Once again, I’m back to this writing board of mine to tell about the most heart breaking (when I woke up which was minutes from now) story in the world. This is probably by far the most realistic one I must say.
Anyway, to start off, there was absolutely no start. All I remember was a cool, cloudy afternoon at home alone in my room. My windows were widely open so I could see the humungous grey cumulus clouds coming ahead. I checked on my Twitter and David was giving a big Twitter party. After times and times I’ve tried to grasp his attention; I never suceeded. Either the boy was too slow to catch up with his mentions or he doesn’t like my Aslan profile picture (maybe both).
So, I sat there, watching the Archies I’ve followed flood my timeline like a cyclone. I saw David’s tweets piling in at the same time. I clicked the new tweets button every now and then. I got pretty bored but really happy for the others. I read the tweets syllable by syllable. Then came David’s tweet to All Things Archie: “@AllThingsArchie Haha! I think the fifteen year old girl is lovely! @Char_Charizard”
And so, I died (more like a relapse one). Really, my jaw dropped onto the ground but let’s just say I died. I screamed in my thoughts, “I’M THE FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL BUT REALLY I’M THIRTEEN, DAVID, OH MY GOD, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.”
So the next day, I had an Art exam coming up—Art Paper 1 for my SPE (Student Progress Examination). I got ready for school with my uniform; teeth brushed; and showered. Before leaving for school, I decided to call David (I seriously don’t know how the hell did I get his phone number). Since he was so gracious about me during his Twitter party, I figured why not? Once he picked up, I started giving as many thanks I could as possible in such a short amount of time due to my examination timings are strict.
“Oh yeah, sure, no problem!” I heard his velvety voice on the line.
“So how’s Hong Kong so far?” I asked.
“Not bad, I love this place already!”
“That sounds great! Well, I have to go now, big exam; life at stake thing; long story; wish I could stay and tell but I seriously have to go. Sorry!” I was in a mighty hurry.
“Oh, yeah, sure, good luck!”
After a goodbye from him already made my day. I love how his voice chirped over the line—basically, I could listen to him everyday and never get tired of it.
I arrived at school the usual. I had my I.C in my pocket; my pencil because there was drawing involved in the Theory paper; my eraser and a lot of pens (I don’t know why either. In real life, I only had a pen to bring into the hall). My not-so-good-of-a-friend, Sharon, came up to me to stir up a chat. What she least expected was some spazzing momentum from me, “AND HE CALLED ME LOVELY ON TWITTER. LOVELY. ME. HE THINKS I’M LOVELY. OH MY GOD. I’M GONNA DIE. EVERYONE KNOWS NOW THAT DAVID THINKS I’M LOVELY.”
Out of the blue, my Art teacher swept by out conversation. We discussed a few exam questions which are gonna come out in the SPE exam (he set the paper since Art isn’t much of a compulsory subject). We were told to line up according to our name list; as always I was the last because I’m a ‘Y’. We were cramped into this messy room where the afternoon kids were placing their bags in. It was such a sucky environment to execute a government exam.
Once we’ve settled down into the small classroom, we began to answer the easy questions. I did it with ease; fast as lightning until I’ve encountered a question that is in use of colour pencils.
“Shit!!” I thought. “Colour pencils! How could I have forgotten!?”
I asked for permission to be excused to the bathroom but instead I decided to call for my father so I can get home, grab my colour pencils and return back to the hall. My plan was to go to the office and call him up but I saw his car sitting in the parking lot. I quickly hopped into the car, told him I left my colour pencils and is in need to have a ride back home.
As I got back home, I checked the time; the paper lasts about 2 hours and a half. I just miss an hour and a half to do the paper. Panicking, I trashed my whole room to search for my pack of colour pencils. I was completely lost, hyperventilating. This resulted me into calling David, again.
“Hello?”
“David, I have a problem. I’m panicking right now and I can’t find my colour pencils. I’m dying, David, I’m dying. I’m gonna fail my Art Theory exam and not go to the next level. David, please, I can’t find my colour pencils,” I said breathlessly as I paced around the room.
“Slow down! You’ll be fine.”
“Well, why don’t you just get down here and help me find it?! I’m running against time. I’m afraid by the time I get there I won’t get to finish up the ten marks’ question!” I exaggerated; my eyes, perhaps, started to swell up with tears.
“Whatever you do, don’t panic. Just calm down and find the colour pencils, then get back to the exam and ace it, alright?” he assured me graciously.
“Fine,” I replied quietly.
I hung up after that started running around from my room into the living room. My mind was scattered everywhere; taking constant takes at the nearest clock. Consequences of me failing one subject of the SPE examination projected through my mind.
At the end of my panic attack, my missing colour pencils appeared out of nowhere. I jumped in triumph. Finally, I got back to my exam. Suddenly, everything went blank. All I could hear was David’s voice echoing, “Lovely!”
My heart pounded like crazy that awoke me. My eyelids flung open. I was on bed, breathless. My room was sunny. I flailed and kicked my legs on bed, “HE CALLED ME LOVELY. OH MY GOD. DAVID, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. LOVELY. DAVID CALLED ME LOVELY! I BETTER GET OUT FROM MY BED RIGHT NOW AND CHECK MY TWITTER. EEEEEEEEEEP. I’M LOVELY!! DAV…….Oh shit.”
Realizing it’s the real world led me to yell, “AH SHIT.” At 9 o’clock in the morning.