The days by his side Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright ©2016 by Tinna — M.C.S

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the writer.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Social networks

  T here are more disadvantages than vantages to be the daughter of the English teacher of your class: one of the disadvantage is that she, being an executioner, half of the school will hate you. I live with this weight since I started elementary school. Besides, my bottle bottom glasses help me to get ninety percent school bullying.

  In my room, I have a small mirror that only allows me to look at my face, I never cared much about my appearance, I never knew which clothes were in fashion, so I never made a point of having a large mirror in my room. The little mirror fulfills its purpose; I tie my hair in an old, traditional ponytail, put on my glasses, and my black eyes stare at me in the mirror, some evident freckles frame my pale, thin face, like splattered ink on paper. Cannot my body gain at least a few extra pounds?

  “Good morning, mom!” I said, sitting at the table.

  It is not always that my mother replies to my good morning, it was as if she always had to keep her guard, even for her daughter. "Daddy" abandoned her when I was a newborn, so with a young daughter to look after, she had to do three shifts of teaching for years. I spent almost sixteen years with my grandmother; she passed away a month ago, and now I spend half of my day at school and the other half locked up in my room between books and some TV shows.

  My mother always drives me to school. It's torture when I get out of the car and half the school students look at me. Have not they got tired of it yet? Look at me. Giggles. Whispers. I slam the door hard as I get out of the car.

  “Hey young lady, is that what I taught you?” My mother shouted from the car, and some students laugh at my expense.

  “Sorry, mom,” I said, leaving as soon as possible.

  Head down, I enter the school. I press my books against my body and keep walking, always with my head down, when in fact, is the other students who should walk like this, head down, ashamed of their evil deeds.

  The first torture I had already faced, now I had to go through the second: the sea of people standing on the stairs. This is one of the worst, there is nowhere to run, no other way to get away from them. I look up and pause for some seconds at the bottom of the stairs, step with my All Star on the first step, and then they begin.

  Listening to people making fun of your appearance, laughing behind your back, let's say that this is not pleasant at all. I quicken my steps and soon I am away from them, enter my classroom and sit in my usual place: the first chair in the second row on the right side of the room. Teacher’s daughter = Intelligent student = Disciplined student. And because it was also the closest to the door.

  No one was in the room yet. For sure, they had a lot of catching up on to do, so why rush into the classroom? Unless you are one of the school freaks and you have to find somewhere to hide. This was mine. It was not the most perfect, but it was what I had.

  After a few minutes there, concentrated the reading on one of Agatha Christie’s book, Carla came in, my only salvation in this school. Carla is the only one I can call a friend, we have known each other forever, we are inseparable, except for the fact that we are not classmates this year. My mom could have gotten me or Carla to switch rooms, but she refused to do that, it was my mom being my mom.

  “Hey, creature that I love, hiding from the world again?” Carla said, taking off my glasses.

  “Give me back, you know I can't see without them,” I said, taking the glasses and putting them back, pushing them to the tip of the nose.

  “Let's go outside, Elle!” Carla looked down and then at me through her long dark lashes, thanks to the mascara she had put on, once she didn't like how bright they were.

  “I’m good here.”

  “You must be good. Here. Alone. In this stone prison!” said Carla, sitting on the table.

  “Better than being the school’s laughingstock.”

  Although Carla is my inseparable companion, she has never been bullied because of it. Apart from a few girls, what I can say with a lot of conviction is that they are jealous of her; Carla is what I call a fatal girl: she is beautiful, her wavy blond hair matches her angelic face, and she was born with beautiful green eyes that make a lot of boys drool over her. Carla did a few commercials when she was younger, until she finally stepped up and told her parents that acting career was not the way she wanted to go. After high school, Carla is determined to go to medical school and specialize in pediatrics. I am sure this profession suits her best. Carla’s great at dealing with kids, she can get a smile out of one in a matter of seconds.

  The bell for the first class echoed through the room. A lot of students were hurrying in. One passed by my desk, throwing one of my books on the floor. There is always one to do this, and several to laugh at. I lean down and pick up the book, set it on the table.

  I look at my schedule that is taped to the cover of my notebook. I always forget the classes of the day. The first lesson is geography. This lesson is that of teacher Bernadete. Damned! I had forgotten, today there is lesson with my mother. I put my elbows on the table and take a deep breath. I close my eyes, trying to calm down. I barely noticed the difficulty the school guard had in getting into the room, pushing a wheelchair with Ben sitting on it.

  Benjamin. It could be a mirage if everyone was not staring at that door. Staring at the same person. But what was Benjamin doing here anyway? School, Elle, I murmured internally. What do people do in a school? In my classroom? This discussion with the other Elle inside me might last for several minutes, but the frustration on Ben's face brought me back to reality.

  I know how he must be feeling now ... it is how I always feel when I am being watched by all the students at the same time ... a freak.

  Benjamin was the most popular student in the school and had a life envied by many, money for him was not a problem, he had the freedom to come and go, he had the most liberal parents any teenager would like to have.

  But by the end of last year, everything changed: on the last day of the year to be more precise, he was driving his father's car completely drunk...

  He was in the car with four other people. Ben broke into the opposite direction and crashed with another vehicle; without the seat belt, his body was thrown out of the car and he was a whole month in a coma, everyone said he was already dead, but a miracle made him recover, not fully for Ben became paraplegic. And since then he never showed up at school, until today…

  Mrs. Bernadette got up and was
kind enough to finish the guard's service. She kindly asked the student in the row next to mine to sit somewhere else, took the chair that the other student was sitting in, and placed it near the board.

  “I can handle this alone!” Ben said, without any kindness to the teacher; she ignored him, but a hard line formed on her lips and her forehead creased. She wanted to confront him for the aggressive tone he had used to talk to her, but at the same time she felt sorry for him, for Ben was so active and now the frustration is stamped on his face.

  Ben's wheelchair was motorized, so I think that was the reason he was denning everybody's help. It took a while for him to get the chair completely straight, I ran my hand through my hair several times, wanting to get up from my seat to help him, but my rational side reminded me not to. Benjamin, I can say, never been very nice to people like me.

  Beauty attracts beauty. That is what I thought when I saw him surrounded by so many beautiful girls. And just because he is in a wheelchair does not mean he got ugly. His face remains the same as before, he was not disfigured by the accident, even though his face did not have the same vigor as before. I remember a Ben with a face much more colorful than that; now, his skin is pale, his blue eyes contrast with the purple spots beneath them, those dark circles were not there before, and his dark hair, used to be much brighter. I am sure this is not the same Benjamin as before...

  Not that I have ever met the former Benjamin, but every girl in this school has had a platonic love for him. I saw him as a happy boy and now I see him as a bitter boy, something died with him in that accident.

  “Have you already stopped looking at me? What the fuck!” I bowed my head and pretended to be writing something in my notebook when Ben said it.

  “Manners, young boy” Mrs. Bernadette scolded him, but Ben did not seem to care.

  The break bell rang. That was a relief to the other students, but to me it was like being thrown into the lion's den. Usually, I am the first to leave because of the proximity to the door, but this time I decided to stay and wait and see which student would volunteer to help Ben, but no one did. If he was not paraplegic, I bet two or more students would slap each other to spend the break with him.

  I did not offer to help him either, let's say that I am not a very sociable person, sometimes shyness screams louder than me. I left him in the company of teacher Bernadete, but stood near the ramp, waiting for the teacher to come down with him. I waited in vain for Mrs. Bernadete went down the stairs by herself. I think for today Ben decided not to mix.

  “So, finally Ben's back to school?” Carla asked me as she drank her Coke Zero. I wondered how this news could have spread so fast.

  “He's so different.”

  “Of course, he is in a wheelchair!”

  “I didn't mean it, he is sad, Carla.”

  “I can't believe, friend, you are concerned about him.”

  “If you saw him, you’d also.”

  “Remember that he also made fool of you once!” Carla warned me.

  I did not wait for the break to ring to return to the room, I wanted to say something to Ben, wanted to ask him how he felt, but was afraid to stutter and embarrass myself.

  I entered the room and stood for a moment by the door. Ben had his head bowed and his snack untouched on the table. And as I predicted, I did not have the courage to approach him, and it seemed that he did not noticed my presence there.

  For my day to be more than imperfect, last lesson had begun. It was not that I disliked my mother. I did not like her being my teacher, I did not like her being my "classmates’" teacher. And there was one thing I liked even less about her, it was those schoolwork she gave us, like the one she just announced. A school assignment with a partner in which we would pick an English song, and nothing more and nothing less, we would have the glory of singing in the classroom, in front of EVERYONE. Have ever my mother wonder how many students did not have the gift of singing? I myself am one among these students.

  I blushed even before this disaster happened. And the worst was to come. My mother never let her students choose their partners, she did it. And we could not even question, she was the highest authority in the room. Then, she announced loud and clear:

  “Gabrielle Pádua and Benjamin Oliveira, you will work together!”

  “L

  et me guess what your reaction was,” said Carla while we waited at the school gate for my mother to take us home. “You dragged out the chair, completely disconcerted. Did you make that annoying noise when you were dragging a chair because you were shaking and sweating, and you didn’t even have the strength to lift the chair? And, I almost forgot, did you turn redder than pepper and drop all your stuff on the floor?”

  “Carla, please! You're making me look even more stupid than I'm feeling,” I frosted my eyes behind my black-rimmed glasses.

  “Sorry! I know you get out of control in some situations,” Carla adjusted the strap of her backpack. “How did he react?”

  “Ben ignored me. It was as if no one had sat beside him.”

  I relived the whole pathetic scene in my mind as we made our way home. The heavy traffic made the trip much longer.

  Benjamin was irreducible in the matter of not speaking to anyone. It was like his gaze of fury asked me not to insist, seemed more to beg.

  “Do you have any suggestions for songs?” I had asked for the third time. He remained silent. It was as if none of that mattered to him. It was as if he really was not listening to me, he was not interested. Simple as that, but too offensive to me. He had no right to treat me like that.

  I cannot say that singing an English song in front of the entire class would mean anything to me, but I needed that grade. And it is not just because I was the teacher's daughter that I was going to get some perks, that I did not have to accomplish my duty as a student.

  Some certainties I had already made up in my mind:

  First: Benjamin was relentless. He was only present in the room because he was forced by someone, and he seemed willing to make his return to school a very difficult situation. For him? To the person who obliged him? For everyone who tried to approach? I believe all these options are valid.

  Second: I would never sing alone in front of the class, I needed someone to support me, but fate, or rather my mother, wanted that support to be Ben.

  Third: I had to do something. I could not get a low grade by now just because of Benjamin's temper.

  We stayed in that awkward silence until the end of class. Ben had created an invisible barrier between us which I could not break easily. It was endless minutes for me. I wanted to confront him, but I was not a type to confront anyone, so, as soon as the bell rang, I grabbed my things and got out as fast as I could, running away from him like a frightened child.

  One of the advantages of mom not having lunch at home is that I can prepare whatever I want for lunch. Carla always accompanies me when I'm by myself having my meal. It is not just because of my loneliness, but it is a way out for her since at her home, meal is controlled by a nutritionist. So, no greasy food, chips, cheese, candy or any other fattening food. When she comes here, I make everything she likes but she cannot eat at home.

  “Isn’t there any way you can ask your mother to change your duo?” Carla asked as she dipped the chips into the sauce.

  “And who would want to trade the partner with me? Or with Ben? No one has spoken to the poor boy since he arrived.”

  “That's what happens to be snobbish,” She said with her mouth full.

  “Carla, don't say that.”

  “You know it's the truth! Benjamin and his gang thought they owned the school. They talked to many, but only those they handpicked.”

  “I pity him,” I sighed.

  “No! It's not called pity, it's that old platonic love for Ben growing back inside. Be careful!” Carla pointed the potato at me.

  That night I went to sleep with my friend's words in my mind. She was one of the unique persons that knew me completely. I was thinkin
g too much about Benjamin because of a few brief minutes I spent with him.

  Ben had been staring at me for a fraction of seconds while we were doing double, it was just this movement that I could see he had made, thought I had not realized, but just like him, I also knew how to look at a person without having to move my head. He was bored, and I was afraid to making him more bored. Although Ben was acting like an idiot, I tried to understand him, it was not an easy year for him.

  A light rain fell that night, the cold that came with it made me get up and close the window. I had the habit of sleeping with my bedroom window open, even though the house had only one floor and no bars. I spent a few minutes observing the night and wondering why something so tragic had happened in Ben's life.

  The day dawned with the sun shining. The sky was clear, and white clouds sprinkled the blue infinity. It was as if it had not rained the night before, the only thing that indicated that it had rained was the pools of water that had formed on the ground.

  I met Carla at the school entrance gate, she had managed to arrive before me today.

  “What happened? Did you fall out of bed?” I said and then took her for a hug.

  “I thought it would be raining in the morning, so I decided to advance my alarm in a few minutes. You know how it gets on rainy days. I just wanted the guarantee to take a busload off the road,” Carla was distracted as we walked. She waved to a boy I did not know.

  “Who is this?” I asked her.

  “Fernando. So hot!” Carla did not ask me a question but made a statement, leaving a smile on her face.

  “It may be, but since when are you getting involved with him and not telling me anything?”

  “I'm not getting involved with him, not yet. He is a new student. He is in the same class as mine. I'll give some more time to see what happens.”

  As soon as the bell rang, I ran into the classroom, which was slowly filling up. Twenty minutes had passed since the teacher began the class, and Benjamin had not arrived yet. Was the light rain that fell last night enough for him to make an excuse and not come to school?