❝she was the girl, who bit the horizon, who peeled the stars from the sky and put them on her tongue, the girl who was hungry for the universe, who craved magic and saw the broken boy for who he truly was- a broken boy.❞
Beca...
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Chapter 9
Being Nice, Dares and Vague Answers
Ellis
"I hate him!"
"I know."
"He's a twat."
"I know."
"He's..."
"An inconsiderable and heartless son of a bitch," interjected Calista before I could spiral out of control. She was holding the pillow I was currently hitting aloft in the air, "Yes, I know. Astrid knows. the whole world knows and frankly nobody cares at this point. Are you going to do anything about it?"
"I'm so tired of trying to do something about it. He's just going to retaliate and I'm going to fight back and I'm just done with dealing with him. Ugh."
"So that's what you going to do?" said an incredulous Calista, and clearly she was unhappy by my choice. "You're just going to ignore him?"
"I've been not ignoring him for the past five years. If I do something, it'll just be totally predictable." This wasn't the entire reason because as much as I liked to stick to routines and the idea of predictability, it was just so...pointless. Yes, he humiliated me. And yes, Brooklyn would probably never utter a word to me ever again but what's the meaning in striking back with a vengeance to rival the wrath of Nemesis, the Goddess of Revenge? He would prank me back and it'd be the endless cycle of discord. Besides, dealing with Jem would just cause me stress, pimple breakouts and distract me from the one thing I should be focusing my whole energy on- the early acceptance letter I was writing for my dream school, Harvard Medical.
It was then I had an epiphany, and it was Friday, the last day of this horrible week, and it came in my mother's stern voice:
Nothing annoyed a bully more than if you didn't react. Or better yet, be nice to them.
I couldn't imagine being nice to Jeremy Leighton but not screaming at him whenever he did something stupid seemed like a good start.
-
The session for our assigned and promised community service started out torturously slow. I knew from the instance of walking into the chilly office that the prospect of eighty minutes of filing through student files and organising the school's paperwork would be choking me.
The place was congealed from the icy air conditioner blowing in 24/7, which made me tugged my cashmere cardigan even tighter over my body as I strode in. Wordlessly, I saw Jem sitting cross-legged on the floor, polishing the wooden office desks with lemon detergent. We didn't acknowledge each other because we couldn't be bothered to and I didn't trust myself to speak to him without sounding exceptionally pissed off, still sour from the fish fetish rumour and infiltrating my locker with dozens and dozens of dead fish, which did not only took ages to clean up but cost me a few hundred dollars of scented perfume to get rid of the smell. Money wasn't on the whole an issue for me but still. The nuisance could've been spared.
