Love TriangleA Story by ChilisWell, uhm... what?
Love Triangle
By Chilis (2010)
Ever been caught up in a grisly
situation where you keep hoping for your magic moment with the person you’ve
always had visions of being with, but then factors beyond your reach keep
thwarting you? A situation where you feel frustration slowly eating you up
because you’re being you, and no matter how much you try to get what you want
it stays out of reach. I’m talking about a state where you’re caught up in a
love triangle. It’s funny, however, as long as it stays a triangle of love, no
matter how unappealing you might be, in the end, things always take a twisted
turn.
Tenth grade can really be a gym in a co-education
school especially if you’re the stereotypical intelligent girl who just happens
to be lovelorn because of some dashing student named Oliver, and of course if
your first name has fifteen letters.
First off, there I was, wasn’t much of a view " nothing
short of ugly and had an irredeemably low self-esteem. Then there was a guy
scarcely any different to a prince, had much to live for, less or nothing at
all to lose, and was seriously adored by practically every girl in school. And
it gets so much the better; inevitably, as life’s axiom cruelly demands, there
had to be another girl.
Ella was incredibly invincible. Just the sound of
her name was enough to flood one’s imagination with roses and all kinds of
sweet-smelling bikini. She was like this goddess of pulchritude " the genuine
prototype for all the supermodels we see today. Her silhouette alone would do
three quarters the job of magnetizing the entire clique of popular boys, so
that when she finally got to do the talking all she had to say was ‘seeing is believing, hunk’. I’m not
sure I was supposed to refer to her as the third party because technically I
was the one playing gooseberry. She was flattering, enviable, had a
million-dollar face, and, guess what, she was my arch rival. Unbelievable!
Part of all I wished for was to dance with Oliver at
prom. But come on, who am I kidding? Not until pigs fly will he offer me a
dance. Pray as I may, I knew I was flogging a dead horse anyway; I mean all my
chances were exhausted right from scratch. I must have been jinxed the very day
I arrived in that class. It was so unfortunate because I had recently turned
fifteen and puberty had just kicked in. Acne never comes in very handy if you
want to establish a fine reputation, in which case it decided to first appear
as a huge disgusting pimple on the tip of my nose. It is true that mud sticks "
people will live to remember it for as long as they don’t get amnesia, as a
matter of fact they’ll even dare mention it at my burial.
At the very worst, the idea of my name pops in. Mom
and Dad had myriad name options; they could have thumbed through a telephone
directory, or a magazine, or even scrolled down the cast at the end of a movie
to pick but one pronounceable name. As it turned out, this wasn’t the case;
they instead went straight ahead and called me Quiitmdvylorine.
Quiitmdvylorine! Give me a break! What’s the worst
that could happen? No one ever says it without nearly swallowing their tongue,
or even getting their jaws locked. It took me a practical year to learn to
spell it, and what’s more I’m restricted from traveling overseas, for in truth
I wouldn’t get by the security check before I’m mistaken for some illegal drug,
or worst still a terrorist. How about Oliver? Let’s face it; he’d spend our
entire date struggling to say it right; assuming he’d asked me out, which of
course was completely against the odds. I mean, of all debasing things why
would any guy with a functioning brain ask out a girl with a chemical name? To
mention but a few prudent people around me just called me Quiit to avoid
needless catastrophes.
I had friends however " one, if truth be known. Her
name was Lily. I’d strangely grown fond of her ever since the day she took her
courage in both hands and told me to my face that my dad was flirting with her
mother. From then on, I’d found somebody to trust. She had a good spirit, and
in the face of extreme despair she’d often say to me:
“Where there’s life "”
“There’s hope.” My languid lips would confirm in a
tired voice. Those words were of course mere aspirins for the tummy because we
both knew full well it would take a fairytale miracle for so much as Oliver’s
hypnotic glimpse to touch either of us. Moreover, Lily hardly stood any chance
with him, not that I was any better, on the contrary she was gifted " she could
milk a cow. Honestly, I just didn’t think he’d have much of an eye for a cleft
lip, a double chin and eyes the size of buttonholes.
Notwithstanding the aspersions cast, which truly
isn’t with the worst of intentions, Lily had strong willpower and she liked him
a lot and gravely wished he’d least of all think she existed. But as it nearly
was a matter of life and death, the situation called for a much greater emotion
and therefore ‘liked’ wasn’t just the
ticket. That’s where I come in. As opposed, I ‘loved’ Oliver for reasons I failed to fathom, either way, almost
with all my heart I did, and this fact, as it were, was all that counted in
this love triangle.
So, it boiled down to just Ella and me. I never
really understood what made her tick, and quite frankly I never wished to, but
the big irony of it all was that according to her I was poised to become a
threat. Apropos of that, every time we met she’d cast me a nauseated glance and
wrinkle her lips in readiness to crash my very last hope.
“Read my lips, squit,” she'd often declare, “your
nose is wet.”
“Just for the record, it’s Quiit. Anyway, may I borrow your hankie?” I’d retort, hoping it’d
detract from her impact. I always believed beauty is only skin-deep, but my
subconscious frequently argued that this was only a cliché we ugly people used
to alleviate the shame.
Late on the evening of the prom, something strange
happened. The elite couple had come, arm in arm, all dripping with elegance,
strolling past Lily and me. Now as they passed, Oliver darted me a charming
look, almost as if to say ‘from this
moment, thine heart hath become mine’. But inevitably, as soon as Queen Ella noticed, she attacked me with
her fiery eyes, shouting over her shoulder:
“Don’t get ahead of yourself granny, simply sit and
watch.”
I took her advice, and by some quirk of fate it paid
off pretty well. As I simply sat and watched students dance, a gentle hand
tapped on my shoulder. There wasn’t need to swivel around and see " my heart
believed it was him. Long before I could stumble over words, he’d already swept
me off my feet, weakened my knees with his electric gaze and in as many words
said,
“Dance with me.”
The end
© Chilistaleline© 2012 ChilisAuthor's Note
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Added on October 27, 2012 Last Updated on October 27, 2012 Tags: nonsense, nonsense... nonsense AuthorChilisLusaka, Lusaka, ZambiaAboutHi, my name is Chilis; I’m currently a student of Psychology at the University of Zambia. I run a blog called Chilistaleline (pronounced Chilis – Tale — Line) which features reviews .. more..Writing
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