Chapter Five: Bubblegum and Butterflies by Lynette Ferreira
Charlize stood in the kitchen, her cast-covered arm awkwardly resting on the counter as she poured milk into her cereal with her left hand. Her hand shook, spilling drops of milk on the kitchen counter. The pink plaster felt heavier today, like a constant reminder of her collision with Daniel McCarthy—the delinquent who had shattered more than just her arm. She could still see the faint imprint of bubblegum in her hair when she glanced at the mirror, despite her mom's frantic efforts to remove it. Everything about the situation screamed unfair.
Her mom’s sharp voice echoed through the house.
"Charlize, come here!"
Charlize frowned and walked toward the living room, where
her mother sat on the plush white couch, phone clutched tightly in her hand.
Annemarie van der Merwe’s expression was a mask of indignation.
"Mr. Du Plessis, I insist something be done about that
boy," she said, addressing the principal on speakerphone. "It’s
unacceptable that a student like him is allowed to cause such harm. My daughter
is in pain. She has a cast, and this will undoubtedly affect her studies."
Charlize groaned internally. Her mom had gone from fretting
to full-on crusader mode in less than 24 hours, a transformation that left
Charlize feeling both embarrassed and exasperated. Did her mom really think
this was helping? The weight of her cast seemed to intensify as she stood
there, caught between her desire to defend herself and her frustration at the
situation spiralling out of her control.
"Mrs. van der Merwe," Principal Du Plessis
replied, his tone calm and measured. "I understand your concerns, and I
assure you, we take incidents like this very seriously. I will speak with
Daniel today and determine the best course of action."
"See that you do," Annemarie huffed. "And I
expect accountability."
Charlize cringed as her mom ended the call with a flourish,
slamming the phone down on the coffee table. "There. That boy needs to
learn consequences."
"Mom," Charlize began, trying to rein in her
frustration. "I’m fine. It was an accident."
Annemarie’s lips thinned. "Accident or not, someone
needs to ensure you’re supported while you’re recovering. This is about more
than just your arm, Charlize. It’s about ensuring you succeed despite the… distractions."
*
Meanwhile, in the principal's office, Daniel slouched in the
stiff leather chair, one leg bouncing with restless energy. He had been
summoned during his free period and he knew exactly why. The memory of
Charlize’s mom’s icy glare as she dropped Charlize off this morning in her
expensive BMW, made his stomach churn. He tried to shake off the unease
creeping up on him, but a nagging thought remained: Maybe this time he had
really gone too far. He fiddled with the frayed edge of his blazer sleeve, and
did his best to mask his guilt with an air of nonchalance.
Principal Du Plessis leaned back in his chair, fixing Daniel
with a stern look. "Do you know why you’re here, Daniel?"
"Let me guess," Daniel said with a smirk.
"Someone’s upset about their hair."
Principal Du Plessis’ brow furrowed. "This isn’t a
joke. Charlize van der Merwe suffered a serious injury because of your
carelessness. You’re lucky her parents haven’t pressed charges."
Daniel’s smirk faded. He rubbed the back of his neck, guilt
twisting his stomach. "I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. It was an
accident."
"Perhaps," the principal said, his tone clipped.
"But actions have consequences, Daniel. As of today, you’ll be assisting
Charlize as her study helper."
Daniel’s head shot up. "What?"
"She’s recovering from her injury and needs support.
This arrangement will ensure she stays on track academically while teaching you
responsibility."
Daniel’s mouth opened to argue, but Principal Du Plessis
held up a hand. "This isn’t negotiable. You’ll meet Charlize after school
today to go over the subjects you’ll help her with. I suggest you take this
seriously, or there will be further consequences like detention for the rest of
the term, suspension, or even community service hours. Do I make myself
clear?"
Daniel leaned back, crossing his arms. "Fine.
Whatever."
The principal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You’re capable of more than this attitude, Daniel. Show me you can rise
to the occasion."
*
Charlize’s day passed in a haze of whispers and sidelong glances as word spread about her accident. By the time the final bell rang, she was exhausted both from the physical ache in her arm and the mental strain of pretending she wasn’t bothered by the stares. Most of all it was the humiliation of being sprawled on the concrete and everyone gawking at her that bothered her the most.
When she reached the library, Daniel was already there,
slouched in a chair with his skateboard resting against the table. He looked up
as she entered, his dark eyes meeting hers with a mix of defiance and something
she could not quite place.
"Great," Charlize muttered, dropping her bag onto
the table. "This is just what I needed."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Trust me, princess, I’m not
thrilled either."
She glared at him, her frustration bubbling over. "This
isn’t some punishment for me. I’m the one with the broken arm, and it’s my
right arm. I’m right-handed! Do you know how impossible it’s going to be to
write my exams like this?" She hesitated, her annoyance fading slightly as
the reality of the situation sank in. She needed help, that much was
undeniable. If she tried to tough it out alone, her grades would suffer, and
she couldn’t let that happen. The pain in her arm was relentless, making it
impossible to hold a pen steady enough to take her own notes. Each attempt to
jot down even a simple sentence left her frustrated and defeated. With a
resigned sigh, she decided that dealing with Daniel’s attitude was a small
price to pay to stay on track. She just needed him to write down her notes for
her. It should be easy and simple. They would not have to spend more time
together than absolutely necessary.
"And I’m the one stuck playing tutor,"
Daniel shot back. "So maybe we can both agree this sucks and just get it
over with."
Charlize stared at him, taken aback by his bluntness. For a
moment, the tension hung thick between them. Then she sighed, pulling out her
notebook. "Fine. Let’s just get through this."
Daniel leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"That’s the spirit."
Watching Daniel write out summary notes for her was both a
relief and an annoyance. She hated depending on him but knew she had no choice.
If she wanted to stay on top of her studies, she’d have to rely on him, even if
it made her skin crawl.
When the topic of creative writing came up, he leaned
forward slightly, his voice losing its usual edge. "You don’t just write
what you see," he said, tapping his pencil on the page. "You write
what you feel. It’s like skating—you have to let go of control a little and
trust the flow. That’s when it clicks." As much as she hated to admit it,
she started to wonder if there might be more to Daniel McCarthy than she had
thought.
Comments
Post a Comment