1 feisty (1)


IT WAS ALL I could do not to scream at the top of my lungs in frustration when I rushed out of the kitchen door that led straight to the garage, only to find out that the car was already gone.

Again. For the second time this week.

"Great, just great!" I yelled at the empty spot where the Vios should have been at this hour, but knowing it would do me no good, I stomped back inside the house in an angry fit to book myself a cab.

You are in so much trouble, Harold Joshua Delamar. So. Much. Trouble!

With clenched teeth, I made my way to the living room where the Wi-Fi signal was strongest and almost collided with my mother who was just coming down from the stairs.

"Oh, you're still here," she said in surprise, and I almost replied with something snappish like 'Obviously, hello?!' when I remembered this was mom I was talking to.

Je suis calme, girl.

Reining my anger in (just barely, though), I muttered darkly, "Yeah, but I'll be gone in a jiffy. There's someone I have to murder right now. Better prepare your mourning clothes, mum, you're losing your son today."

"Mary Clare!" she admonished, clearly horrified by my words. Even I must admit, I creeped myself out a bit. But because she was my mother and she knew me so well, there was a little hint of humor in her voice when she said, "He left you again, didn't he?"

"Yes, mom, he did! And guess what, I'm gonna make him pay for it. Oooh, he'd wish he was never born with what I'm gonna do to him, he'll see!" I seethed, fumbling with my smartphone to book a Grab ride, which thankfully was accepted in a matter of seconds.

My foot tapped on the tiled floor impatiently as I waited and waited...

You're so dead, H.D. Boy, you're so dead, I kept chanting inside my head as I envisioned the very many ways I was going to exact my revenge on him later. I was so pissed.

I might have let it pass without incident yesterday, when H.D. did the same thing to me, ditching me at 7:30 AM and I was forced to commute with barely-contained panic (commuting to school took an hour, whereas with a private car it only took ten minutes), only to arrive thirty-five minutes late for my first subject.

Let's just say, Mr. Belarmy had a few, very memorable words to say to me in front of the whole amused class while I stood shamefully on the platform, wishing the ground would miraculously open up and swallow me.

Not worth a repeat performance, I tell you.

But this time, dear brother was going to learn his lesson, and I was going to make sure he never even thought of leaving me again, not while we were still alive.

Yeah, okay. I exaggerate, but you get my drift.

I heard mom cluck her tongue beside me while I still waited for my ride to arrive.

"Don't be so hard on your brother, Clare. You know he had to leave early to squeeze in a little practice at the gym. He's vying for the team captain position of the basketball team, right? Give him a break, darling. He's just doing the best he can."

"Yes, but try-outs isn't until next-next week! And if he wants to practice so much, he can do it during the weekends when there's no school and no sister depending on his car to not get late! I should be the one he's giving a break, mom, not the other way around!"

I was aware I sounded like a whiny teenager right now—which was so not me, by the way—but maybe that was only because today was my first day of period, not that anyone would want to know that. But I just wanted to add the information, in case you're wondering why I was acting like some real spoiled bitch even though I wasn't. And it was only normal to be overdramatic and emotional and easily-pissed off at a time like this, yeah? No? Okay, well, then sue me and the other girls out there like me.

Rawr rawr rawr!

"Hush, now." Mom placed a hand on my shoulder and rubbed it soothingly. "It will be over soon. In two weeks, your routine will be back to normal, you'll see. Just be patient and whatever you're thinking, don't do anything to jeopardize your brother's dreams, okay, Clare? Clare."

"Huh?" I looked at my mom who was looking back at me pointedly. She seemed to be waiting for me to respond, so even though I was far from being agreeable, I grudgingly muttered, "Alright, fine. But this will be the last time I'm letting this happen. Or else."

"Good girl." She patted my shoulder approvingly. Then something seemed to have caught her attention because her head snapped towards to the window. "I think your ride is already here. Off you go then, while you still have time."

Right on cue, two honks sounded from outside and finally, it was time to leave. I bade my satisfied mother goodbye and practically sprinted across the lawn to get to the waiting car in record time. I told the driver to 'hurry, hurry please' because when I checked the time on my phone I realized I only had less than fifteen minutes before the final bell rang.

Mon Deux, I reeeally couldn't be late again today or Mr. Belarmy would have my head!

Mr. Driver, whose name was actually Mico Callesa, seemed to understand the situation with impressive depth, because after one curt nod, he steered the car expertly into traffic then suddenly, we were zooming with great speed, velocity, accuracy, agility, and—I just had to say it again—speed.

Wow, this man sure liked to drive fast.

Everything around us blurred past, which I was more grateful for than nervous about because at the rate we were going, we would be arriving at school in a matter of five minutes, and if I get to the room before the terror teacher arrived, I would be given the chance to salvage what little dignity I had left, if only to prove to Mr. Belarmy that I wasn't a habitually tardy person.

Well, if Mr. Callesa could manage to save my ass today, I was willing to pay him extra because he deserved it. He deserved to be built a statue in his honor for being so thoughtful and considerate and cool, unlike someone I knew who was, unfortunately, related to me.

As we cruised along the south road expressway, I kept my gaze outside the window, with only one thought stuck on my mind.

You better hide from me, H.D., because if I ever get my hands on you, you're dead meat.


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