Sentiments of Cherry Colas

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1) - Chapter 2

Submitted: November 08, 2019

Reads: 11

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Submitted: November 08, 2019



When I finally made my way to Room 408, I was greeted by the sign that directed me to the cafeteria instead. Guess two hundred kids just don't fit into a single classroom.

It was annoying to not be warned ahead of time, since the cafeteria and Room 408 was on opposite sides of the building. Plus, the cafeteria was way closer to my locker and as of right now, my backpack probably weighed heavier than a hippopotamus.

"Brielle!" I heard the dreaded voice call out to me from behind. Crap.

I turned around to face the blond-haired, freckled boy who towered over me. Why Harry?!

"Harry, uh, hi! Also, it's Gabrielle," I put a smile on my face, not wishing to irritate or anger anyone today.

"Well, I heard that the club is splitting into two groups. I'd kill to be in the group with the prettiest lady," Harry said, ruffling his hair. Ew. Since when is he in community service?

"You're in Community Service Club?" I asked, trying to divert the topic away from hs flirting.

"Why do you ask, Gabrielle?" Harry asked as we started heading towards the cafeteria.

"Well, I uh, think you'd have football practice or something like that, I said, speed walking so I would lose him.

Harry kept up with the new pace. Sure, I was flattered that he was chasing after me, but doesn't he realize that I took no interest?

"I do, indeed, but coach said I should do some community service. I requested to be on your team," Harry said, taking my backpack, "I'll take this brick of a backpack for you."

"No need, Harry," I grabbed my backpack back and swung it over my shoulder, ignoring the weight, "I have to get going. Mrs. O'Connor wants to see me."

"Aright, I'll just go to my locker to get my backpack," Harry said, running away.

"God, just take a sign," I muttered under my breath as I speed-walked towards the cafeteria, not wanting to break the "no running in the hallways" rule.

At last, I arrived at the cafeteria. It was already filled with students, freshmen and seniors alike. Seeing all of those people were going to make nauseous.

I looked up at the clock, craning my neck. It was 3:01 already. I got here a minute late. Damn it, Brielle. You broke your "never being late" streak.

When I came in, the chatter lightened a bit, and eyes were diverted in my direction.

"Just talk amongst yourselves for now until Ms. O'Conner gets here," I yelled, but my voice did not travel far, yet my throat was throbbing.

"Just another reason for me to quit. I couldn't even yell over this many kids that were looking at me.

Delilah walked up towards me, "Brie, louder. Like this," she paused, "Everyone, talk amongst yourselves until Mrs. O'Connor comes!"

I rubbed my ear, sure that Delilah's screams were enough to do permanent damage to my hearing. My ear was still a little fuzzy, I thanked her. She's a way better leader than I am.

Soon enough, Mrs. O'Connor entered the room, her hands full because of her laptop and files. She looked at me and smiled, mouthing the words, you're going to love this.

Though I was on the fence about whether to be elated or to dread the surprise. Still, I flashed Mrs. O'Connor an optimistic smile, keeping up with my acts.

"Alright, everyone!" Mrs. O'Connor yelled, clapping.

Many of the heads turned towards her, although the room was still filled with chatter. After getting stares from Mrs. O'Connor, the roomed quieted down, probably afraid of her status in the school.

"I have split you guys up into two groups. One will be led by Brielle and the other would be led by the second most popular from the election last year and that is..." She trailed off, putting her glasses on to read her notes.

A hopeful look broke through Delilah's face, she probably thought it was going to be her that would be the president. I'd be happy for her, even if we were on different teams.

Anticipation passed around the room, there were optimistic encouragements and sighs because of the possibility of being separated from their friends.

"Christopher Sanders, a senior," Mrs. O'Connor announced, looking back at us.

Cheers and chanting broke out amongst the people, mostly seniors. Crazy. They should be called senior crackheads instead. But that doesn't make sense, senior people don't have enough energy to be crackheads.

Distracting myself from my strange thoughts, I turned to my side to glimpse at Delilah's reactions. Her disappointment was obvious because of her frown. I wanted to tell her that she should never expect too much, but that wouldn't be helpful.

"Seniors," sound came from Delilah's gritted teeth, "Can't wait until we become seniors next year. So many privileges."

It was typical of Delilah to have a salty reaction. However, it wasn't to say that I approved of it. Anyways, it wasn't my place to correct her.

"So I tried to put you guys together with your buddies and have a variety of freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors and a variety of ladies and gents. So, Brielle and Christopher, stand on either side of the rooms," Mrs. O'Connor said.

The crowd parted their ways for us to get to our destinations. Whispers and conversations began again, only to be diminished again as Mrs. O'Connor started yelling out names and the teams they belonged to.

I looked up at the ticking clock on the cafeteria wall, 3:20. To me, this was a waste of time. How I could've used this time to do something productive. Physics quiz next Monday, math test tomorrow, enEnglish essay due in two days, homework from tutor...

My thoughts created a never-ending spiral of questions and answers, solutions to math problems, topic sentences for the essay. It was only to be broken by another punch from Delilah.

"What the hell?" I angry-whispered to her.

"Listen up, Brie," Delilah said, looking towards the direction Mrs. O'Connor was.

"Alright! I see you have all been divided into teams. Now, I would first like to thank Brielle for the idea of a competition!" Mrs. O'Connor smiled at the divided sides of the cafeteria.

Wait. Hold on. Competition? I gave her the inspiration? Suddenly, I remembered my words about how the competitive spirits would help us. Instant terror filled me, and I was pretty sure my pupils dilated. Crap, what did I get myself into.

As Mrs. O'Connor paused to look at the notes on her phone, Delilah leaned in and said, "You wanted a competition? Look at little Brielle growing up."

It only took a second for Delilah to realize that I didn't want a competition, so she gave me an empathetic smile.

"So both teams will have until December to raise as much money as they can. The team that ends up with the most money wins," Mrs. O'Connor said.

"What does the winner get?!" a deep, boyish voice yelled out among the crowd, surrounded by many other questions regarding that matter.

"The prize would b ea doughnut party!" Mrs. O'Connor said as if that would be good enough for a bunch of high school students.

Doughnut parties are for elementary kids, I thought while letting in the glee sink in. At least it won't be that much pressure. However, my few seconds of victor was soon destroyed by the boos and Mrs. O'Connor's next announcement.

"I see that you guys have so many complaints about the prize, let me tell you, there will be a great surprise for the winners. Well, it's a good one for those with bad grades and those who care about it."

Mrs. O'Connor's announcement was greeted by yells demanding to know the surprise. Her frown was obvious to me, and I was standing near the back of the ginormous cafeteria. She rubbed her ears a little. Poor her, high schoolers are just a bunch of crackhead teenagers.

"I'll tell you what it is once a team is very ahead. For now, all you'll know is the doughnut party and a lot of points added to your community service records," she said, letting the cheers sink in, "With that, meeting's over!"

People were patting my back and thanking me for this competition. Some friends were already getting competitive with one another. It just took a few more seconds to realize that I would be dependent, or blamed for the wins or the loses.

I was a horrible participant when it comes to competitive events, especially when my role of participation was to lead a team. The losses would all be your fault. Although you would be heavily praised for the wins, it felt safer to not take the risks. Also, the chances of me winning was slimmer than the chances of me agreeing to go out with Harry. However, the chances of me losing bigger than Harry's ego.

Perfection, Brielle. Just being a commoner is better than being the leader of the losing team even though neither option was a path to perfection. It seemed right to give up my role as president right now before my courage diminishes.

Although this might not be the best time to express my thoughts because of the excitement, I should do it now for my own sake. There was no way that I couldn't crack under the pressure. Plus, I was a horrible president.

As Mrs. O'Connor was gathering up the papers, I made my way towards her. She flashed a smile towards me.

"Thanks so much for the idea, Gabrielle. You're wonderful at your job as the president," Mrs. O'Connor praised as guilt washed over me.

"Um, about that. I don't really want to be the president. I've tried it and I don't think I worked out and I think someone like Delilah might be more fitting for the role," I confessed, putting in a good word for Delilah as well.

Mrs. O'Connor's face went through several emotions like a flipbook, confusion, shock, confusion again, irritated, and disappointed. She seemed like she was at a loss of words.

The last one was the worst of all. Disappointment. No matter how hard I try, I would still disappoint people. I'd been trying for as long as I could remember, yet it never works.

"Um, Gabrielle, you may want to think this over a bit more carefully. You're the first Junior to be elected to be president. As far as I know, Delilah wouldn't be fitting either as she got the least votes," Mrs. O'Connor frowned.

There was no way to explain the shock that washed over me when I came to the realization that Delilah had the least votes. She was the best leader I had ever known. Still, it would be better for us to be on an even field, both being peasants in the club, as supposed to my reign over it.

"Also, I'll spoil the surprise, if it means that you will keep your role. But promise me that you won't tell anyone else."

I nodded, thinking that there was no way that a single prize would make me want to do the dreaded, to lead.

"The prize is a recommendation letter to the colleges of choice for the captains, and a raised science grade for all members," Mrs. O'Connor said.

I stood there, silent as if I had just seen a ghost. How could that lady do this to me?! Clearly, she knew me well and my intentions as well. Still, how could I pick between a recommendation letter and the possibility of failing my team of a hundred?

A raised physics grade, I'd fail my teammates if I don't gain the grade for them. I'd be the devil. I thought. But just think about the letter.

I continued to battle with my conscience, this was too much like those cartoon scenes with the angel and devil sitting on the shoulders. Well, except that both of them seemed like angels. iCareful, Brielle, one of them is a devil with a fake halo.

I picked my fingernails, as if that would help. Maybe I should just try it out. Think about how mad mom would be if you gave up the role. I wanted to just cover my ears and behead the two "angels".

"Well?" Mrs. O'Connor asked, "How about you just give it a try?"

A try. You can never get even a chance if you don't try. M Maybe I won't fail? Who am I kidding? There was no way that I could win.

"Gabrielle, I work with a lot of students like you. One of them was your sister, Amanda. They took the chance and seized the opportunity, and there were no regrets at the end," she looked at me hopefully, wrinkles surrounding her brown eyes.

It was too hard to not get convinced by the hopeful glint in her eyes or to disappoint someone who had so much hope for me. Plus, her story seemed intriguing and if Amanda, who was like a duplicate of myself, had no regrets, it shouldn't be too bad.

"Well, let me know by tonight. Maybe talk to your sister," Mrs. O'Connor said, gathering her stuff.

"I will," I nodded, "Also, I have a question. Are you allowed to raise the grade just because we did community service?'

"Well, the Board of Education approved, since our school's record for good community service wasn't that great," Mrs. O'Connor said.

"Oh. Alright. Have a good night," I said, understanding that she wanted to leave.

"Send me an email tomorrow," Mrs. O'Connor called after me.


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