this is how a relationship works and besides she is the one making all the bills; someone has to compromise. I'm hopeless at cooking so that's one thing I cant do, but I do the dishes and help with the laundry.
"Don't you have the trip coming up?" Dad asks all of a sudden. "The one before you graduate junior year?"
"Oh, that." I say, jugging down a glass of water, "Yeah it is. We're apparently going to Kaiwa."
"The island?" He asks, "That's a beautiful place. When is it?"
"Next month." I say, wondering why he's so excited. "Why though? It's not like I'm going."
His knife stops mid air as he turns to face me. "And why is that? Aren't your friends going?"
"Oh, Daniela is going all right." I say, "Hana is already in her senior year, so she had her trip last year. I don't know why I'll be going though."
He narrows his eyes. "How many times have I told you?" He asks, "These days are never coming back. Better make use of it and have fun."
"I need money for that though." I say, "Around a 100 dollars. And you know me, I'm always broke." I empty out the pockets of my sweatshirt for emphasis. A tissue paper rolls down.
"That's nothing to be proud of." he says, "If you don't learn finance now, how will you survive college?"
I'm not going to College, I want to correct him; but that's a totally different discussion, so I just twirl around and sulk, until he says, "Your know what. It's time you get a job again." He stabs my chest with a carrot. "Your mother is looking for an assistant to assist her at her job and the pay is going to be well. Why don't you take it up and earn money on your own?"
"But-"
"No buts." He says, "I'll talk to your mom and maybe you will start of as soon as next week."
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Bareena
Bareena Creation is hard, cheer me up if you enjoyed it. I'm new at writing so it might be a bit sloppy; I try my best though!
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