2: Mister President
Since I had a few minutes left, I decided to use the bike that I stole from someone named Ruby, if not mistaken, so that I could go to my classroom fast.
“Stop right there.”
I automatically pulled the break, using my right leg to support myself and the bike. His low baritone voice can be heard at the other end of the quiet hallway.
One corner of my lips twitches before facing him. “What?” I asked, irritated.
“How many times do I have to warn you–“
I cut him off since his words were like a mantra that I had already memorized. “That no bikes are allowed blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda. I know,” I finished off his statement.
“And, you still did not oblige to the rules given to you prior. Why are you so hard-headed, Miss Versiocho?” he asked with a stern voice, brows knitting.
“I’m already late. What shall I do, then? If I could run around here, aside from it will disturb the lessons of the instructors, they’ll surely scold me.”
He squinted his eyes at me. “You only thought about the instructors. What about the janitors that will clean up the traces you left?” he inquired, pointing to the burnt markings that trail till the end of the wheels of the bike where I stopped.
The owner of it will get a brand new bike, and that’s for sure since I waste another wheel. My fingers can’t count how many bicycles have been ruined and returned new.
“Okay, sorry. That’s sincere. I’ll make it up to you next time. Just… not right now, I’m already late.” I pouted. He, declining my request, is waving.
I had a quiz in my first subject but the janitor needed my help cleaning my mess.
I set the bike aside when I got closer to him. If I can’t count how many wheels I burnt, likewise those bicycles that he confiscated. The same amount of the newly returned bikes, with Chaos’ help.
He sighed and wrote something in his notebook “I’ll excuse you–”
What the–! ‘Here he goes again!’
“No! We have a quiz today!” I reasoned out and I ain’t lying about that. I’ll suffer forever if I don’t partake in that 60 item quiz.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care.”
‘Look at this jerk!’
“Please?” I pleaded, holding his hand as I tried to see if making the puppy's eyes would work for him.
He just looks at me with his usual stoic expression and yanks my hand away. “No.”
“Pretty please~?” I pushed.
He shook his head. “That trick of puppy eyes won’t work for me, Miss Versiocho.”
“Fine!” I can’t push my luck here, don’t I? “Do I have a choice, anyway?”
I cringed as I remembered that I had tried to do some cute moves for him, for me to let it slide.
“Good,” he tersely responded.
Rolling my eyes, I gave him two thumbs-up, annoyed. “Are you happy now? Happy?” I clicked my tongue. Irritation can be traced to my voice.
“More than glad that it can’t be put into words if you start cleaning your mess.” He smirked and pointed his thumb past his shoulder. That’s the way to the Janitor’s Room.
I rolled my eyes and dejectedly dragged the bike with me, but halted along the way when something stopped my bike from moving. When I turned to face what it was, I saw him holding the saddle, that’s why it wouldn’t move.
“Where will you bring this trash? Leave it here. Another collection of yours will go straight to the junk,” he stated, arching his thick right brow up.
Huffing, I tried my best to sedate the storm going on inside my body. “Okay, fine.”
I abandoned the bicycle and left him there.
“Make sure that there will be no burnt marks on the tiled floor or else you’ll go to write–”
“Got it, ‘lright?! Jeez!” I dashed away far from him. If I didn’t, surely, he'd earn a punch from me.
“Oh, Demian, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in your class right now? If I can recall clearly, you told me yesterday that you had a quiz to take today.” Berto, one of the janitors, curiously looked at me.
Every janitor knew me because of our President of the Student Council.
“It looks like I can’t take that quiz,” I said, making sure that the guy guarding me, not that far, would hear it.
I frowned as I thought about how much time I used just to study our lessons. “I studied our lessons real hard last night and it will just go to waste. I guess my stock knowledge will stay stocked because of that certain person who was just around the corner who didn’t let me pass.”
I want to flip our President but I can’t, so I’ll just let him hear me complain.
‘I’m losing my patience with you, President!’
Berto chuckled while putting the large black plastic bag of trash in the bin.
“What did you do this time?” he asked, facing me. “You know that Mister Dizon won’t confront you without any reason,” he added, placing the bin once again in its original spot.
Two corners of my lips pulled downwards as I remember what happened moments ago, then, here’s Berto laughing at me. Are there any unfortunate things that will happen today?
“I used my bike in the hallway,” I admitted what offense I committed.
Yesterday, I accidentally destroyed one of the classroom’s doorknobs. The frontal wheel hit it. It wasn’t fully my fault, half of it was the President’s since he was the one who popped out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of me. In exchange for ruining the property of the school, he made me clean the male’s comfort room.
The middle-aged man shakes his head and helps me clean my mess. It seems like the President’s fine with it since he isn’t saying anything against it.
“If I fail on that terror instructor’s subject, I’ll take my revenge onto him,” I complained in a hushed voice, making the old man cackled.
“Be patient, Demian.” Berto tapped my shoulder.
Sighing, I responded, “Okay,” dejectedly.