Harp Un-strung

I don't know where I'd be without her.

My parents?

They didn't have a clue about it.

Not that they'd care even if the news reached their ears.

Just reminiscing those days gives me a bad shudder. I wait for the mild panic attack to subside as I take a deep breath before steeling myself for the day ahead.

One day at a time, I cajole myself, one day at a time.

~ Mundane Happenings ~

The dying rays of the evening sun light up the sky in a dark hue of violet. Orange clouds laze above, seemingly unaffected by the turbulence of humanity below. The walk back home is a slow one -- partly because I don't want to be cooped inside, but mostly because I loathe the immediate silence after socializing with people.

It was my choice to live alone. The silence helps me think clearly, and I'm able to concentrate on my thoughts better without having someone around, breathing down my neck.

Over the last two years, I have become sufficiently independent. I know how to cook (my loyal taste buds fully agree), wash dirty linen and wipe the surfaces. My only luxury is a cleaner hired by Aunt Sherry who makes sure the house remains in its pristine condition.

I insert the key, and enter the house quietly.

Dark, creepy and classy -- my house will give Dracula a run for his money. With a flick of a switch, the lights come alive, bathing the house in a soft, warm glow. Mom invested in some classy, designer lighting. It's one of the few things that make this house worth living in.

Snuffles pads up to me wagging his tail and demands his daily dose of affection -- a bribe of his favorite dog food -- that I'm more than happy to provide.

He's the chief of the dogs around here, so I never had to worry about him getting bored. He recruits dogs to help him hound the other dogs in our neighborhood. He never interferes in my routine and has been a silent, albeit annoying, guardian to me all these years.

I wash my hands and enter the kitchen. Donning my Bluetooth headphone, I start chopping the vegetables for dinner. My favorite is a broth loaded with diced vegetables, strips of cooked meat and various assorted spices. After a few disastrous trials, I got the combinations right and stuck to it ever since. As I turn off the gas, my smartphone rings.

And there's only one person on God's green earth who would call me at this time.

"Hey sis," I greet her.

"Hiya studdly!" she chirps back in a horrible, godforsaken accent. "Whatchha doin?"

It's the same as ever. She enquires about my health, and I ask about hers in return.

Emma feels guilty leaving her baby brother alone in this miserable house. She phones me now and then just to make sure I haven't done something stupid. My news of getting "transferred" to Dan's school has nagged her suspicions, but she was glad I would have Dan to keep me company.

"Scored any girlfriends?"

This is one of those few times she needles the subject.

"Why are you so interested in my boring life?"

"Oh, come ON!" she wheedles. "As your adorable and awesome big sis, I have the right to know."

"Don't worry; your brother is the owner of a successful harem," I reply blithely. A dead silence greets me back from the other end as I pour my dinner and take a careful sniff of my handiwork. It's spicier than necessary.

Perfect.

"Bummer," she says after some time.

"I don't have the time, sis."

"Hermit."

"Whatever."

"All that is left for you is to run naked in the Himalayas."

Despite the many times I've wanted to strangle her, she always brings a smile to my face. We talk for a few minutes more before saying our goodnights. I take a seat in the huge dining table and say my daily prayer with a religious fervor:

"May the gracious lord have mercy to prevent thy humble servant from choking on his own rations. Amen."

After wolfing down my meal and cleaning up, I visit Daniel's house for one of our clandestine nightly meetings. Our discussions usually start with current events, and slowly veer towards girls and women of our school and beyond. It always does.

Dan and my sister are the brains of our family. No doubt whatsoever. Dan coached me so well that I excelled in almost every major subject. It's a boon. On the flipside, I doze at the insanely boring lectures.

"Guess what," he begins. "There's a major upcoming project in socials."

"I hate that topic," I groan.

"You can to do a nice exposé on Little Home. I'm sure Claudine can help you out with the details."

My mood takes a U-Turn immediately.

"The project will be a walk in the park, literally."

"Yeah, here comes the catch."

"What?"

"It's a team-work. You'll be paired with one of the girls, and your partner won't be of your choice. It depends on your academic track record."

I had a good record in my previous school. Perhaps that won't count.

"So, I'll be paired with...?" I ask hopefully.

"You're new, so you'll be paired with someone whose record is neat."

That'll take some load off my chest, at the very least.

"What about you?"

His grin is outright creepy. "I usually get paired with Missy. She's an absolute delight to work with."

Nina had taken some time out at lunch to hammer in the names of a few prominent members of my new school. Redhead, busty and an impossible ass -- that's all I remember about Dan's partner.

"Let me guess," I say, "she's stupid?"

"Of course, not!" he exclaims indignantly, "She's a highly intelligent - and a highly sexual - creature."

His obtuse innuendo doesn't take long to hit home.

"You didn't."

His sly, near maniacal, grin speaks for him. I know my cousin lost his virginity before he hit eighteen. With his looks and easygoing manners, he can charm his way into any Ice Queen's pants.

"She has a boyfriend, doesn't she?" I ask.

Matt is another jock gorilla of my current school. He'd love to pulp Dan if he gets the chance.

"So what!" he says, and leans back in his chair. "That ass can't make her happy, so I have to do his job instead. As long as she's, er, satisfied, I don't have to worry about it."

It isn't every day that my cousin narrates his sexual adventures in detail to a bumpkin like me. Listening to his exploits gives me the courage to start fantasizing about my own.

"What do you think?" I ask. "Can I have a shot at my partner?"

"If I were you, I'd carefully stake her out and draw the lines first before making a move. Then I'd start with something like --"

I sigh. "I wasn't being serious, Dan."

I had to stop him before he started one of his goddamn lectures on sexual approach.

"Mike, you're eighteen! When the fuck are you going to be serious?"

"When I find the right girl, I'll think about it," I say solemnly.

I don't really believe I will ever find the right girl.

My cousin shakes his head in disappointment. "Someday, you'll die a virgin and get canonized as Saint Michael, I tell ya."

Having successfully blended in with the crowd, I got to know most of the faces. I'd like to credit this incredible achievement to my ninja skills, but the hard fact that a boring guy barely makes any ripple is a wonderful truth I freely admit to.

My current school...well, it isn't that bad. There are good guys and there are bad guys.

And there are the ones in the middle.

My cousin and his rowdy group fall in the third category. Daniel made sure that I sat with him instead of moping about my own. His friends, now mine as well, don't talk about my past. Perhaps they already know, but they don't talk about it. They know their respective lines and choose not to breach it. I gladly return the favor and watch their backs.

Today, I'll be assigned to a partner. Dan's words still echo inside my head. There's nothing I can do about the inevitable, except keep my fingers crossed. I hope that my partner's obnoxiousness is above my permissible levels.

I don't know why this project is making me antsy. The beat of my pounding heart is an instinct that I've grown used to over the years. It's a premonition of something disastrous coming my way. Perhaps my partner is a murderous lunatic.

Worse still, it would be a jock.

If that happens, I'd rather hang myself with old, smelly socks.

The teacher, Cate Mahen, enters the class. I watch with trepidation as she opens her file and takes out a printed sheet. She adjusts her spectacles and pores over through the list.

"I'm sure all of you are aware of the project and its details. There have been a few adjustments, but the idea remains the same. It's a team-work, and I expect all of you to cooperate..."

Blah blah blah.

"Partners once assigned will not be changed."

Damn.

"Asher, Samuel," she calls out the first name on the list.

Sam stands up slowly, desperately trying to hide a smirk with his hand but fails.

He told me earlier that his regular partner faints with dread every time they're paired together. Despite Sam's reassurance that he'll do every bit of his share, his partner hyperventilates from day one. So, he goes with the flow and scares her whenever he gets the chance.

"Your partner will be Karen Marr."

Karen, the mousy brunette sitting beside me, quietly bangs her head against the desk. She looks at Sam with dread, and Sam returns her gaze with an evil all-knowing wink. I can't help but shake my head. The moment isn't far when I'll be wanting to bang my own head.

Two people out of the picture. I hear a few more groans and giggles before my name pops up.

"Lehane, Michael," she calls out.

I stand up, and smile sincerely at her. She reads the list, readjusts her spectacles, and pores through the list again. Then she looks at me over the rim of her half-moon glasses.

I feel like a goat being scrutinized just before its slaughter.

"You're new?"

Go figure.

"Yes, Ma'am," I reply.

She looks back at her list. Did I somehow piss her off?

Chill the fuck out Mike, I cajole myself, it's just a project...a career-determining, make-or-break, larger than life project that you can't afford to mess up.

"Ah, yes. There have been a few changes to accommodate your name into the list. Although, that makes no difference..."

Say the name already, four-eyes.

"You partner is..."

~ Stranger Danger ~

My guts freeze every time the teacher assigns a project in Socials.

Not that I hate the subject, but I dread my would-be partner. Last time, I was paired with Jim, and I had to do all of his work. That asshole couldn't do anything other than whine about how less attentive I was becoming to him with each passing day.

Fucking leech.

I watch people being assigned with their respective partners, and I pray that I don't get someone who'll mess this up. It's set-up in a random order most of the time. Prayers are the only thing that can save me.

"Lehane, Michael."

He stands up and puts a huge, outrageously fake smile on his face. His efforts are worth the snigger that erupts around him. Mrs. Mahen reads the list, readjusts her spectacles, and pores through the list again. Then she looks at him over the rim of her half-moon glasses.

He keeps shifting his weight on his feet, something he does when he's nervous.

"You're new?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replies brightly.

She looks back at her list again.

Introduction of new kids changes the pattern, wreaking havoc on the regular partners. Means there are chances that I won't be paired with asshole Jim.

A big grin splits my face as I consider my options.

"Ah, yes. There have been a few changes to accommodate your name into the list. Although, that makes no difference. Your partner will be...Claire Bennet."

Phew! She didn't pair me with --

Wait what?!

"Are you all right, Claire?" she asks me.

I jerk back to my senses.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Yes, Ma'am..." I say in the smallest voice possible.

"You made a strange noise. Are you sure? The doctor might be available..."

"That won't be necessary, Ma'am," I insist, trying to squeeze myself into a smaller size. I hope he didn't notice me.

She nods absentmindedly and goes back to the list. Lehane was observing me all this time. I soooo hope he doesn't recognize me as that bitch from Day One. His face reveals nothing, but his eyes say it all.

Anxiety, anger...disgust.

"Michael, you may sit now."

He sits down quietly, and throughout the rest of the class, he doesn't move a muscle. I don't know if I should be happy, or curse my luck instead.

Apparently, I'm an incorrigible bitch in his eyes.

So what?

I don't care what he thinks about me. I never cared what anyone thought about me. Why should I be bothering about him?

Screw him, says my erratic inner voice. Who cares?

He matters because he's a potential screw-up for your career, says my more sensible inner voice.

I sigh in defeat. There's no way I can do this all alone. I need his cooperation, even if I have to drag him buck naked, screaming and kicking and lock him inside a dungeon.

It's funny how a simple project can put students through so much mental drama. I'm hyperventilating and cooking up wishful scenarios. Perhaps, he isn't that mean, or nasty. I have to try and see for myself.

The cafeteria din is unnoticeable as compared to the noise of my inner thoughts. I should've been more alert as I suddenly see Jim approaching me.

Too late to make a run.

I really wish Mother Earth could swallow and puke him somewhere far, far away from me.

"Claire!" he exclaims, his voice agitated. "I'm trying to convince Mahen to get us back together. We'll totally ace this project."

Yeah, you and I together sound so good.

Said no one ever.

I ignore him as he rattles on about his teacher conspiracy theories and other bullshit. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Lehane making an exit from the cafeteria.

This might be my chance.

"Shut up," I order Jim briskly. His jaw is hanging midair, stuck between repetitions of some mumbo-jumbo, as I hurry towards my grumpy partner.

"Hey!" I call.

He doesn't stop, and walks out of the cafeteria.

Stupid me. What was his name?

"Michael Lehane!" I call again, and he stops this time. He turns around and looks directly at me. He's partly surprised and partly annoyed. Up this close, his liquid brown eyes are...mesmerizing.

"Yes?"

I screech to a halt and pause to collect my scattered thoughts.

"We're partners," I say lamely.

Damnit, take control, Claire!

"So?" He isn't making it any easier for me. I don't know if it's deliberate.

"Look we're partners," I say, "and we have to work together. If you get lesser marks, so do I."

He cocks his head slightly to the right. "So, you're implying I'm stupid?"

"No!" I insist. Pissing him off is the last thing I want. "It's just that...I don't know you, and we have to start ASAP."

His eyes soften. Finally, I've made some sense.

"What do you want?" he asks cautiously.

"Can I have your number?" His eyebrows shoot up, and I add hastily, "We'll have to talk after school and keep ourselves up-to-date."

"Anything else?"

"Do you have any idea about this project?"

"Dan filled me in with the details," he says. Of course, he's the cousin of the bloody valedictorian.

"Do you have something in mind?" I ask. Maybe we could chalk out something.

"I have something in mind," he says with a nod.

Please, not the women's shelter, I pray. That has been done to death.

"Little Home, owned by Claudine Marie...have you heard about it?" he asks.

"Of course I have," I exclaim. Everyone knows about her. "But the project wouldn't be worth anything if we can't get an interview with the head."

Claudine Marie refused to entertain any visitors unless they had urgent issues that had to be taken care of immediately.

My mother tried once. She was left red-faced.

He shrugs nonchalantly. "She's a personal friend. She can't say no to me."

No. Way.

"That would be...great."

"When will we start working?"

I want to say now, but building a good temporary relationship with my partner is the first step. Pushing him around could backfire badly.

"Can we start tomorrow? You can ask Claudine, in advance, if she's willing to help us out."

"Anything else?" he asks.

"Uhhm...nothing I can think of right now."

"Okay, then. See you tomorrow."

With that, he turns around and walks away. I realize my heart is beating erratically. I gulp and wait for it to slow down.

What the hell just happened?

~ Mister Who ~

"Spill!"

It's hard to avoid Joyce's interrogation once she smells something. She's like a friggin' shark. As soon as she heard me on the phone, she demanded to know what happened earlier today.

"I said spill!" she repeats.

"I told you there's no one."

Oops.

"I knew it. What's he like? I want names!"

"Joyce," I insist, "I swear he's just my project partner."

"Ooooooh!" she teases. "I like the way you say partner."

"Dammit, Joyce, I'm not joking!" I say in my sternest voice, but end up giggling. It's never easy to remain serious around her.

"Alright, alright! So, seriously, what's he like?"

"Umm..." I think hard. It isn't easy now that I have to picture him. "He doesn't speak much, like a reclusive mystery full of secrets."

"All that observation from one meeting?"

"You know how much I like to observe people."

"Yeah, like a lil' dingo," she quips.

I laugh. "He's new, so I think his so-called allure will wear off once I figure him out. But I know that won't be easy."

"Is he rude?"

"He isn't rude," I say, reclining back on my bed. "He's just...cautious."

"Wow. Now, that's interesting," she says. "So, what does he look like? Is he a strapping fellow?"

"Joyce, you pervert!"

"Guilty," she admits giggling, then she adds, "but I'm really curious. You never blathered about a single guy like this before."

"I blathered on the phone?"

"Yes you did. Now, don't change the topic."

"Okay, let me think about it."

I start creating a mental image, and slowly his face comes alive. His dirty blond hair, his brown expressive eyes, his cute boyish looks that he's completely unaware of...his lean, yet toned body that are perfectly --

"Helooo? Earth to Claire!"

"What?"

"So what does he look like?" she repeats slowly, as if I'm a dunce.

"He's unique," I say after some time.

Dead silence. Peals of laughter follow next. She gasps for breath, only to laugh again at a joke I don't remember making at all.

"Oh my god," she gasps after some time.

"Did I say something funny?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Oh, Claire!" she says after she finally catches her breath. "You won't believe me even if I held up a neon signboard in front of you."

"Try me," I offer.

"Trust me, you won't," she says after another fit of giggles. "Okay, I have to take my medicines now. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Uh huh."

"Bye, sweets! And thank you so much for the laughs."

And with that she cut me off.

This time, I'm left staring at my phone. I don't remember say something peculiar...did I? But then, Joyce is very sensitive, and could be eccentric at times. I conclude that my cousin is nuts, and go outside for a much-needed walk.

Date of Birth unknown.

Abandoned at birth. Brought up in a now closed orphanage, and ran away at the age of eight. Several years later, organizes dozens of successful non-profit organizations including shelter for the homeless, children and orphans.

Awarded at numerous prestigious events, felicitated twice by the President himself and once by the UNICEF. Voted by the Times Group as the most influential Feminist and Champion for the cause of Orphans and Homeless thrice in a row.