A mobster says loves me

Celine Ortiz narrates. Six years ago.

From inside the classroom, closer to the wall than the rest of my classmates, I was, momentarily distracted by the drops of water that slipped on the wide and transparent glass of the window that morning; It was raining, and I didn't like rainy days, much less when I was away from home, because the streets I had to walk to get home would get puddled and sometimes I had to let my shoes get wet, plus the dew from the occasional drizzle could soak my clothes and I hated walking around with moisture on me. I think I was always more of a lover of clear skies and sunny days.

I sighed.

"Ortiz," the teacher said my last name, making me return to the present in the corresponding turn. “Could you explain to me your answer to question number two of topic four of today's class? she asked, looking at me with a pair of aquiline eyes from the blackboard, holding the chalk and eraser in both hands.”

And as if he had addressed the rest of my classmates, they turned back to see me, all with their attention on me, waiting for me to come out of my quiet moment and say something, so I hesitated a bit and looked down at My open notebook had certainly distracted me for half a shift, because I hadn't even begun to copy topic four of that day's class. I swallowed, feeling a little embarrassed and then looked up, to see the teacher again, imagining that one day she would lose her patience with me and furiously throw the eraser at me, hitting it right on my forehead.

"I couldn't explain it, Professor," I said, taking what precautions I could not to turn red when my classmates started laughing at my lack of application in class.

She looked at me like someone looking at a vermin, like a stuffy, high-class lady; although possibly the salary that she received would not even be enough for a branded handbag and with great difficulty with said salary she could only buy the market of the month and pay her rent.

"Yes, I thought so," she murmured pointedly. “Try to keep your eyes on the board.”

I didn't say anything, nor did I pout, I just avoided looking at my classmates, who surely would have a small mocking smile painted on their faces, but they would forget about it, that's how things were in that school; Luckily I wasn't the one being harassed, she was just one more invisible who was often caught unawares, but from there no more. So I set out to start copying what the teacher went on to explain on the board.

I was never the first in the class, but I was never the last either, I never failed a subject or a course, but my grades were a little low, not much, although they were no better than regular; I doubted that he would ever get a place in a good university. I only fulfilled my duty to attend and pass, until now nothing motivated me, I didn't even know what I wanted for my future or what career to undertake; I spent my life watching the seconds go by and what had to happen something. I think that as a child I did have dreams and goals, but once I entered adolescence something inside me turned off, making me a boring, ordinary young woman, perhaps one more insipid of the bunch. But that brought me peace of mind, and if I was calm, then it was fine.

Then came the time for departure and the thought of returning home; that day it only played half a class shift; I wanted it to be all the corresponding hours; It was better to be in a room, invisible and living with my only two friends, than, in my place of residence, under the watchful eye and strict surveillance of my parents.

“What are you going to do this afternoon?” Daniela asked, taking the opportunity to bend the upper edge of the skirt a little and thereby shorten it more.

“Any. Or—I don't know, as much as possible I'll finish the tasks that are for tomorrow,” I said, keeping my eyes straight ahead along the corridor we were passing through, and my hands on the straps of my backpack.

"I already did them," Clara spoke to my other side in a friendly tone, holding a stack of books in her arms. “If you want I will lend you the material with which I helped myself.”

I smiled slightly and nodded.

"I'd like to, thank you."

"By the way, my mother said that on Saturday we will have a family lunch day, with friends too," Clara spoke to me again. “She told me that it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to invite you, she told me to ask if you wanted to join us.”

"And she didn't tell you anything about me?" Daniela asked from my other side, undoing the top buttons of her shirt, I imagine to show a little more cleavage. “Your mother seems to disown me.”

Neither of us answered that, but it was clear that, being a conservative and religious family, Clara’s parents did not have a very good idea of Daniela, who had a reputation for hanging out in inappropriate meetings with not very good boys. Reputation, plus the way they talk and dress could easily be grounds for some moral judgment. My parents sometimes also made some acid comments about it, but I just kept discreetly silent, for me the most important thing was the friendship that Daniela offered me, it was a bit slippery, perhaps, but that was her decision, not my decision. Mine and it would not have to affect me badly, I think that the values of sincerity, company and optimism were something to admire and that kept me in confidence with her.

“Your hair is very pretty today,” I said, to dissipate the tension a bit.

She immediately tried to look at the strands of her freshly dyed blonde hair.

“Yes, I cut it.” She combed it a little more with the fingers of one hand, it was limp and brushing her shoulders. “It’s easier to maintain like this.”

I nodded and turned to look at Clara’s and smiled at her too, she always carried it loose, hers was curly and quite dark, it reached her waist. While mine was a little brown, wavy and not too long and not too short, just below the shoulders. Anyway, I wasn’t a teenager who paid much attention to my hair style, there was something else for which I felt self-conscious and although I didn’t want to spend a lot of time thinking about it, I couldn’t help it when I got out of the shower and saw myself in the bathroom. Mirror.

We said goodbye and I got ready to go on foot to my home, which was an hour’s walk away, without stopping somewhere and speeding up my pace it would be maybe forty-five minutes, and I didn’t usually stay there to procrastinate in the street, since I would have plenty of time to do it at home.

That morning I did not answer Clara about her invitation, I would first have to check with my parents, however, I did take the book that she offered me so that I could get the answers from it for the next exam. On the other hand, I had to refuse once again to hang out with Daniela, the time she was proposing was almost at dusk, and if I didn’t want to be killed when I got home, I shouldn’t try to look foolishly at my friends. Parents.

Shower, lunch, snack, a broom at home and rest…

A call came to my phone shell and I saw that it was the phone number of Clara’s mother, surely it was to remind me of her invitation.

But not.

“Hello, Celine,” Clara’s voice.

“Hello, is everything okay?” I asked, having heard his slightly suspicious voice.

“For me yes, for you I don’t know.”

I raised half of my body from the bed, remaining seated with the mobile next to my ear.

“What happened?”