This part is dedicated to our one and only, Baba Meh 😆. Why you ask? Because, she made me this beautiful cover for this story and it is perf in all ways! I ain't kidding guys, go check out the first page *nudge nudge* *wink wink* 😆
And also, since K was busy, Meh is my new proofreader. Yes, I made her work for free again 😆. Not important though, she was officially the first one to read this part and its only right that I dedicate this to her after all the hard work I made her do.
So Meh, this is for you.
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Part 4
This part is in Kunj's POV
Twinkle Taneja had the most delicate, elegant hands I'd ever seen. Just like a girl, she prodded the clay like she thought it would bite. Me, I was enjoying the texture of the clay and grateful for the opportunity to pound my fists into something, to squeeze and tear apart a blob. That gray goo represented my life. My life had no shape, no texture, no color.
I didn't usually have such a dreary outlook. As a matter of fact, until six weeks ago, when my parents announced that they'd enrolled me in the Year Abroad program, I'd say for the most part, I was a pretty happy guy. I'd dated a little, had good grades, and had plans for college that included a career path that would lead me straight into animated movies, working for Pixar.
Then my parents had dropped the bomb. They were getting a divorce and thought it would go easier on me if I wasn't at home while they went through it. As if my being miles and miles away would spare me the pain of our family falling apart.
I slammed my fist into the clay, and table wobbled. Twinkle screeched and jerked back in her chair, her eyes wide.
"Gently, Monsieur Sarna," the teacher scolded. I felt my entire face burn with embarrassment.
"What's wrong?" Twinkle whispered.
"What's wrong is that this is a stupid class and a total waste of time." I grabbed my backpack and stormed into the hallway. I turned the corner and pressed my back against the brick wall. I plowed my fingers through my hair. That was real smart, Kunj. I think your grades here transfer back home. You gotta make the best of this, no matter how much you dislike being here.
And making the best of it, in my opinion, means getting heavily involved with a French girl. Physical only, no emotion. No bonding. No declarations of love.
I stood in the hallway for a long time, trying to gain control over my anger and frustration. This year had barely begun, and already I hated it to the max.
The bell finally rang, and I began wandering the halls, heading for my next class. Oils. Nothing to punch, plenty to smear. For some reason, I thought of the finger painting I did as a kid. A mess of colors that made no sense, that represented nothing. Just like my life.
I shook my head to clear it as I walked into the class and took my place behind an easel. I didn't want to think about my life, or my parents' life, or their divorce. But my parents couldn't wait until I started college for that. Oh no. Let's send Kunj off to Paris so we can go ahead and get a divorce. So what if this decision ruins his last two years of high school?
While I'd been brooding, the class had filled up quickly. And who should stroll in just as the bell rang?
Twinkle, I couldn't believe it. Of all the schools in Paris, how in the world did she end up enrolled in mine? And worse than that, how had she managed to get herself into two of my classes?
Her presence here was a nightmare. I did not need-nor did I want-someone from my high school back home dodging my steps. And as fate would have it, she was late again and the only easel left was the one beside me. I'd hoped it would go to one of the French girls, but my thunderous scowl had probably chased them all away. I was going to have to watch that expression.
"Can't you get anywhere on time?" I chided as she came to sit on the stool next to mine.
"I'm having a hard time figuring out the French." She admitted, setting her backpack on the floor.
"Well, duh! This is France. What did you expect?" I retorted.
"Give me a break, will you? I don't want to sit beside you any more than you want to sit beside me," she snapped.
Ouch! That hurt. Normally it wouldn't have. Normally it would have washed right over me like the proverbial water off a duck's back. But nothing in my life had been normal since my parents' earth shattering announcement.
I knew Twinkle didn't mean to reject my presence, to reject me.I didn't even know why I cared. Yes, I did. I just didn't want to think about it.
No matter how many times my parents told me that their divorce wasn't my fault, I couldn't help but think that it was. I needed a major distraction. I needed to get involved with a French babe, someone I couldn't understand, someone I wouldn't grow to love. A flash of passion, hot kisses, that's all I wanted. Nothing permanent. Just someone I could lose myself with so I could forget my parents' divorce. A French girl would be perfect for that ploy.
Sure, she'd be temporary, just for the year, but that was fine with me because the one thing I'd learned lately was that love didn't last.
The teacher, Mademoiselle Etienne, was sweeping her paintbrush across the canvas, demonstrating the mastery of stroke. Her back was to the class, which I found incredibly convenient.
I allowed my gaze to wander around the room, weighing the merits of the female students. Eventually my gaze completed its circle and fell on Twinkle.
Shafts of sunlight streaked through the windows to highlight her hair. Her hair was a shade that I couldn't describe, had never before envisioned. Did I even have that color available in my palette?
And her chocolate eyes-like melting in the hot sun. She was so absorbed in what the teacher was saying, so totally captivated. And captivating.
She shifted her gaze to me. I jerked my attention to the teacher. The last thing I was interested in was having a relationship with someone from back home.
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I headed for a nearby cafe as soon as I gathered my books from my locker after the four-thirty bell rang-signalling the end of the day. Apparently everyone else had the same plan. The line waiting to be served was half a block long. People were crammed inside the shop, and all of the outside tables-with their bright umbrellas open to shield the customers from the sun-were full.
My stomach growled, and I patted it. "Sorry, old buddy," I mumbled. I was famished and figured I'd faint from hunger before I ever got a table. I'd have to seek out other means to tame this rabid starving beast.
Just as I turned to leave, I saw a familiar face. Twinkle! Sitting alone at a table beneath an umbrella. Relief swept through me. My stomach was going to be saved from a fate worse than death after all.
I wended my way through the crowd and wove among the tables until I reached Twinkle. I dropped into the empty chair across from her.
"You finally got someplace early," I said as I snatched a menu from her fingers.
"You can't sit there!" She shrieked.
"Why not? I'm starving, and it's empty." I pointed out, my mouth already watering as I considered the options on the menu.
"I'm saving it for someone," she responded.
I scoffed. "Yeah, right." After only one day in school, who could she possibly know?
Leaning forward, she grabbed the menu from my fingers. "I'm meeting Renee." She insisted.
Renee? In France, Renee was a guy's name, wasn't it? So what if it was? What did I care if she was already dating? But oddly, it bugged me.
"Is this guy in one of your classes?" I asked, trying to sound uninterested, wondering why I had to try when I WAS totally uninterested.
Something that reminded me of the cunning look of a fox filled her eyes.
She tossed her head, the kind of move that a girl with long hair would make. I wondered briefly if she'd forgotten her hair wasn't that long.
"No, I met Renee shortly after my flight touched down. We had an instant rapport. As a matter of fact, we were together last night until after midnight."
I really didn't want to hear about her date with some Frenchie. I figured I should probably move to a table with a Parisian girl, where I wouldn't have to worry about a conversation. I glanced around. The place was packed. It was either this table or the line.
I leaned forward and held out a hand imploringly. "Look, Twinkle, I'm starving. I missed lunch."
She quirked a delicate brow.
I grimaced. "All right. I'm having a hard time with the French too. I couldn't find the cafeteria."
A bubble of laughter erupted from her throat. For some reason, it made me want to laugh, and I hadn't felt like laughing in over six weeks.
"Come on"just let me place an order," I pleaded, clasping my hands and shaking them in front of her. "I'll wolf it down and be out of here before this Rene guy ever shows up. Have pity. I'm a stranger in a strange land."
She laughed harder. She had a really pretty laugh. Light and airy. It kept washing over me in waves.
"Please," I begged. "Please." I began to gasp and rasp like a man crawling across the desert. "I'm starving. Food. I need food. Le menu, s'il te plait." [Please show me the menu]
She thrust the menu at me. "You're pathetic. People are staring."
"Merci, mademoiselle, [Thank you miss]" Triumphant, I leaned back and studied the menu. When the waitress came over, I ordered a couple of sandwiches. I wasn't sure what was in them and didn't want to drag out my English-French dictionary in front of Twinkle. I knew the bread was a croissant. I just hoped whatever came inside wasn't going to make me regret trying to act like I wasn't an ignorant tourist.
I watched Twinkle sip something that looked like lemonade but probably wasn't. I didn't remember her being so cute back in Amritsar. I cleared my throat. "So how does Yuvraj feel about you being all the way over here?"
Her eyes popped open wide. "What would I care?"
I felt the heat rush to my face. "I thought the two of you were an item."
"A discarded item," she responded.
"Hey, I'm sorry."
She held up a hand. "Don't be. When you start at the bottom of the food chain, the only place to go is up."
I fought back a smile. I never had been able to figure out what she saw in the guy anyway. I mean, he wasn't an absolute loser, but the guy seemed more obsessed with cars than dating. He was severely bowlegged.
"I didn't know you had an interest in art," I remarked.
She'd been in my sketching class as well this afternoon. That gave us three classes together. Fortunately in the sketching class though, someone had taken the chair beside me before Twinkle had arrived, so I was spared her nearness as Madame Trudi explained the process of sketching and gave us our first assignment.
"I always took art as my option back home" She furrowed her brow. "I don't remember having you in any of my classes."
"Are you kidding?" I inquired. "And have the guys think I was a pansy?" I leaned forward conspiratorially. "So let's just keep my little foray into the art world between us when we get back okay?"
"No one would think you were a pansy." She insisted.
"Yeah, right. Most of the guys at our school thing a smiley face is a work of art."
She giggled and man, I liked that sound.
"That is so true," She responded.
"I mean, the guys are either into football, or racing cars, and the really macho guys do both," I explained.
"I don't see you racing cars." She commented. "But I could see you playing football."
I sighed heavily. "My mom had a friend who played college football. He got tackled, snapped his neck, and was paralyzed. My mom forbid me to play football."
Twinkle frowned. "Her friend's accident must have been hard on your mom. I can certainly understand where she's coming from. Still, there's basketball, cricket, and track. Oh and don't forget badminton."
I shook my head. "No time for school sports."
"You make time for what's important." She pointed out.
"Exactly," I leaned back as the waitress set my sandwiches in front of me. "And school sports are not important to me."
Gingerly I lifted the top of one sandwich and peered inside.
"Don't know what you ordered, do you?" she teased.
"Yeah, I know what I ordered. Croissant sandwiches. I just don't know what's between the layers of bread." I confessed.
She laughed again, that remarkable laugh.
I bit into the sandwich, grateful to discover it was cheese.
"Uh, listen," she began hesitantly.
I finished chewing and swallowed. She looked really uncomfortable, and for one horrifying moment I was afraid that she know about my parents' divorce. I'd been too ashamed to tell anyone, but you never know.
With the tip of her elegant finger, she wiped the dew off her glass. "We had to put our clay projects on a table at the back of the room. I put yours away. It'll be easy for you to find tomorrow. It's the one that's not even beginning to look like anything yet."
Guilt pricked me. "Ah, thanks. I really appreciate you doing that for me. I'm sorry I went postal""
She held up a hand. "I understand completely."
Huh? How could she? Unless she knows about the divorce.
"I didn't expect it to be so hard to adjust to a new school, new city, and a new family either." She added.
"Yeah." A new family. Once I adjusted here, I'd have to adjust back home. "I think all the classes are pretty good." I added, wanting to shift the attention away from the adjustments. I didn't know if I would ever adjust to my life A.D., after divorce.
"I was surprised that we already have an assignment in sketching class," she admitted. "What are you going to sketch?"
"The Eiffel tower," I replied without hesitation.
She rolled her eyes. "That is so expected. So boring."
Before I had the chance to tell her my complete plans for the sketch, a girl with long black hair and blue eyes dragged over a chair from another table and joined us.
"Hi Renee." Twinkle said. "Meet Kunj Sarna from Amritsar."
Renee was a girl? I'd been deceived. Twinkle had knowlingly let me believe Renee was a guy.
Twinkle looked incredibly cute with her smug expression. I had a feeling she was paying me back for my nude-model prank in our first class. She'd been cute then too and so obviously horrified at the thought of looking at a nude model.
I'd felt almost guilty about teasing her.
I could tell now that she had enjoyed my initially baffled expression, enjoyed more the fact that I realized I'd been had.
She'd titled up her nose, and her eyes were challenging me to admit I'd fallen for her ploy, hook, line, and sinker.
I hadn't known Twinkle well back home and now I was wondering why I'd paid so little attention her there. She was intriguing.
Whoa! I didn't want to travel that route. My goal this year was a French babe. Not some girl from back home.
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Whew! That was super duper long. I just wanted to end with the joke being revealed, hope it was okay? Lemme know! 😃
Edited by MaliciousAngel - 8 years ago
DO NOT COPY THIS POST AS THIS IS EXCLUSIVE TO INDIA FORUMS
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