Showing posts with label random story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random story. Show all posts

Thursday, 26 June 2025

ill timed — 4

the ill timing of smug adults — chapter 4

Mr. Plod's scream was loud enough to breach the walls of Crestmoore Elite, reach his ancestors' graves and echo off of them. 

"Get off me, you little pest!" Mr. Plod announced, chubby hand pressed against the little girl's freckled forehead and pushing hard against it. Her teeth clutched tighter, his small fingers let go of their hostages, Kairos scrammed with wide eyes and a hung jaw, Yasin backed away with a hand against his mouth and tears in his eyes. Tears of disbelief. 

When all saw crises, Henrik Stratford saw opportunity.  

Henrik, baffled beyond belief but very amused, stepped over Headmistress Lissy's wingback chair and jumped over the scene of action. Headmistress Lissy banged her hand against her desk, shouting, "This is a place of discipline! stop this raging buffoonery right away!"

No one paid heed to her. 

Henrik, trying all his rich-boy-luck, stood behind the little girl and poked her sides right over her wais-tbone. 

"EEYAAP!" she screamed with raw terror.

Upon instinct, she jumped away, releasing Mr. Plod's now wet and very red, marked arm, and fell back. Henrik, very swiftly this time, dogged her body and pulled a flustered Kairos as collateral damage. 

The girl fell over Kairos Rodrigo, head and back saved from impact by the Persian carpets spread over Headmistress Lissy's office floors. Limbs tangled, Henrik grinned, a boxy wide smile of fresh revenge, over the groaning bodies of the distressed duo and turned to face an equally distressed trio.

Yasin had Mr. Plod's arm in his hand, very daintily blowing over the fresh, wet, cuts, looking almost motherly with his concern, "Sh… it gets better, it'll be okay, don't you worry, it'll be fine, sir," while Headmistress Lissy was having a whole mental breakdown over her ruined carpets, "My dollars, my pretty sheep's wool—it was hand woven! I fed her—my- silks-!"

The trash-girl bared her teeth at Kairos, kicked him away and stood up. The poor boy clutched his gut and did not even pretend to make any attempts to scrape off his dead dignity and try stand up again. He curled on the carpets, folding his hands close to his chest, but the garbage stench emanating from them made him give up all over again and flinch away from himself. There was a 'do not disturb, i am mourning," sign spiritually plastered on everyone's face at that moment. 

To say that Henrik was satisfied enough for incurring loss to all parties involved would be an understatement. His mind went, 'Ha! If I get puked on, you all take that!" 

The trash-girl had walked up to Yasin, who was fanning over Mr. Plod, and pushed them apart. Standing between the two, she turned to face red-faced-Mr. Plod with her equally furious brown eyes, pointing an accusatory finger at his chubby chin as she enunciated each word with entitled precision, "You will not hurt him! You will not punish him! You will no—"

For a proper second, Yasin's breath was struck right out of his lungs. Then, his braincells acted with cohesion. 

Her demands were cut off my Yasin's hand slithering over her mouth and holding her still as Mr. Plod, who had had enough indignity for a day, spoke up, "You! Who are you?! How dare you little pest disrupt the discipline of Crestmoore Elite! How dare you disrespect me and my orders! I will have your parents called! I will have this slander reported to media! All of you! Crestmoore shall know what hooligans will next inherit her! I am going to ruin all of you!"
His words hit like an ancient gong.

Kairos curled into himself again, hugging his hands to his chest now; breaths laboring and eyes clenching shut upon Mr. Plod's threats. Henrik gulped a shaky breath, fear growing his hands cold. Yasin's hand dropped from the girl's mouth and rested around her shoulders as he started pressing his thumbnail against the skin of his fingers. Over and over. 

"Mr. Plod Danderdan! You will do no such thing that brings shame upon Crestmoore Elite! Do I make myself clear?!" Headmistress Lissy stood up, ceasing the threats with her spine chilling, authoritative, voice that left no room for further discussion. Her molten gold eyes stared Mr. Plod down to a mush. 

Mr. Plod's beady eyes stared down at the furious looking littlegirl, still held back in Yasin's arms, and went back to Headmistress Lissy. His pride had taken a hit upon being denied of his authority in front of children. Rich brats. "Detention, for the whole year, graveyard shift with Mr. Turner," Mr. Plod's words were dripping with vehemence and restrained cooperation, "And I will be calling their families myself. They have the right to know." 

A collective round of sighs were passed around the office. 

"Very well, but it is Mr. Rodrigo's first day at Crestmoore," Headmistress Lissy's golden eyes whisked over her lavish furniture only to find Kairos springing up, from the floor, upon mention. His face had lost all color, so had Henrik and Yasin's, upon the mention of word reaching out to their families.  

"Yes…Ma'am?" Kairos' words were a question, his fingers were twisting a battle amongst themselves and the tightness of his jaw conveyed a lot to Headmistress Lissy's trained eyes. 

"That does not lets him off—"

Headmistress Lissy's hand stopped Mr. Plod from creating further argument. "What were you doing around East Crest when the morning assembly takes place in the West Crest?" Headmistress Lissy questioned the ravenette. 

"I—uh, I, um, was heading to the um—canteen? ...Cafeteria? Luncheon? C-ca-"

"--Crest Dining Hall," Henrik helpfully supplied. 

"Yes! The dining hall, crest I mean, for bread. I feel nauseous if I don't eat breakfast before starting my day—I, um, I am sorry I should have waited!" Kairos finally finished his statement and bent ninety degrees in apology. 

"Wow, you really don't waste time, do you?" the little girl cheekily interjected. 

Seven pairs of eyes glared at her. 

She shrugged out of Yasin's hold in response and smiled. Her smile was wide, her lips were parted with no dignity and her eyes were crinkled with a humorous kindness in them, Kairos noticed. 

She, standing in her stained-shirt, dirty skirt, torn stockings, shoeless, with mousy brown hair a mess. Smiling, carelessly, as if doing whatever her heart told her to do was the only socially accurate response to life. How… foolish. 

In that moment, Kairos Rodrigo realized a very important detail by himself: No amounts of fresh clothes, elaborate backgrounds, titles, gelled hair or pleasant curtsies of his world could amount to a genuine person's confidence from the otherworld. It takes a whole world of lavishes to break him but not make him. 
 
It's sad. Kairos Rodrigo realised that he was a sad person when people were glaring at trash-girl for making fun of him. He's sad alright.

"There will be no phones disturbing Minister Rodrigo from his duty, very well then, off you go, Kairos, to attend the orientation ceremony," Headmistress Lissy cleared out, much to everyone else's distaste. The ravenette was overjoyed, nonetheless of his epiphany. 
Kairos all but jumped up in a flurry of 'Thank You's and 'I am sorry's as the boy slid his way out of the office and politely shut the door behind him. Begrudgingly, Henrik smiled a small smile for his friend. 

"What about Yasin? You gonna go do this to him? He only helped me out--!" the littlegirl began with desperation in her eyes. 

"Please take this girl to Crest Lab, run some scans and find out if she is lying or not. I shall report this to the Sheriff in a while. He'll know what to do with her." Headmistress Lissy gestured her assistants to make a move. Mr. Plod smirked a smug smirk as the little girl tried holding onto Yasin but was pushed away by the blonde boy with bitterness in his eyes. 

The assistants sneaked their arms underneath the betrayed-looking-girl's underarms, raised her resistant body over their shoulders and carried her dangling self out of the office. 

Henrik rolled his eyes. 

"Very well, Mr. Hadid, I must say I did not expect you to be involved in something like this," Headmistress Lissy settled back in her chair and crossed her arms against her chest, scrutinizing Yasin's lanky and scared form. The little blondette assumed posture, folding his hands behind his back before proceeding with explanations.  

"I was at Soccer practice this morning, Headmistress Lissy. Michael kicked the ball too hard and it went out of the field, hitting a trashcan. He was afraid of being reprimanded so I ran to collect the ball in lieu of him. I was simply doing a mate a favor when I saw the trashcan rolling over with actual, human, legs jutting out of it! And there were screams! Imagine my surprise...!"
"We all do," Henrik chided under his breath.
"... I saw Mr. Rodrigo running after it; I was quite frankly very surprised. I remained unacquainted with Mr. Rodrigo at that point of time and merely thought it was a student trying to bullying someone. Hence, I stepped in to help. I remain corrected, of course, for Mr. Rodrigo and Henrik were merely trying to help as well." 

Henrik Stratford raised an eyebrow at the speaking blonde, wondering when they got on first name bases with Yasin Hadid of all people. Nevertheless, Henrik was impressed by Yasin's eloquent reiteration of their eventful morning. Unfortunately, Henrik too had to save his arse and come out in a good light before someone called his parents. So, he would have to, pretty deliberately, soil Yasin's plans. 
There was a sharp twinge of evil in Henrik Stratford's soft brown eyes before he assumed position and started with his impositions. 

"I would hate to interrupt, Miss Head Ma'am, but you see I am merely a victim of circumstances and ill fated friends. You see, Kairos discovered the body—the girl, whatever, and Yasin saved her or whatever—I was merely a bystander of the circumstance." Henrik smiled a smug smile, clearing out his name would be easy.

"They all lie, Headmistress, all of them ran when they saw me! They were clearly brewing some notoriety up," an aggravated Mr. Plod couldn't help but speak up.

"Correction, Mr. Plod Sir, I was very much vomited upon and furious about my lost and very expensive perm. I was very much there. Can't say the same about the other two…"

Yasin, scoffing out loud, eyes going wide at the pure accusatory tone, jumped, vocally, to defend himself, "It was merely an instinct of being misunderstood and receiving punishment!"

"Said every defaulter ever, yes, Miss Head Ma'am, I rest my case here," Henrik smiled, turning around to point at his vomit covered head and showing it clearly, "Damage to private property has occurred and the incompetence of Crestmoore's security system is responsible. I would like you to compensate me by dropping all detention charges on me, effective henceforth."
In a school ran on the terms of adults, where the students were treated as adults, there was no other way but to tackle it like an adult. 

Yasin's fist clenched, unclenched, bit the insides of his cheeks, then folded his hands behind his back again. Henrik was the son of the two most successful lawyers the world would have ever seen— there was no use countering his tactics. Yasin's family was good and honest, not fuelled by illegal activities like the Stratfords. They would always be incomparable.

Headmistress Lissy, upon receiving the outrageous but very accurate allegation of her school's incompetence, stared Henrik down as if he were a piece of filth and picked up the white hand phone resting over her desk. She pressed a button and spoke into it, "I want the security footage of the last twenty-four hours delivered to me. Instantaneously."

Henrik, proud of his argument and ignorant of his involvement in the case by the photograph he had clicked, seated himself on one of the wingback chairs. 

"Mr. Plod, don't you need to get that checked by the nurse?" Headmistress Lissy questioned coldly. Mr. Plod shook his head.

"I will wait for justice to be served. I want to call all of their houses using the Headmistress' phone," Mr. Plod scornfully replied. Yasin's gut dropped precisely how his company's shares would when the news gets out.  

But before Headmistress Lissy could counter Mr. Plod's bold statement, her office doors banged open and in rushed her assistant with a tablet in her hand. 

"Mademoiselle! We ran her prints…and I think you should see this!"

          ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

ill timed — 3

Ill timing of a fangirl's bite — chapter 3
"Your name?"

"I—uh, um…don't know…?"

Headmistress Lissy tipped her navy beret an inch overhead, watching through her cat-eye glasses the audacious presence of a stinking child soiling the beautiful teal velvets of her wingback chair with her soggy arse. "Peculiar," she worded out with utmost resistance. 

Henrik turned to stare at the girl, almond eyes widened as if to say 'it-is-no-time-to-conceal-your-identity-when-confessing-will-let-you-off-with-detention.' In the sophisticated blue and gray palette of Headmistress Lissy's office almost glaring at Henrik's cherry bomber jacket and neon chunky sneakers coordinated over the plaid blues of his school uniform, the small boy pursed his lips with utmost submission, while his mind mused 101 ways to get rid of Kairos Rodrigo without leaving evidence. 
 
Way one: hiding his best friend's body in a trashcan and closing the lid shut.
His murderous reverie was interrupted by the trashcan girl's curious explorations of the stationary placed on Headmistress Lissy's woodcarved tabletop. Her dark eyes greedily took in all curious details, rubbing her fingers over the intricate designs on the table edge and sniffing the fake lilies bottled atop. 

To ask Henrik if he felt more embarrassed than betrayed would be too obvious of a question. 

"What happened to you?" Headmistress Lissy narrowed her jelly-gold eyes at the form of trashgirl's face pressed against her aquarium. The girl had sucked her cheeks in and pursed the ends of her lips to form a fish pout. She hid the fishes from perspective with her big head and aligned her wiggling lips to fake the sight of blowing out bubbles from her mouth.

"Hehe, look, I'm making bubbles!"

Henrik, in that moment, decided to never acknowledge this strange creation even as an acquaintance. They shall remain strangers, forever. 

Headmistress Lissy was taking this ill timed intrusion, rather well, against her reputation of damning a child with detentions at every breathable misconduct.

"How did you reach Crestmoore Elite? I understand that you were found in a trashcan by the East Crest Soccer Stadium, but, how did you get inside the premise without proper identity credentials?" Headmistress Lissy gestured her assistants with her piercing bespectacled gold gaze.

Henrik slithered to a safe side as Headmistress Lissy's assistants gloved their hands with medical gloves. While one of them held the girl's wrists hostage, the other conducted a thorough search of the girl's tattered shirt, brown plaid skirt and ruined socks. She resisted with minor pursuits, but eventually gave up when she spotted a poster of Yasin Hadid pinned next to a door.

He was in his soccer jersey with a headband reading C. E. A. His mouth was pulled in a wide grin as a soccer ball was tucked under his right arm and his left arm was extended in a big thumbs-up gesture. 

"Who is he?" the girl asked with bubbling glee, her knees had gotten jittery and dark eyes pooled genuine prying.
"Why do you want to know?" was Headmistress Lissy's crisp reply.

"He saved my life. I am in love with him," was her straightforward clarification.
Henrik, who was sat on a chair with his legs crossed over his knees, scoffed just as audibly as Headmistress Lissy snorted. Disney certainly was not lost to her. 

"You don't know your name but you know what love is?" Headmistress Lissy sounded amused, the skin around her small eyes crinkled as she placed her elbows on the tabletop and cupped her chin in her palms. Her thin peach lips stretched to a smirk, intrigued by the person standing before her.

'Is she hiding information to avoid punishment? Or...a spy, perhaps? Intresting, nonetheless.
 
"Irrelevant. I just needed occasion to use all these words in my head. Decapitated. Why is that in my head? Hallucinogen? What even? I don't know. But, what I know is, that, he is handsome and I want to know him." The girl's index finger pointed sharply at Yasin's smiling face. Immobile. Unaware. Henrik tsked a little sound of pity for the soccer player. 

Headmistress Lissy frowned at the girl's odd selection of words. Someone who looked eight could possibly not have the word 'Hallucinogen' in their vocabulary. 'What had happened to this girl?' 

Headmistress Lissy's assistants backed away from the girl's body, empty handed. They had found nothing that would not have been visible to a naked eye. Her eyes travelled to Henrik Stratford, son of Jung and Mina Stratford, owners of the biggest Law firms in Crestmoore. Her eyes skipped to the paper in front, reading in bold, the names of Kairos Rodrigo and Yasin Hadid. 

The finest kids Crestmoore had to offer. 
 
'Such a strange gathering of elite folks around a trashcan, finding a missing person… with no memory…did they find her…or was it all a scheme?' Headmistress Lissy's brain ran a mile a minute. 

Henrik's brown hair were stuck up in an odd angle, curtsy the girl's vomit. His face too was smudged with dirt and he too stank of rotting breakfast and misfortune, just not as badly as the girl. He had an air of nonchalance, as always, he sat with confidence and there was no physical giveaway of him having possibly abducted a girl around his age and having shoved her in a trashcan of his school.

'The son of two immensely successful lawyers would know enough to comprehend it a bonkers plan to begin with.'

'Also, there was no motive.'

'Right?'

Headmistress Lissy pondered in her head as the girl had jogged up to Yasin's poster and tried flipping it over, to check out the back side, all the while Henrik's soul abandoned him slowly for he tried crossing his hands at his wrists, whispering, "No! Trashcan! Don't touch it!" and even fell off his wingback chair to gain her attention. 

All of his efforts were vain to her. 

His knees rubbed against the rough carpet underneath and tingled with burns. Instant regret 101 by Henrik Stratford. He sucked in an agitated breath, caressing his poor sacrificed knees over the silky fabric of his uniform, while giving the girl a stink eye.
 
The alleged villain of a girl stood grinning in front of the poster, head empty and all thoughts abandoning self concern. Her eyes only registered the pinned smiling face looking down at her. She in her ragged clothes, he in a uniform that belonged to him. She with no identity of her own, he whose achievements shone as bright as his kind smile. Worlds apart. Yet, for a moment, he had held her whole world in his small hands. 

At her moment of eight, spinning controllably like an abandoned ball, he was there to hold her still.

Unintentionally so.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

The door clicked open and in walked the man of her dreams, pulled by his reddening ear, curtsy the chubby hands of Mr. Plod, along with a wave of nasally, "Ow, Ow, Ouch! Why! Ow! Wow! Why?! No! Wow! Ow!"s in tow. Quite similarly, but much calmly, followed the dragged, lanky, form of Kairos Rodrigo with an upturned smile.

The girl's newfound heart almost lurched out of its cage. She may not know much about the world. She may know nothing about herself. Maybe her mind was plagued with random gibberish like, 'Oral,' 'Amity,' or 'Syndicate.' But the only anchor in her memory is the face of Yasin, who helped her. Whom she must be loyal to. Whom she must protect. 

"Caught 'em sneaking inside the Main Crest Hall," Mr. Plod announced with his smug, thick accent. With a boy to punish on either side, his heart swelled with pride. Henrik, too, cheekily poked his tongue at Kairos' don't-say-anything-i-have-given-up-on-you face. 

The girl, stupefied by the harsh treatment of her newfound idol, rushed to the best, sanest, possible conclusion one could attain instinctually. 

She jumped at Mr. Plod like a spirit from the jungle. Like a true descendent of the monkey ancestors. Like a squirrel at its nut. Like a proper wild animal out of its natural habitat. Like a beast hungry for revenge. 

And bit off Mr. Plod's hand from Yasin's ear. 

Crowned - 16 | On A Mission (part one)

  “We won’t blast a church!” Kairo snapped, ever the voice of reason. Elvira agreed, nodding vehemently. “It would bring too much of unnec...