Badboy for a Boyfriend

Chapter 1

“You really excel on the test this time. How did you do that?” Sue smiled at me with pride radiating from her face. That brought out a smile to Jean’s face, too. Tanner joined the small celebration by smirking at me with his bad-boy-looking face. Towering height, rough features, and a boyish grin.

Except that I was not joining them. I shook my head and grimaced at the word — celebration. To hide my vile reaction, I continued to take my belongings from my desk back in my bag. If only they knew the truth…

If only I could tell them.

“She won’t tell us,” Jean answered Sue as seconds passed without me giving a response to the question. She playfully rolled her smiling eyes and stuck her tongue out to me. “I could only imagine her studying behind our back to get to the top.”

“I don’t mean to be on top; you know that. And you know the only reason I’m… doing this is…” I trailed off, suddenly feeling exhausted by the weight building upon my shoulders.

“Your dad.” Tanner nodded. He shrugged the bag on his right shoulder. He and Jean were almost the same height and taller than me, while I was about three inches taller than Sue with my 5 '6 height. I forced a small smile at Tanner. They knew it too well.

But Sue's smile faded a fraction. She put her arm around my neck ― her usual way of trying to make me feel better. Her short black straight bob hair defines the features of her small face. We’re all the same age, just about a month older than one another, but Sue acted like the youngest one, though the most sensitive of all.

Jean and Tanner had been my best friends since middle school. It was during our first year in IHM they introduced Sue to me. So far, I wouldn’t ask for any kind of friendship but this.

“No worries, let’s not talk about the pressure and just head to the cafeteria already. I’m starving!” Jean also put her arm on my shoulder, but they have to pull their arms off me as we step out of the classroom. They knew how conscious I could be with all the eyes probably watching us—me. Our family is part of the school’s board, with my father being the vice president. It’s only natural to get that amount of attention―and not to want it in return. At least that’s the case with me.

Students who were rushing to the hallway nearly slammed into us. They muttered a quick apology after making sure they did not cause any physical contact with us. Their faces were pale with recognition. Tanner hissed his irritation at them. The group of three girls and one boy scurried away and followed the other students.

“What’s wrong with them?” he muttered in annoyance.

“I bet it’s the transferee again,” Jean answered with a grimace plastered on her face.

“Uh?” Sue turned to me. “Right. Rumors were spreading since he transferred last week. Quite late from the start of the school year. Still, he got in and has been on the school website since then. Everyone was claiming he’s the president’s son... Your family is friends with the Silvero, right?”

Silvero?

“I’m not sure. Dayshawn and Daniella have already been here since their first year. They are the only children of Mr. Silvero who are still schooling.” And no one in this school doesn’t know them already.

“Are you sure?” Sue continued. “Because the new guy is a Silvero, too. Apparently, the president has another son… I bet he’s as good-looking as Dayshawn, don’t you think?” She giggled with excitement.

I blankly watched her as I tried to remember anyone from the Silvero clan. But there’s none. I slowly shook my head. “I’ve never met him.”

It’s impossible, though. I’ve known about all the members of Silveros since I could remember. I have met with them countless times. Mr. Silvero also has older sons who are into politics now, but there’s no way they are going back to high school.

“And what? There are lots of Silveros in the world.” Tanner’s complaint broke my trance. I turned my attention back to them. “Everyone’s creating a buzz because of his name?”

“Actually, no.” Sue aggressively shook her head with firm determination to continue her narrative. Her short hair followed her movement and her eyes shut for effect. She seemed to know a lot more than any of us. “They said he’s from a very delinquent school and has a look that could kill.”

Tanner scoffed, his face distorted with exasperation. “The usual loser tryna be cool… Let’s go. That news isn't worth our time.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, but I was frozen in my place, suddenly remembering something. “Actually, I need to be somewhere right now. Have lunch without me.” I smiled as I tried to make my excuse go smooth.

“You’re skipping lunch again?” It disappointed Jean. She had her brow raised at me, but her tone was coated with disappointment. This was not the first time I’m excusing myself from lunch, anyway. “What have you been up to lately, really?”

“You said she’s working behind our backs. Going to the library?” Tanner teased as he leaned down on me; his hands were in the pocket of his coat.

I frowned. I don’t really want them to think I’m trying so hard to be on top of the class. I’m not. I’m not going to the library either. It’s just…

“It’s fine. Just make sure to take your lunch, huh?” Sue winked at me and dragged the two away. She silently gestured them to head to the cafeteria without me.

I sighed, watching them go. Jean and Tanner were shaking their heads in disappointment. I spun around only after they turned the corner, but glanced back again as I heard running footsteps. It’s Sue. She had a wide smile embedded in her small face, which dissolved the moment her feet halted in front of me.

Her lips pointed towards me as she whispered very carefully. “You’re still at it?”

I cautiously glanced around and at the other students walking in the hallway. Sue grabbed my hand to get my attention back to her. She squeezed it with assurance.

“I won’t tell anyone, but please, please… be careful. You shouldn’t really be doing this in school.”

I barely nodded. “I know.”

“Okay! We’ll be going now!” Her voice resonated in the hallway as if we talked about something interesting. That’s her way of concealing our sensitive topic. And I’m more than grateful for it.

Up to this day, I’m beholden she was the one who saw me at the empty schoolyard a month ago. I knew Tanner and Jean would do the same thing for me, but I wouldn’t want them to bring it up. I wouldn’t want them to be in trouble because of me. I would really want to keep it a secret from everyone, and I was glad Sue was doing that for me. Though I knew I constantly worried about her with my own doing.

For that moment, I honestly had second thoughts and planned to follow them instead. But my phone vibrated for a message from my mom.

I heard your exams are done. Your dad wishes to see you this Friday.

My fingers tightened around the phone. I refused to send a reply but had to do so. I settled with a simple ‘okay’.

Disappointed, I turned around to continue down the stairs and to the school back. This was not the same place Sue caught me. I had to move to another spot, for everyone’s sake. She could be nosy sometimes, and I didn’t want her to be with me while I do my thing.

The new spot was not pleasant enough for me. It was the end of the school premise, with high brick walls as boundaries. On the side were piles of broken chairs and tables. At the end was a small mountain of school garbage that would be collected every other week.

I heard this was usually where the school gang members met up to announce a battle against another clan. If they happened to see me here, which I hoped they wouldn’t, I would have something to get back at them so long as I caught them in the act, too.

Fortunately, all-goody students never come near here, so these young gangsters should only be my problem, just in case. Ironically, students in the higher ranks were often a threat to the likes of me. To the likes of us. Sometimes, those who the society claimed to be ‘worst and evil’ were actually the ones trustworthy.

I guess I would gain benefits from them. Because what’s more problematic than the problem itself? Nothing. I should be at ease here.

I brought out my make-up kit and pulled out one gold metal case with a personally engraved initial GD. It’s paired with gold lipstick but, in fact, more than conventional make-up stuff. The case had a mirror inside. Beneath it were cigarette sticks, and the lipstick was actually a small lighter. I preferred it over the one my dad used and which was often familiar to users nowadays.

I leisurely took one, lit the end with a lighter, and puffed with ease. Just like that, all the tension started to leave my rigid frame. It has only been exactly a year since I tried it, and I have no idea how to stop now. Possibly, I did not want to stop. Had I known it a little earlier, I would do it. Had I known it a little late, I still would. Nothing would change, and now it’s my life-saving grace.

I took another puff and watched the smoke circled around me as I leaned on the wall. The smoke no longer irritated me. If anything, it put my mind at ease. I looked at them as my random thoughts escaping my head before they evaporated into thin air. As the smoke faded into nothing, so were my thoughts. But that privilege would only last for minutes or until the taste lingering in my mouth was replaced by gummy fruits.

About a year ago, I met an old man in a waiting shed few blocks from school. I had no idea I would be this grateful with that fateful encounter. That man rudely blew smoke into my face. It was one of my awful days. I got failed grades, and it rained heavily the day before. I purposely soaked my report card and myself before going home. I could still remember the horrified look of Joe, our driver, when I refused to get inside the car and stepped away from his umbrella.

I was stupid to have forgotten my father is the school vice president, and he could easily know everything going on around me and my grades. My father never beat me or ever laid a hand on me. But the rage and disappointment in his eyes were enough to make me feel so little. Plus, his words were all nothing but the truth.

“I don’t know why I had a daughter when what I wanted was a son… I should have done something to fix the problem before it gets worse.”

Apparently, I was the problem.

The following day, I planned to run away from home. Frankly, that was yet another foolish idea. Where would I go? How long could I stay away from home? What would happen next? Would it be worth it?

I was at the bus stop, cursing myself for running from my driver. For sure, dad would throw a pit at him because of me. Worst, if he got fired. I kept cursing in my head but would refuse to accept the pity eating me alive. I was lost in my suffering when this old man blew smoke at me. That’s my impression of him at first glance. Looking up close, he didn’t look that old. It was his messy hair, growing stubbles, and baggy clothes that made him looked older than his age. I think he’s about the same age as my dad or older.

The smoke honestly gagged me to death. It’s suffocating. But when the man muttered, I was overreacting in a monotonous breath; I realized I was indeed exaggerating. I wasn’t even stirring to the smoke of passing vehicles.

“What are you doing?” I asked, actually pissed off. I shouldn’t be talking to a stranger. His worn-out clothes said enough of his life, and I should protect my belongings, or I would hear another mouthful of words from my dad.

But I didn’t move away from him, nor embraced my bag around me, or hid my accessories. Because as I thought of it, if he took everything, I would only have to tell my parents I got snatched on my way. That should be better than letting them find out I ever thought of running away.

“Smoking.” He puffed and blew another one, but he directed it to the air above us this time. How the smoke clouded us and, as if to hide us from the world, fascinated me. “Never seen anyone do this before?”

It wasn’t what my question meant. I meant why he did that to me. But his words ceased my lips from correcting him. My dad smoked. Expensive tobaccos than this old man’s. It wasn’t often, but he would, while sipping some alcohol. Usually, when he was in deep thoughts, he hardly noticed me watching with curiosity.

“Is that some kind of medicine?” I asked without thinking. Of course, they taught this in school, but I pay little attention to things that don’t interest me at all—much to my parents’ disappointment.

The man chuckled. It wasn’t shaky or mocking. It was genuine and thus surprising to me. Strange to hear something genuine from a stranger.

“I could kill every single person I met on my way and call it a medicine… You know it isn’t medicine, but why’d you think that?”

I rolled my eyes at the answer and went to turn around. But he continued.

“The young have a greater desire to know things than the adults. You should let that question take you and decide what’s a medicine and not.”

I didn’t understand what he meant then. But gradually, I came to realize it—or bits of it. I tried smoking and believed it’s a medicine because it helped me unwind. Alcohol was not yet suitable for me and I was afraid to find out how my actions would be once I got drunk, so I never tried. I’d be too young to buy anxiety pills, so this one was my only option.

Actually, it was the first option, and I never tried to get past it.

These were my dad’s. These were much easier to get at home than try to buy another option outside and get caught. I knew I took the man’s advice wrongly. But who’s to judge me now?

Sighing, I checked my phone to reread the message. I couldn’t tell what I was waiting for. My reply wasn’t demanding a response, so there’s nothing expected. But I typed another one nonetheless: I’ll have lunch with my friends.

I was still contemplating whether to send it or not when I heard noises somewhere. There were two ways to get here: from the front yard and the back. The empty yard was wide enough, but the entire school was exceptionally spacious, so there were many places for everyone to hang out. These gangsters were trying to own this yard, and the school was not doing anything about it.

I bet the administration had no idea. They wouldn’t try installing cameras here, and I liked it.

“You act cool, eh?... Why? What did you learn from your old school? Stare down the enemy? You don’t scare us, new boy! We may all be seniors and of the same age, but we’re still your seniors. You don’t stare back at us, huh? Huh?”

It’s not my problem, and I soon got used to ignoring such nonsense. Seriously? They still do childish things like this? Still, I took a peek to see the commotion, expecting to see two groups of young gangsters using nothing but words of threat in a fight for dominance. But to my surprise, the group of around seven senior boys was surrounding one boy. That explained the term ‘young boy.’ The group surrounded a single person.

For them to corner and outnumber the new guy alone revealed so much of how he threatened them. If he’s not so important, they shouldn’t mind him at all. But that’s how these lousy boys showed off their so-called gangster life―by taking advantage of the weak.

Or was I wrong?

The said ‘boy,’ who was much taller than the rest, casually walked past the leader. That’s one way to piss the group. I was feeling sorry for him already, but I was wrong. If there’s anyone pissed, it was him. My mind told me it was terrible news for the group.

One moment, he was a tame sheep around hungry wolves, and then the next, he became a wild lion, taking time with his prey, not minding whichever part of the animal kingdom they belonged to. He simply took ease shoving them despite the size and strength, or their number helping together to oust him.

The turn of events wasn’t only a shock to me but for the group, too. It horrified them. The look did not manifest it, but the new boy definitely knew how to fight. I was not even aware I was cheering for him to take those bullies down. But then he strode to the leader, who had a lot to say to him earlier, and started punching him squarely in the face—nonstop. Terrified to witness the scene, my silent support faded.

Everyone could only watch as their leader got punched into a pulp with ferocity. I couldn’t remember throwing the stick. It was gone from my shaking hand. I covered my mouth with my hands as I saw blood on the leader’s face. Still, the other boy continued his attack like a beast.

He panted for air as he finished. His broad back heaved heavily. I grabbed my bag and leaned to cover. My other hand pressed tightly against my lips, but when I inadvertently slipped on the garbage bags behind me, a gasp uncontrollably escaped my lips. I did not even realize I was standing real close to the trash.

Out of fear, I refuse to move, believing they heard my muffled scream. The aftermath left a heavy silence that stayed in the lot for ages. I only listened to the other boys rushing to help their badly beaten friends. I took it as a cue to move, too. I have no courage for confirmation.

Believing the ‘new boy’ was gone because the groups were back in motion, I ran away from the scene, not wishing to be involved with anything at all.