Chapter 3 Milk candy

Today was not the maiden voyage of Bella to the classroom; the scene within those four walls was already etched into familiarity, yet a peculiar flutter twined its way around her heart, whispering of some looming surprise. There's a saying that women's intuition is of paramount significance, allowing them a peek into moments that elude the attention, intentional or otherwise, of others.

As her hand reached into the desk compartment to stow away her bag, it brushed against something spherical, a petite object reminiscent of a piece of chalk. But no, it was a... milk candy. Alongside, a minuscule note, its surface adorned with tiny characters, read: "Have a cheerful morning. Help me out, will you?"

Bella's gaze swiftly darted towards the distant desk at the room's end, catching the eyes of David. His eyes, all of a sudden, seemed more cordial than ever, the charming contours of his mouth gently curving into a smile as if they'd been close since time immemorial. He left her teetering on the brink of belief and skepticism, starkly contrasting the person she first met.

With a coy turn, while David's eyes lingered and his smile remained, Bella was distracted by Linda's voice, intercepting her train of thought.

"What's that you have there?"

Startled, Bella swiftly pocketed the candy and pointed toward the door as the teacher entered the room.

"Nothing at all. Let's get ready. The lesson's about to begin."

Linda sensed something amiss but refrained from prying further since Bella wasn't willing to divulge. However, she couldn't shake off the notion that, recently, something had altered within Bella, leaving Linda shaking her head in bewildered amusement.

Linda often quipped that the subject of General Law was an extraordinary remedy exclusively for those plagued by chronic insomnia. Otherwise, it served as a tranquilizer, lulling the soul into a realm of dreamy oblivion. Despite the boredom, Bella remained diligent, reminding herself that someone at the back awaited her response.

Bella was entwined in a mental puzzle, wavering between affirmations and rejections, feeling awkward yet daring not to confide in anyone. Another lesson ebbed away, leaving no trace except for David's smile in Bella's mind.

David's presence was like a pebble tossed into a tranquil pond, ripples gently undulating across the surface, akin to Bella's emotional turmoil, wanting to accept yet fearing to, wishing to reject yet not having the heart to.

The subsequent General Law lessons imbued Bella with an amalgamation of anxiety, excitement, and anticipation, and she gradually adopted the habit of casting her gaze toward the back of the room as soon as she entered.

Today, like every other, Bella reached into her desk to store her bag. Once again, her fingers encountered something round, akin to... the candy from the day before. Hurriedly, she looked towards David again, that same smile disrupting her serenity, joy burgeoning in the young girl's heart.

Then came the third, fourth, ... and nth candy, similarly reaching the previous. Linda found it strange and couldn't help but ask in a whisper.

"You like milk candies, don't you? Why do you always carry them when you go to school?" Bella endeavored to force a smile, masking whatever thoughts threatened to surface. She didn't want Linda to know, fearful that questions would come pouring in-her friend was quite the chatterbox on an average day.

"No," Bella said.

Inherently curious, Linda had a knack for digging into the minutiae whenever a conversation began. She glanced at a boy at the back of the classroom and then at her close friend, eagerly probing.

"Hey, why does that boy keep looking and smiling at you, and why do you reciprocate? Do you like him or something?" Caught off guard by Linda's inquiry, Bella shook her head awkwardly and bowed slightly, hoping to conceal her discomfort.

"No." Linda, befuddled, posed a mighty question in her mind but failed to find an answer. "It's puzzling. Something seems strange."

Bella remained silent. Every day, seeing a candy in her desk drawer, she knew someone was watching and smiling at her. Everyone dreaded Mondays, the start of the week, which seemed to stretch forever before the weekend could return.

But for Bella, Monday was particular. It added another day to her week and another candy to her collection. As autumn matured, intensifying its chill and cloaking the sky in a golden hue akin to ripe paddy fields, imbued with dementia meant like the heart of a young girl embracing subtle, modest happiness. Day by day, Bella's fondness for school grew.

She attended diligently, an invisible allure governing the thoughts of a tangible being, her love for school covered within a more significant yet unspoken love. But as she stepped into the classroom, the bubbling joy and excitement within Bella were promptly extinguished. The smile that played on her lips retreated, leaving her face awash with melancholy.

She glanced to the back of the room, but today, David was absent, his small desk seeming to bear a massive void. The desk drawer, too, was empty, the candy missing. Looking at the attendance sheet, Bella suddenly remembered something David had once said. She hesitated for a long while, whispering about the necessity of fairness and honesty, but would David get mad about it? Her hesitation lingered, but eventually, the roll call ended when the teacher entered. Each lesson always seemed to be of equal length, but today felt unusually longer. If there were a deity symbolizing disappointment, its visage would resemble Bella's at this moment.

When Bella arrived, Linda noticed something was amiss: her introspective gaze, a cloud of preoccupation shadowing her usual enthusiasm. Linda gently nudged her, whispering, "What's with you today? Did you lose your debt book or something?" Bella sighed in response, an unspoken weariness seeping through her, draining all vitality.

Seeing this, Linda chose not to pry further, obediently focusing on their studies until the session's end.

Professor Brown barely began speaking when Bella abruptly stood, clumsily grappling with a thick textbook before her. Her fingers hurriedly fluttered through the pages toward chapter three, yet it eluded her grasp. "Class president," Professor Brown prompted, her voice gentle yet firm, "please stand and read the opening of chapter three aloud for all to hear."

The room erupted in soft laughter as the boy behind Bella leaned forward, deliberately turning pages in a playful sabotage. "How will you find it if you hold the book upside down, Bella?"

Bella's cheeks blossomed into a vivid rose, her nimble fingers suddenly clumsy and entwined, unable to master the simple choreography of turning pages. Professor Brown teased Bella with a playful spirit, aiming to uplift her mood and instill a light-heartedness into the class atmosphere. "What's the matter today, dear president? You seem quite unfocused. Has someone bewitched your heart, perhaps?"

Another student joined the jovial ribbing of their gentle and charming class president, leaving Bella increasingly at a loss for words. "Professor Brown, is this how a girl acts when a boy steals her soul? I want to try it once." A girl seated below cheerfully poked fun at Bella, transforming the tenseness of the lesson into a lively buzz. "We should have the president confirm that, shouldn't we?"

Professor Brown continued the good-natured teasing, giving the class hearty laughter. She cast a caring gaze towards Bella, offering silent encouragement.

"Falling in love demands focus; if you're distracted, love might flutter away, dear president."

Thus, Bella endured, forcing herself through to the end of the session. Instead, she dared not lift her gaze, immersing herself in a cacophony of disjointed thoughts, self-dubbing as the fool amidst them. As the bell signaled the end of the lesson, Bella hastily packed her books and quietly, with heavy steps, tread towards the bus station, perpetually echoing the question "Why?" in the recesses of her mind.

Now under the midday sky, her stomach hollow and growling incessantly, Bella gently rubbed it, seeking solace yet finding none. She must hasten home for resolution, she thought, growing increasingly anxious. However, fate has ordained that she waits for the bus, not vice versa.