Page 105 of Eyes Like Angel
Adrian’s fingernails punctured onto Romano’s bone, drawing a crying wince in Romano’s visage, a once arrogant and playful one into suffering.
To make matters worse, Romano took retaliation by putting his hand and wrapped around Adrian’s neck; Mrs. Rivers intervened, along with Sister Joanne, Sister Jane and Emily barging into a scene at a parking lot. Everyone’s eyes were watching us, in awe and disdain. I hated their stares, wishing could pluck their eyes out to bring misery, but I shoved this morbid wishes aside.
“What in the hell is going on here?!” Mrs. Rivers exclaimed, horrified at their commotion stirring. “Someone needs to explain this. Now!”
No one was able to fill the information in. If Mrs. Rivers finds out about the shenanigans with Romano and Adrian’s protection from Marceline being shoved, things might escalate into a worse case retribution, not wanting Adrian to get at the end of a short stick—hanging by the thread when the thread is about to snap in half.
Her back coiled forward, almost forming a hunch. “Talk now or I’m calling the cops—”
“They were playing charades, Mrs. Rivers,” I began, playing my fingertips on my gloved hands, fright vibrated in my nerves. “They thought it might be better for them to pass time by playing charades. Apparently, they’re good actors, and wanted to put their potential for a good contribution in to be as actors for the scene in a Bible they’ve come up an idea with,” I explained, devoid of stutter, devoid of unnecessary violence. “They’re reenacting a scene in one of the bible verses.”
Mrs. Rivers crossed her arms, squinting her gaze at me. “And what scene is this?”
“Cain and Abel,” I simply stated, my hands intertwined. “Where Cain is about to kill Abel,” then I glimpsed at them, “and apparently one of them wants to play as Cain. Maybe they can do that for next year’s reenactment, have auditions and a casting director to decide who’s better.”
The wintry air became still.
Mrs. Rivers finally took into a consideration. “It seems like my son has done his assignment to participate and join us in a holy community, where we care about people, poor or rich. I thought that was an excellent job on your behalf,” she said to me, then eyeing her son in disdain. “I was hoping for my son to be one of us soon, anyway. With an idea of a reenactment for the following year might be a swell idea. Who knows it might be soon next year or so, depending on the schedule.”
The air locked in my lungs exhaled. The memes on the internet has been paid off to pave my feign confidence in.
Mrs. Rivers’ glare signaled for both boys to release each other from their coiled grasp, and watched Romano resuming back to his work.
The crowd’s attention withdrew back as Mrs. Rivers retreated while Sister Joanne narrowing her eyes at me before dispersing back to Father Divine; Sister Jane is infuriated at me, eyeing back and forth between me and Adrian before she stomped her way at a thick crowd, reunited with Brother Josh, who was ignoring my existence and consoled Sister Jane.
Emily, in her nun outfit, brushed past me, hissed the words, ‘You’re such afucking liar,’ onto my ear, and flounced far to reunite with her angry friends, who were staring at me, after Emily accusingly pointed her index finger at me, for being at a close proximity with their favorite men, as one sandy blond-haired girl sneered, baring her abnormally straight, pearly teeth, leering at me, snickering like I have a chance with their muses.
Along with Sister Jane, who was begrudgingly disregarded me by rolling her eyes again and repositioned her back to me, to not meet my gaze, it was certainly bizarre for someone like her to stare at me just to ignore me at the end in full grudge. Her ginger hair unruly, flaring as if her head was angry at me, too.
Meanwhile, Adrian clenched and unclenched his bare fist and took one last glance lingering onto me before disappearing, back to his duty calls on unloading boxes and organizing the supplies and cooperating with Mr. Rivers’ assistants. As I followed his retreating form, Bjorn examined me with an unreadable countenance moments before he turned his back on me.
Exhaling, a blank, numbing sensation eclipsed me as I strolled back at the church’s entrance, and as soon as Micah saw my ghastly state, he and Marceline consoled me in a best way possible, not outlandish or foolish for once.
28
Adrian
Around seven in the evening, after lifting and brisk walking around the ground floor at the church for the charity program, a knock came at my bedroom door.
“Michael, someone’s here to see you,” Mom notified in a merry mood.
Frustratingly disrupted, I groaned from my deep nap, rubbing my face with both hands. Using the remote control, I clicked the lamp by the night stand on and adjusted it to dimness, not wishing for a brightest light to flash on my sleepy eyes.
Did she get another package again? Oh boy, she never stops her addiction.
“I can’t I’m busy,” I responded, tossing the blanket aside and had my body turned, wanting no unwarranted visitors disrupted on my beauty sleep which keeps me from stressing the fuck out.
A noise banged. “Michael, get the fuck out of your bedroom! Now, like, as in now! Hurry the fuck up!”
The high level of stress she overloaded on me came.
Controlling my breathing, I paused by falling asleep again, but no to avail.
She slammed my bedroom door with her fist that created a harsh bang jumped straight to my heart and nervous system, angry because she couldn’t break the electric lock I install, angry because she couldn’t figure out the pin code solely for me to enter and have my own privacy.
Nevertheless, I put on my red and gold-accentuated robe, and had myself dragging downstairs by force, only to see Amelia—Emily—at my doorstep, with an ivory box contained in plain frosted cookies I despised, which had me guessing whether Emily is a vegan by heart, too.
Leaning on a doorway, my eyes flicked once more onto the box of cheap-looking cookies, even Marceline will think these cookies look like someone took a white shit dumped in a toilet bowl and fried it by the oven and had an overly bright-colored frosting over the baked pieces and call it a day.
