Love Lies A' Bleeding

Chapter 12: Bad. Worse. Worst.

Bad. Worse. Worst. And repeat.

First, my blacking out at the back of Martin Santiago’s Camaro went banner news. It wasn’t like it was printed out on paper like on a loose leaf. No. It was spread through mouths hungry for gossip or for anything that concerned my downfall.

Then Chelsea started talking beside me like we were suddenly best friends. I knew then that something was really off.

“So, you still in some kind of stupor, huh?” she asked with her hands folded in front of her.

Chelsea’s hair looked extra black and shiny. Then it hit me. Oh, my God. I wondered how many trips she had to the salon just to get that right kind of shine.

“Stupor? That’s a better way of saying it, thanks. Honestly, I haven’t thought of the word. Until now, of course,” I said with fake enthusiasm. Of course, she only heard that word from somebody else. She couldn’t possibly know the real meaning of it.

“That’s sad,” was her remark.

“Sad, eh? Now that’s a very lame word,” I said.

Her eyes got big and her mouth opened and closed as if she was about to say something but forgot what they actually were.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I still have other things to think about. Especially those bulls you told Trisha Mendoza about.”

Her face was in shock. I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.

“W—wh—what do you mean?” she stammered, her hands suddenly limping at her side.

“Aren’t you that girl Henry was kissing before I throw him the cake?” I asked casually.

Now Chelsea’s face was one of utter disbelief. Her hands shook from her side.

“The—that’s—I—it wasn’t me!” she said indignantly, as indignant as someone who couldn’t even form a nice enough sentence.

I snickered. “Oh, really? I thought it was you, because even if you were good at hiding that face of yours, I couldn’t imagine missing that hair of yours even if you were part of a crowd.”

I noticed both her hands hanging on to the chair in front of her. She was shaking. Hey, she looked pale, too.

“I—I—I swear it wasn’t me. I’m not the—the only one who—ah—has this kind of hair. Yours is straight, too!” she pointed out.

I raised my eyebrows. “Is that so? Well, I don’t think I have seen any other hair shinier than yours.”

“Th—the—”

Second period saved her. If I were she, I would go meet our Math teacher and give him a hug.

Second, Noah came to me the minute the news graced his ears. And that generated more gossips, especially when what they saw was Noah pinning me to the wall. Because apparently I didn’t want to talk about it and he had no choice but to pin me on the wall so I would talk.

“Queen,” he said my name in the way only he could. It was gentle and soft, and it traveled to my ears with divinity, making the hairs at the back of my neck stood. It didn’t help that he was looking at me straight in the eyes.

“Noah,” I said.

“About the news,” he began.

I could feel the heat coming off his body, and I was sure my face was getting redder and redder with each passing minute.

“What news?” I said, faster than he could blink his eyes.

He frowned. “You know what news I am talking about.”