Part Two

 "Señorita Kemp," snarled a heavy Spanish accented female voice. Emma, head buried on the nest of her arms against her desk rose up, alert and looking around from all her sides for the source. Her gaze fell upon a short framed woman - her supposed Spanish teacher who lived by the name of Señorita Anika Rodriguez - with her short curly tresses the shade of charcoal and expression set displeased with her arms crossed over her chest and shoes tapping rhythmically with impatience.

Emma raised a hand up instinctively, "here ma'am" she shot up, gaining the notoriety and snicker from her fellow classmates. She was weird that way, but everyone seemed to love her for who she was, her cluelessness and natural wit was easy to love, and Mrs. Rodriguez too, without a doubt was caught off guard with that one, a grin escaping her formerly parted lips, which would have had been instead casting a scolding remark.

Mrs. Rodriguez had her hands on both hips, her slit chocolate brown eyes, scrutinizing Emma from top down before turning to her heels. She casted a sidelong glance, "cuàl es la capital de españa?"

Emma rubbed her arm sheepishly stretching, her expression now blank and indifferent that Mrs. Rodriguez might as well not have spoken at all. "Madrid" she said, confidently.

Mrs. Rodriguez's quirked up grin as she spun around her heels to face her "lo que es la ùltima poblaci™n estimates a partir de Los ùltimos diez años?"

"About 40,525,000 as of 2009's census," snapped Emma coolly as she leaned back from her seat, arms propped as a support behind her head. Mrs. Rodriguez batted her eyelashes utterly shocked and quite taken aback, she hadn't expected her to be paying much of an attention and utterly caught off guard by the resounding "oh" from the students who had watched and surrounded her. She raised her hand gaining her original authoritative composure as she tossed her short curly hair over her shoulder, "Now, this is what you all should be like, always ready, and always prepared. If you're going to slack off in class, always be on guard with an open ear," Mrs. Rodriguez explained gazing around the room at each faces and directed her attention at Emma once more, "I'll let you slip this time Señorita Kemp," Mrs. Rodriguez warned, her gaze sharp as two knives and condescending, "But next time... There won't be a next time Lo ha entendido?" Emma nodded, saved by the dismissal bell. Mrs. Rodriguez caught short from her scolding directed her attention back from the class whole strolling by the makeshift of a podium up front, arms spread out in front of her, "Subir, See you all tomorrow."

Emma cradled her shoulder bag at her sides, wobbling sleepily with a yawn out of class. By the curb of the next building, she had bump into someone while she had rubbed the back of her hand over her teary eyes. She looked up from the tall frame who had worn a long dark grey sweater awkwardly in nearing of midst of summer, hair worn long and semi ruffled at his side - shoulder length and surprisingly looking so soft and silky. He still had that cheeky eyes she had remembered him by, the pallor of his skin as white as chalk, and frame built so petite his collarbone and entire chest sharply outlined.

"Sorry," he whispered his accent showed a lingering semi husky enunciation of old English and Asiatic - Filipino - squeak. His gaze as it locked with hers contained the dark shade of ashes, like staring at a pure black glassy marble, without a trace of white with his slit eyes set a little half closed, he held out an offered hand to help steady her, and she took it, oblivious as she was and speechless. For a moment she stood like that, a personal staring contrast building between them and would have likely not stop until they were both brought back to reality by someone, his friend, a contrast to him who was a lot shorter and tanned, spectacles dominating his built yet limp features.

"Hey Jiro," he interrupted, regarding Emma's presence with a wry smile of acknowledgement, "what's taking you so long?"

Jiro, supposedly that was his name dropped his gaze from her and tilted his head slightly at the boy who had stood by him, "huh?" He mused utterly dumbfounded, and met her gaze again. The boy she later found out his name as Alex from the quick intro, resigned, shook his head disapprovingly,

"Sorry about my friend," he apologized, wiping the look of disappointment from his expression with a grin, "he's kind of weird that way."

Emma nodded, still holding her gaze with his, "it’s okay, I'm weird myself."

Jiro and Alex, after the awkward silence that had followed scrutinized each other for the last time before leaving, or at least Alex and Jiro did at the lone girl Emma. Emma had excused herself with a shy smile that shun part of her pearly white teeth between her small curved lips, and scuttled off, meeting up with her friends who as usual stood by the large oak tree.

Emma as usual, took the rightful spot in the center of her group circle, nearly tripping from her bubbly thoughts of the earlier incident. She had right herself, dismissing her flaw with an immediate joke directed at Edward and Lucas who had quite seen right through her.

"We all know it’s impossible to determine which came first with the chicken and the egg Emma," chuckled Lucas ruffling her hair, and his twin brother Edward took the opposing post behind her, arms crossed over his chest, "yeah, we know something's up, with you being in cloud nine in all."

Emma shrugged crossing her arms over her chest too, she casted a glimpse over Lucas's tall frame, lurking behind him coincidentally was Nate, most of his hair pulled back with the power of gel, yet the lawn of spiky tresses still rebelled. Fear once again welled up inside her, as Lucas too turn back to see what she had been looking at. A grin crept on his features and so did their friends who had flocked behind, teasing grins set on all their features. Edward jerked an elbow at her, eyebrows raised mockingly like two worms set with a mind of their own, "So he's the reason for our little sis's cloud nine." He muttered, his grin now was a little devious, "Yo Nate when are you going to ask Emma out?" she snickered, tongue clicking between his teeth, and expression cheeky.

Nate shrugged brushing his hair back, his dark irises glinting dark brown under the sunlight. "When she's ready," He said and passed her a rueful smirk she couldn't help but shiver all over. They all laughed at her, the girls a distinguishable giggle of "awww" and the boys, a teasing chuckle as they shoved her forward, Emma double taking, landed safely in his arms, palms flat on his chest. If she hadn't known his true nature, she would have felt her heart skip a beat and cheeks flush with such charisma. His usually tidy get up later tousled by afternoon and after all charms can be deceiving, that's what many say, and surprisingly enough this ebony spiky haired-fair skin, cute and smart boy was an epitome of that. You wouldn't have realized that this pointy nosed, almond fingers, pimped framed person could do such a thing to her, steal a candy from a child, or possibly smuggle something as illegal as drugs from a herd of hooligans.

A smirk rode his impeccable heart shaped lips as he drew her close, leaning forward to whisper something in audible for anyone but her to hear. Her cheeks flushed as he toyed with the lower hem of her blouse from behind, "tonight. I'll pick you up, same old." He whispered, his breath brushing a sickening ticklish sensation on her skin, stirring the hair on her neck. She flinched, for some reason unable to move, for moments she had stood like that staring out into empty space. Her friends once again, meet her sides shifting their gaze from the disappearing figure of Nate to Emma who seemed to have gone cold and stiff as a statue.

"Hey, Em's what did he say!" squealed Anna, desperation for an answer pleaded her no mercy and practically dragging her attention as well as her lapsing mind back with them, she batted her eyelashes still speechless.

"You two were practically smothering each other," Agatha cut in fanning herself, "seriously it’s annoying. It’s either you're together or not, so which is it?"

"We're not!" Writhed Emma, she had begun to get flustered from all their teasing, "He’s just asking me to accompany him with homework for Economics." She lied, which was partly true, they were classmates in that class and there was no denying the idea of his true intentions with the white lie that was actually a black one as a most likely excuse.

"But you like him right?" Insisted Madilda, her eyebrows too were raised, but this was either displeased or condescending. Emma pouted, wondering when they would stop. Maybe if she told them straight they would stop, but then again, they would insist a most likely conclusion of their so-called relationship. Emma sighed, "I like someone else." She mused her tone flat, and as she predicted, she had received raised eyebrows from all of them, ones that meant a resounding shocked "what?" of her revelation.

"Y'all heard me," she scoffed, thankful they had taken the bait, "I like someone else."

"And who might he be?" it was Lucas who had placed question everyone at hand,

"I'm not telling any of you." She chuckled mostly to herself, but in fact, she didn't really know who this person was, it was just another white lie.

"Come on you can trust us." Cooed Vincent, he had been quiet for quite some time, he seems to be the only one who already had a clue with that smirk of "I have a feeling exactly who it is" written all over his annoying face. Pressured for an answer she had skimmed around the various faces, and randomly stopped at the same large oak tree opposite of them, her gaze landing exactly at if she could remember his name clearly, Jiro, who seemed to always be meeting her gaze at the exact time.

"You'll just laugh at me," she mused, and like any school girl, she flushed, it was not that kind of flush she had with Nate the first time she had met him, but the real heated kind. This was like freshmen year all over again, except this time, it was somewhat more intense that she couldn't quite understand herself. Butterflies seemed to be fluttering wildly in her stomach, palms sweaty, and her heart throbbing uncontrollably in her chest, and it came to the conclusion of asking herself the question: was this called the "mating call" her absurd classmates had warned her class about during one of their language arts power point presentations?

"We won’t, promise!" They all pleaded in unison, but the hint of their suppressed snickers had tipped her off,

"I don't really know his name, but he hangs out over there," she shrugged, mystery was quite her charming points and they all craned their heads to the direction she had pointed behind them, showing much of the obvious.

A frown crept on all their features, "You gotta be more specific Em's," Madilda wailed tiptoeing from their herded friends to get a better view at who amongst the herd of boys she was referencing, "unless you are lying to us, because those guys, no offense have no looks suiting your taste."

"Fine," Emma growled casting a glimpse at Jiro's direction who had begun to chuckle amongst his friends over something that appeared to be funny, eyes slit and kinky. She turned away from them, arms crossed over her chest and legs crossed like a knot under her, "he's wearing a sweater."

"No way, you mean him?" It was Edward, eyeing Jiro displeasingly,

"I said it didn't I, The guy in a sweater " grey... in a dark grey sweater" Emma corrected herself, casting a glance at Jiro to make sure she hadn't reference someone else, and her description was correct, no one else would have worn a sweater in the midst of the upcoming summer like him.

"You like Jared Tate?" Inclined Edward, expression grim with disgust,”

Emma looked confused, "Who? I thought his name is Jiro."

"Ha, caught you red handed," it was Vincent, "so you do know his name, Jiro is his nickname, especially in online game tournaments."

"He's a gamer?" Mused Emma utterly shocked he hadn't even looked like that sort of guy. Well he did sort of, but she was expecting him to be someone in the lines of the musical arts an instrumentalist or something... a skater at least with his slender frame, but a gamer? There was nothing wrong about that, and honestly she liked video games herself, but maybe people these days didn't live up everyone's expectations, maybe she had begun to judge without fully assessing her surroundings, which made her most likely a prey to any predator of deceit. “I mean, I see him around, and sort of… bumped into him… and he’s a cool guy. Why, what’s so wrong about him?”

“Nate was alright, he’s your size and far better looking and more flesh.” Lucas explained tossing a sidelong glance at Jared, “and he’s too skinny!” Shrieked Edward and his twin brother nodded in support of him.

It was like hearing her mother all over again, saying which clothes to wear, what not to do and dictate every decision in her life, it started to become annoying in Emma’s part. She balled her hands into fists, shoulders tensed, but expression timid and well composed. “Why,” she countered glancing from time to time queasily at Jared, “it’s not like I’m going to eat him.” She was being sarcastic or at least that was what she thought they meant and tried to prove them wrong when they fussed all over their physical differences. They laughed of course, but was much more serious then,

“Well when you two decide to make little Emma’s and Jiro’s you can’t expect him to bridal carry you from upstairs,” Vincent joked, and Emma shot him a glare, “I mean seriously, he looks as fragile as a twig, and no offense, he doesn’t look like he could carry one pound.” That was not entirely true, that sharp collarbones of his, fine shoulder blades that told her he was a natural born swimmer and firmly built frame told her otherwise.

For the first time ever she had set her foot down, literally, and began to protest, “We aren’t even getting there.” She hissed, utterly flustered, “it’s the matter of what your heart desires.”

“And you like a twig? How can you kiss him without him pulling you up to level his face?” Emma had begun to think every one of them were against her decisions, or at least the men were, the girls just watched amused, their eyeballs shifting from side to side as each retorted a comment, the only thing missing was them to bring out a large popcorn as they watch the scene unfold.

“Speak for yourself, Eddie,” Emma directed her comment at Edward, “weren’t you the one complaining the other day for being underweight?” it was harsh bad it had to be done, if she didn’t they would have never stop. Thankfully, this hardly offended Edward it was true after all, “besides you guys just asked who I liked, I didn’t say I wanted to marry the guy right?”

 

“True,” it was mature Agatha who had stepped into the light of the argument, “it’s just a friend’s honest opinion, but I guess it depends on a person’s taste, maybe there’s something only you can see that we don’t.”