CHAPTER SIX
Saturday has approached and Rhainne find herself dragged by Sam all throughout the stupid, screaming crowd of fan girls, almost all of them are either wearing a T-shirt with that bastard’s face, or bringing banners and huge tarpaulins, where that bastard is again, smiling at her. She growled, oh, how she wanted badly to tear that into pieces. Now, what? All girls still think he’s hot when he keeps playing with kisses?!
“Why would you mind watching his concert when you could just damn stalk him all you want in school?!,” Rhainne demanded loudly, her being pissed, clearly evident, as a lot of OA girls began slamming their huge bodies—their boobs, particularly—on her, as the space to the giving-your-tickets booth became narrower and narrower.
“It’s just so different when you could see him singing lively, his charm becoming stronger than ever!,” Sam explained.
Rhainne snorted, and Sam seemed to have heard this.
“Anyways, it’s my birthday today, why won’t you just understand? If it’ll be your birthday, then we’ll play volleyball all day.”
“Okay, okay, I understand,” Rhainne replied tiringly, her eyes lazily scanning the crowd, until—goddamnit—she spotted a suspicious spot. She adjusted her eyes on there again to be sure, then yelped.
“What?,” Sam demanded.
“Sam, I’m so sorry. I can’t go with you.”
“What?!,” Sam repeated, her voice raising more in disbelief, but as soon as she had her eyes fixed to where Rhainne is looking at too, she shoved her away hurriedly, “Go, go, before it’s too late.”
Rhainne bit her lip and forced out a smile before pushing herself throughout the crowd who were now all cursing and yelling at her. But she doesn’t care. She needs to escape. Like, right NOW.
In that suspicious spot, are the three exact men (in some fancy stupid matching black and white coat and tie costume) who her Mom had largely indebted, for how long—three stupid years of all stupid means of escape?—and until now, had not been paid, yet.
Damn, mom. Since when will you pay? Rhainne thought to herself as she ran like mad in the lovely hall, avoiding rashly from dashing fans and dating couples who all gasped as she all went past them in a marathon speed. And then she saw it. Her next means of escape. The mop that that Aling janitress is holding. Quickly, she aimed for it and grabbed it, before she could even start nagging at her. Cute.
“Hey, y-you, y-you, y-you, n-naughty k-kid!,” she shouted, but Rhainne had nothing else to do, but to only flash her a guilty grin, as the three men approached nearer and nearer, almost toppling over her—the poor old white-haired janitress.
With a sudden rush of guilty adrenaline, Rhainne dropped her mop purposely and continued running, now in a more zigzag manner. She heard a toppling of bodies from behind and she knew her ruse worked. Those jerks slipped on the floor, but still there’s no time to loose. On the reflection by the mirror nearby, she saw the guard running after her.
And so, she ran faster, her adrenaline working more than her brains. Okay, so luckily, there’s a proceeding crowd of people. That would be her next means of escape. 1. 2. 3.
NOW!
There was a shriek, followed by curses, gossips and random clicking of camera flashes. Ian turned to know what’s going on, but it was too late. Some heavy thing just slammed by his leg. He looked at it, then widened his eyes. What the—?!
“Ian, could you please explain what’s going on?,” the annoying bald reporter from channel 7, asked. His name is Ricky Cuizon, Ian remembered, “Who’s…this?”
Ian remained surprised, but dared not to show it.
Rhainne looked up at him, her cheeks flashed, then upon seeing his dark brown eyes burning with anger and disgust, bowed her head down, looking away from him.
Crazy, disgusting, girl, Ian thought.
“It really is an amazing sight that while going to the backstage, about to prepare your own concert, some girl—your girlfriend—”
“She is not my girlfriend.”
“Then, is she perhaps the mysterious girl from the video?”
Ian flexed his jaw, debating what to answer.
“…The one you kissed?”
1.2.3.4.5. 6—six long seconds before the answer came.
“Yes, she is the one,” the answer came, but it was not from him. It was from Mr. J, his manager, “But it’s not as how all of you thought.”
And there was a sudden pause.
Time seemingly stretched, a cool uneasy atmosphere passing on everyone.
And he suddenly became conscious that she was so near to him. He could feel her nervousness as she shivered and trembled secretly in fear, still trying hard to look brave, her nails digging hard on his leg. But he let it be, for now.
As a mere consideration to what Mr. J will say next.
“This girl, as you can see,” Mr. J continued, “is Shanelle Cruz’s daughter.”
(P.S: PLEAAAASSSEEE VOOOOTTTTEE :) )
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The Girl Who Never Acts Like One
RomanceRhainne Vergara is a girl who never acts like one. She doesn't wear dresses and always tends to act boyishly. She even have a boy's voice (but that obviously still didn't get rid of the fact that she is pretty, hidden however of her personality). An...
