Chapter 3

The instant I got out from Centineo's sight, I fished out my phone and instantly googled 'Authoress'. It had won the Booker Award last year, at Wikipedia said. Kind of a big deal for a high schooler it is, is it?

Apart from the usual ', 'I am your greatest fan and I love you', there was quite a lot of intellectual looking comments laying on the website.

One of them said, " It is a very good book. It insights the situation in stupid boy dramas which often tend to glorify rape as enthralling and hot torture. It also explains why we should not assume someone's worth just because of their criminal sentences. Even though Gilbert was practically innocent, he was sent to jail as a rapist. Kore, the protagonist, understands him and tries to bring him back to life. Definitely, the best getaway from cheap bad boy smuts. Thnx! Thnx! Continue writing these books."

Is the protagonist's name just a coincidence?

The next one read like, "According to the book, rapists should be allowed to watch over themselves and convert themselves into good citizens. And what about the lives of the victim? Such sons of bitches should be killed the instant they are discovered."

There was a reply to it, "Notice how you wrote the B-word for another woman who absolutely had nothing to do with the case itself. And killing someone is harsh and cruel. Of course, in order to protect the law, the high degree offenders have to die. But, in the end, we want to establish a better society. Not a one who in return for hate and pain gives pain and hate, instead of proper care and guidelines."

Centineo's reply froze me.

"The fact that Kore decides to support a rapist just because of her own beliefs cannot always work out. I believe, emotions are the best and worst attribute of humans. People who are asking for justice are using their emotions as the driving force. If we didn't had emotions, we wouldn't have given a second thought to crimes. But then again, without emotions criminals wouldn't have hurt people, because they just wouldn't have the power the emotions called hate and lust provides. And, of course, without emotions nobody would have felt hurt. It's all just fucking impossible. And above everything, I think no one is absolutely evil. We all have hate and love inside. It's all just the play of emotions. "

As I read word by words, I felt that everything made sense for the first time in my life. I had always had this feeling that even if I wasn't wrong nobody else was also. And that we were all feeling whatever our head commanded us too. And that I had no say in my own emotions. Centineo's way of addressing emotions is the exact same as what I have believed it as: Your life is a play created out of your own emotions.

I needed to buy this book, churn up it's words in a drink and gulp it down my throat. But, the price was higher than I expected- $13.49/

Probably not a price affordable by the likes of me. But, the deep hole inside me began to grow deeper and deeper, and the only remedy was reading that book. It might have the answers I have been searching for all these years.

At last, after finding no ways to bring that book to my table, I decided that I must visit Mrs. Ora. All these years, I haven't asked anything, perhaps, she may complete my this one desire.

The moment I step inside my house, a wave of noxious stench washed over my body. It was the odor of a rat, a rotting rodent. And did I mention, I dislike rats?

After exterminating that little piece of blood and meat, I cleaned my hands and made my way to Mrs. Ora's house. I had no homework today and I also had to meet Centineo at Cornelia Street. Mrs. Ora lived nearby that street, so, I thought it would be less time consuming to visit her today.

Mrs. Ora had the personality of Bill Sikes, was a miser like Ebenezer scrooge, and had the looks of Mrs. Havisham; live Dickens spirit.

The door was opened by Nathan, her grandson or something. I never got to know her family chart that well.

"Good Morning." I said, although it was past noon now.

"Good afternoon" he had a solid good boy wedge hairstyle with a side parting, a checkered shirt buttoned up with grey tapered fit pants.

"Is Mrs. Ora at home?" I asked.

"Yeah." He gestured me to get inside without even looking at me. They were, as the above examples set, pure Catholics.

Mrs. Ora was reading a book whilst sipping a cup ginger tea. Her face was perfectly painted with a nice layer of foundation and concealer and deep red lipstick. Her fake eyelashes and blue eyeliner made her eyes pop out as usual. No matter how many times I see this extravagant makeup it always has the same effect on me. Utter silence and disbelief on how can she bear that.

"Good Afternoon, Mrs. Ora." I greeted, tongue in check.

She closed her book at gave me her full attention.

"What brings you here today, Jacintha Fergus?" She always addressed me by my first and middle name.

"I am here for money," I said in simpler terms, "You see, the Shropshire family is moving out and I don't seem to have any other job now but lots of problems. And my house is very inconvenient to live in, so..." I led my voice trail off.

She stood up making my hairs stand up with her.

"Is something wrong?" I said.

She sighed a heavy breath, " Glad you came to me this time. I have a great job for you. My friend's family needs a maid. You can go there. And yes, they are providing living space and food." She went on and on as if I had no say in this matter.

"But, I don't know them." I made a small excuse.

She rolled her eyes, "Even with your best friends, you have a first time. That is not a reason to let go of this perfect opportunity. Besides, once you turn eighteen my doors will be closed for you."

Of course, I couldn't say anything to that. I never could.

With a clouded head, I reached Cornelia Street. It was 7 PM, now. Yet, the street was quite barren. I searched for Centineo through my eyes but he was nowhere to be seen. I waited for a whole hour. He never came. He had boycotted me.