All the Wrong Steps.

I walked to school alone the next day as Zafa had a basketball tournament whereas Swafa was homesick with a fever (correction to that she just told mom she had a fever as she didn’t want to attend Geography class today).

It was 10 minutes until the bell rang but I couldn’t care less for some reason today. I took my time, enjoying the sing-song tweeting of the neighbourhood birds and autumn wind. I smiled to myself as the wind flips my black hair off my forehead. I felt like a movie-star, heh.

Everything was perfect, my mind was in peace; all until I saw her.

Erna had her long brunette her down, the curls showing. She was walking on the opposite sidewalk, her eyes yet again, downcast.

My heart ached as I asked myself whether I should go and talk to her. Don’t let the moment go to waste, I told myself. With that, I walked over to her, crossing the road.

I wasn’t halfway across the street when she turned, as if she’d always known I was there. Her hazel eyes enlarged and she begin to walk hastily. I groan. “Erna, wait!”

She stopped abruptly and turned back to me. That was when she finally spoke to me. “How do you know my name?”

I plastered my most charming smirk on my face and scamper over to her, expecting her to run off but she didn’t. I glanced up at her for a second to see her face still horrified, as if I was Shrek. I laugh at my nonsense thoughts.

“You’re Swafa’s older brother, aren’t you?” She said, surprising me and killing my happy-go-lucky morning vibe. In an instant I stopped laughing and stared at her. She rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering, “I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have befriended Swafa.”

“Hey,” I said, catching up with her. “How do you know I’m Swafa’s older brother?”

Erna stopped walking and twirled back, her hair flying but landing back on her shoulders gracefully. “Your laugh. It’s just as peculiar as hers.” And with that, she started walking off again, this time faster.

“Peculiar how?” I asked, catching up. I heard her groan to herself and I just grin. Her eyes were downcast once more.

“Are your eyes always downcast?” I find myself asking. She craned her neck to look up at me, her hazel eyes a piercing shade hazel now. “Are they downcast now?” She asked, almost in a whisper. I felt my heart skip a beat. As if she knew, she looked away and started running off now.

“Hey!” I hollered after her. But it was too late, of course.

She was gone with the wind.

…

“So you chased the girl?” Zafa asked me at lunch. I groan and slam my forehead on the table, wincing, instantly regretting my action. Zafa laughed and I wished his laugh would just drown in together with the sea of noisy high-school students.

“It was an idiotic thing to do, I know.” I said to the table. It came out muffled but Zafa understood anyways.

“Swafa’s going to kill you. The girl’s first and last chance to make a friend is now ruined thanks to her obsessed brother.”

“I’m not obsessed!” I said, lifting my head and widening my eyes.

“Call it what you want Muhzim but it’s called obsession,” Zafa told me as he took a bite into his burrito.

“How was the basketball tournament by the way?” I asked, trying to get my mind off Erna and change the subject. My move as obvious but Zafa deliberately ignored the fact, I could see.

“We lost, as usual,” he said, shaking his burrito. “Stupid Tom West shot a goal for the other team.” Zafa muttered, pointing his chin to the well-known Tom West. He was handsome with wavy blonde hair; problem is he was incredibly stupid.

“Anyway,” Zafa said, putting his burrito down and lifting an eyebrow, looking at me. “About Erna-”

“No, no, no,” I said, holding my hands up. “We shan’t talk about her.”

“Why are you running away from the subject?” Zafa laughed at his own stupid pun. I got up and walked away, disgusted with him.

“Hey where are you running off to?” He hollered after me with a laugh.

…

“PLEASE SWAFA GIVE ME THE GIRL’S DAMN NUMBER,” I screeched, Swafa covering her ears from my madness.

“No, Muhzim. YOU’RE OBSESSED AND I WILL NOT FEED YOUR OBSESSION,” She screeched back, pointing a finger at me dramatically. I fall onto the couch as if I’ve been shot and Swafa groans.

“Muhzim you don’t even know who this girl is! What is up with you? I remember you said you were going to take your time with Qizy so that you wouldn’t mess it up a long time ago but look where you are now!” Swafa gave me an earful, reminding me of mom.

“What’s all the ruckus about?” Said a voice. It was dad. He came down the stairs with a coffee mug and in his hands, wearing only shorts and a blue t-shirt.

“Muhzim is obsessed with my best friend Erna,” Swafa deadpanned, her finger once again pointing at me. I sit up on the couch and say, “I am not!”

“You’re asking me for her number, Muhzim. What could that be called then?” Swafa retaliated, raising a sassy eyebrow at me. At that very second I felt like shaving off her eyebrows.

“Obsession isn’t the right word Swafa; love is,” Dad tells her, literally making the situation worst. I plaster my most deadpan look and say in my most deadpan way, “Wow thanks for backing me up, dad.” He lifts his coffee mug and heads for the kitchen.

…

Swafa was busy watching the Simpsons when I got hold of her phone. Stupid kid, she knew I was going to get Erna’s number anyway. Ah, bonus; her phone didn’t have a passcode to unlock.

I scroll through her contacts and find Erna’s name, typing it in my own phone. I put Swafa’s phone back on the coffee table and head up stairs to my room, texting Erna as I went.

Hey, it’s Muhzim. And without thinking twice, I hit send. Erna reads it instantly, giving me the blueticks.

And the next thing I know, she blocked me.

My texts didn’t go through nor could I see whether she was online on whatsapp or not. I groan. ‘Well, better start hacking.’ I tell myself. It was 5 after 10 at night when I got her location and apparently she only lived a few blocks down from my house.

I wrote her a letter that simply said, ‘hi’ and folded it into a square. I get on my pale blue bike and cycle to her house. It’s dark now but I don’t mind.

Her house is literally a graveyard. It’s gloomy and painted with dark colours. Erna was at her doorstep when I arrived and my heart skipped a beat. Her hazel eyes shot me a look when my bike came to a stop and I was afraid now. Afraid that she had a baseball bat with her or a stick to hurt me with.

“What’re you doing here?” She said it ever so softly that I thought I’d imagined it. Her brunette hair was down in curls now and she was in a black nightdress. I hold out a shaky hand with the paper in my grasp. “H-Here you go.” I felt like a coward.

She got up after a while and took the piece of paper out of my hand aggressively. She unfolded it, read it and tore it up right in front of me. I felt my heart shatter to bits.

“Don’t come here. Ever.” And with that she walked back into her house and slammed the door behind her.

I felt dead.

To be continued in: Martha’s Party.