THE PRESIDENTIAL SON (English)

Chapter 7: MORNINGS WITH THE PRESIDENT

(Aya)

“MY HEAD HURTS.”

“You aren’t even one percent done with the things you have to read,” Trei comments dryly.

I groan and resist the urge to throw the laptop on my lap. This is the second morning that I have to go to the student council office. Yesterday, Trei gave me a brief explanation about the history of the Sports Fest. I told him I don’t think knowing its history is actually necessary for me to handle the event. He gave me a sharp glare.

For this morning he is making me read the final reports of each year’s Sports Fest. Each report is at least fifty pages long. I am only in my third report and I have been reading for one hour already.

“I get the gist of the Sports Fest already, you know. I also understand the logistic behind it even from the first report. I don’t think I should continue to read everything.”

Trei lifts up his gaze from his iPad and looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Don’t take this job lightly. Every activity in Golden Cross International School is not just a simple event. Have you forgotten the social status of the students in this school? Did you not know whose children they are?”

His litany makes me speechless. It is as if ice-cold water was splashed on me. He is right of course. The students in Golden Cross are children of the elites of the elites in our country. They are children of multi-billionaires, businessmen and businesswomen, politicians and celebrities. These are students that travel to different countries over the weekend when they feel like it. These are teenagers who have a daily allowance that is bigger than my yearly pocket money. They grew up getting everything they wanted without lifting a finger. And because there is nothing that they don’t have, they also get bored easily.

If the Sports Fest will not be handled beyond perfection, the students will not enjoy the event. If they don’t enjoy the event, they will complain and their parents might do something that will be to the school’s disadvantage. Worst, the students might also take their discontent to the student council and to… me.

I shiver as I imagine all the things they can do to me. Trei never took his eyes off me so I know he sees my reaction. I also know that he knows what I am imagining because he smirks and his eyes flashes with that sadistic mirth. Then he looks down at his iPad again. “Get back to reading those reports. I will quiz you after you are done with all of that.”

I throw him an angry glare. He doesn’t look up but I see that the corners of his lips move as if he is trying not to smile. Still frustrated and irritated I look down at the laptop screen again. After a few minutes, I am not even done with the same report I have been reading when my stomach gurgles aloud. I freeze and steal a glance at Trei. He doesn’t seem to have heard that right? I am about to relax when my stomach grumbles again. This time Trei looks up.

Cold embarrassment washes over me when our eyes meet. “I… I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”

Actually, I also didn’t eat dinner last night. I came home from volleyball practice with our house covered in darkness.  My parents were not home. I was too tired to make food for myself. Besides I don’t like eating alone. So I just changed clothes, made sure all the doors and windows are properly locked, and slept.

 After that morning when I heard my parents fighting, my mom packed her bags and went back to my grandparent’s place. She told me it’s just temporary. She said my grandmother is sick that was why she will go there to take care of her. My mom didn’t know that I heard them fighting.

Meanwhile, my father practically lives in the company where he works. I don’t even know if he goes home because he was not there when I arrive. And when I wake up in the morning I still don’t see even his shadow. He doesn’t even call our landline or even my cellphone to ask how I am doing. At least my mother texts me a lot of times during the day.

My father was not this workaholic before. Everything changed when he resigned from his previous job and started a new job when I was in junior high. From then on, he started to focus more on his work than us and the fight between him and my mother began. Heck, I don’t even know the name of the company where he works now. When I asked him years ago, he said his position is confidential and my mom and I might get in trouble if people know we are associated with that company. My mother knows though. Probably my teachers and the admins in Golden Cross knows too. They just do not trust me enough to share the information with me. That hurts but what’s new? They are not the best parents out there.  

My stomach growls again. I clear my throat and look down at the laptop. “Just… pretend you are not hearing anything,” I murmur.

“You can take a break and eat first. I’m sure the cafeteria is open now,” Trei comments casually.

“It’s okay. I will eat during lunch. I really want to finish these readings you’ve been throwing at me like.”

Besides, the food being sold in the cafeteria is so expensive and extremely overpriced. As a scholarship student, part of our program is a free lunch menu. But we have to show a coupon. After that if we want to buy something in there we need to use our own money. I do get pocket money from the scholarship and I also receive an allowance from my father. But I have plans for the future and I need to save money.

I slowly relax when my stomach finally stops making embarrassing sounds. For a few minutes I am able to focus on reading. I just finish the third yearly report and is about to start on the fourth when my stomach seeks attention again.

Trei sighs loudly. I look up when he suddenly stands. “Get up,” he says. Irritation is evident in his voice.

“Why?” I ask defensively.

“Just get up and follow me. Don’t waste my time.”

His tone grates on my nerves. I glare at him. “You don’t have to talk to me like that.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Aya.”

He stares down at me. His haughty air makes me want to poke his eyes with my fingers. But I don’t want to waste my time too. So I put the laptop on the table and stood. He doesn’t even wait for me. He just goes out of the room just like that.

“Where are we going?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer so I have no choice but to follow him. He goes out of the student council office and down the stairs. I furrow my brows and I step down the stairs, following him. “Hello? Why are we going out of the building?” Frustrated I shout, “Trei!”

He suddenly stops and turns back. It catches me off guard. I almost fall on top of him. Thankfully, I grab the handrail before it happens. My heart slams against my chest when I realize that I could have twisted my ankle or slipped in the stairs. I could have been injured.

“Why did you suddenly stop?” I demand.

“What did you just call me?” he asks instead of answering me.

“Trei.”

He fully faces me and takes a step up the stair until he is standing directly in front of me. He is too close that our front almost touch. “I didn’t give you permission to call me by my name.”

I blink. I don’t get why he sounds angry. It’s just a name. “Well, you just called me Aya. I didn’t give you permission to call me by my name either.”

He slowly blinks. I hate it. It feels like he is mocking me. “So this is how you will be? If I do something you will do it too?”

“Of course. Just like in volleyball if you send the ball to the other side of the net, you should expect that someone on the other side will receive and toss it back because there is no way your opponent will just concede easily.”

“Interesting,” he murmurs, still staring at me. I can almost hear the gears inside his brain turning. Now, if only I can know what he is thinking about at that moment. But there is no way of knowing. Not unless he decides to show his cards.

“So where are we going?” I ask after a long moment of tensed silence.

He knows that he is making me uncomfortable. I can see it in the sadistic gleam on his eyes. “We will do something about that distracting stomach of yours.”

I blink. “What?”

He turns his back on me again and continues to descend the stairs. Still confused, I follow him. After a few minutes my stomach clenches when I realize where we are going.

Trei enters the cafeteria like he owns it. I follow with my heart slamming against my chest and my hands getting cold. I really don’t want to embarrass myself right now. I don’t even have my wallet. I left it on my bag. The said bag is on that inner room in the student council office.

Golden Cross International School cafeteria looks like an expensive restaurant. The place is long and wide with an open second floor and huge wide windows that let the sun pour in. But it is not hot because the centralized air-conditioning is enough to keep the place cool even during lunch when almost all the students are there to eat. The tables and chairs are high-end hardwood, not plastic like in the normal cafeterias. There is enough space between tables so you will not even hear the conversation on the nearest table.

Right at that moment, the cafeteria is almost empty. The only few people eating are adults, probably part of the school administration and teachers. I look around nervously, making sure no one is looking in our direction.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Trei suddenly asks me.

I look back at him. He has an impatient frown on his handsome face. He is already standing in front of the life-sized digital machine where students press the photo of the meal set they want. Then you will either insert money or tap your credit card before the machine will release a stub. It is next to the long counter where the food gets prepared during lunch. The usual old lady in charge of taking orders is standing on the other side of the counter, staring at Trei like she is seeing a celebrity or something.

[Even the old lady cannot escape the power of Trei Daniels.] I draw in a deep breath, exhale and walk towards them.

“Pick something to eat. Something that will really make you full,” he commands me.

I look at the machine. In my years of studying in Golden Cross I’ve never used it. “I don’t have money on me,” I admit.

Trei utters a frustrated curse and presses the most expensive breakfast set. Then he presses the photo of a tall cup of black coffee. He quickly taps a black card and then he pulls the released stub. His movement is too fast and precise that when I realize what is happening he is already giving the old lady the stub.

I go to him. “I will pay you later.”

“Forget it.” He walks towards the other end of the counter where the kitchen staff will release the order. I follow him.

I want to argue but when I stare at his side profile words get stuck in my throat. I bet he is doing this because he was inconvenienced. He must have been so irritated at my loud stomach that this is the practical solution for him. I am sure he is not intentionally acting kind to me. So why am I feeling touched right now?

[Don’t lower your guard, Aya. This is Trei Daniels. He is not kind.]

I try to convince myself. But then the big tray of the breakfast set and his coffee arrive. He grabs the tray and carries it to the nearest table before I can do it. My chest clench as I sit in the chair in front of his.

“Eat,” he orders in his usual arrogant tone.  

I take my food. The hot steam of the rice and the tasty smell of bacon and eggs hit my nostrils. I suddenly become emotional. Probably due to hunger. Instead of irritation, what I feel is gratitude. I glance up at Trei. I open my mouth to thank him for the food. But before I can utter a word a feminine presence appears at the side of our table.

“I thought you don’t eat breakfast.”

I look up. It is miss Anderson.