Innocence - Liezl Bustillos (lightweight ebook reader txt) 📗

her to the vestibule enchanted by chandeliers and flowers. The carpeted hall clouded my ears with the seductive sweet sound of a human voice trapped in brass; the sound of bebop tenor sax took me into a different world combined with the adventurous juggling touch of piano. A big fountain surrounded by small spotlights gathered my attention as a crowd of people dancing in their elegant gowns and tuxedos flooded the place, some were even taking videos. Another group of men with strings were standing next to the stage, and when the music ended; they tapped their bows rhythmically on their music strands as others applauded with their hands. Maybe they would be performing too. There was a lady in a small group, dressed in a sparkling red gown holding a huge harp. Some people were shaking her hands. I wished to hear her perform too.

"Wow! I didn't know this place exists inside the campus."

"Me neither. And I just realized the performers are actually from the school's music club. I had no idea they are this good. I thought the real Charlie Parker was playing the sax." She looked at me and straightened my back. "Don't forget that it's not always about the looks, sometimes it's about the attitude and poise. Stop slouching." She said snapping her fingers on almost every word. "You need to have every seductive aura if you want Charles to see how gorge you are tonight."

Ichigo's phone rang, "We're here. Where are you guys?" She paused, looked around and grabbed my hand as we walk towards the carpeted spiral stairs.

The second floor was also crowded with groups of people chatting. Their stylish accessories, shiny and fancy handbags glimmered diamonds and gemstones. They were like walking chandeliers. Everyone was dressed to kill and up to the nines.

"Talent scouts." She said.

"What's that?"

"People looking for people. And they are everywhere. The gymnasium must be somehow connected to this building."

There was a big door which looked like an entrance to a movie house. Ichigo slowly opened it, and brandished a concert hall inside. I actually never had been in one; just saw it on some brochure. The wide podium was sitting at the core of the big room. An old man was standing in the middle of it and upon seeing him, Ichigo elated with excitement. He was saying something I failed to catch on which the crowd applauded with a soft chuckle.

Ichigo pointed to the far left near the other big door. Chelsea was waving at us. Ichigo gave her a smooch on the cheek. When our eyes met, she asked in a whisper, "Is this Sammy?"

"What do you think?" Ichigo nodded grinning as we launched ourselves to seats next to her.

"You look very, very different." She said in astonishment. "You look stunning." I squeezed my hand in bashfulness. Not used for such words.

The place had hollowness in it, making our conversation sound empty but loud. Every thud made a ringing in my ear, even a cough from someone seats away sounded so loud but soft, that even the speaker knew where it was coming from. The speaker's voice sounded differently though- louder and clearer in any other way.

"So far so good VP. So what did we miss?" Ichigo asked keeping her voice down.

"You missed some introductions from our beloved student council President."

Ichigo looked at me, bottom lip jutting out and worded "Sorry". I replied lifting a shoulder.

“Outdoor sports clubs. I only watched Kyle’s game, they won the soccer match against JY Academy.”

“Nice!” Ichigo nodded, running a hand over her wavy hair. Her gold watch twinkling was enough to attract magpies. "I can't believe you guys invited Vladimir Blavatnik. That's freakin' Blavatnik of SunRise! Wow! How did you do that?"

"Well, our pres wanted to make some good impressions from his grandfather, so we surveyed our seniors regarding their future plans. Since most of them have their eyes on business-- knowing majority are already businessmen, they requested an invitation for Mr. Blavatnik. We're lucky. He is actually very enthusiastic about it. And Charles's father knew him unsurprisingly well."

"What about the others?"

"We also invited some noteworthy guests for them, like Josephine Hunt and Zasha Lee of Purple Diamond for our future designers and of course etcetera. Also talent scouts."

Applause oscillated in the big room. A student handed Mr. Blavatnik bottled water. The light dimmed and the projector started running.

"You guys are really serious about this. By the way, where's Kyle?"

"Oh, he's with Charles, Tasuki and Lester on the front."

"Lester?"

Chelsea shrugged. "You don't know him?"

"Is he cute?" Chelsea and I rolled our eyes heavenward. She tittered. "I need a drink."

"Oh, everybody knows we don't serve alcohol here, honey."

"Boring!" She hissed. She pulled me as she stood up.

"Where are you guys going?"

"My butt is hurting."

"You just came--"Chelsea scoffed. "Okay, I'm going with you."

"What about Kyle?"

"Oh come on, he's not a baby."

Outside, the music changed to the soulful sound of vibrating strings. People were watching the performance below. There was this feeling like there was water in my ears, swallowing hard helped. Must be the lagging difference of sound perception inside the concert hall and here outside. A waiter came carrying a tray of juggling drinks. Chelsea took a glass.

We went to the museum-like part of the building. There was an art-exhibition going on. From the art club? The atmosphere in here was quiet and mostly couples, group of boys debating their interpretations, and art-loving individuals. There was a small group of men (in forties or fifties) discussing with a student. They were praising him.

"A freshman. I've seen him before and had no idea he's a man of art." Chelsea said. "I guess you'll never know a talented man just by looking. You need to know the pathways of the puzzle in his mind to understand the world he's living. Geniuses sure live in a clandestine world."

"Can we speak informally?" Chloe suggested.

The painting was a dirty gray and white, illustrating an old man sitting with his head and one arm resting in a ragged wood box. Opened palm. On his feet was an empty can. Maybe the man is a beggar or maybe dead. The painting was giving a somber feeling due to its dull, dark color, broken houses, dilapidated buildings, dark heavy clouds with flashes of lightning and drops of rain. On the bottom part of the picture was a burnt book swimming in red mud. Just the words '...only him...' could be read.

Atheistic, political in nature, war, education or economy as they construed, but for me, it was a picture of what you see outside the orphanage. The desolated Region 56. The more I thought about the orphanage, the longer I could keep my eyes off the painting.

There were others beautifully made that could not be left ignored. I couldn't believe students of my age drew this. What took my interest was the painting of a big old tree. No leaves, no flowers. It seemed dead with snow on its feet and grey clouds above its head.

The feelings of nostalgia brought me back to my nightmares. A face I couldn't remember, dress with blood, and that feeling I always had whenever I remember ‘her’. The cold of winter.

A man stood beside me, hands on his pocket, eyes on the painting. Dark brown mussed up casual messy bed head look with bangs almost covering his thick brows, and an aquiline nose with a very prominent bridge-- he was the guy who saved my butt once.

It was during the last days of summer, I recalled. Three boys were heckling me; one clutching me from behind, one stuffing fist-sized marshmallows in my mouth while the other was trying to unbutton my uniform. Yes, boys like these existed in school. I was wildly screaming my lungs out, but the gooey pile didn't help-- it was choking me to death. My crying only made it worse, it made me hard to swallow and scream for help. He then came splashing us with two cans of soda. He was like Father Emmanuel sprinkling holy water that time. He said he was sleeping and we disturbed him. The boys walked away booing, then he threw the empty cans to me as he flee. It was a sticky memory.

"Soul of Winter." He mumbled. It was the title of the painting, by Hero Nakamura.

My cheeks warmed, gathering some courage to start a conversation and asked hesitantly, "Is this yours?"

I heard silence and embarrassment rushed through me, I suddenly wanted to run-- swiftly. Then his words came out, "Do you like winter?"

I thought hard, reflecting. "Isn't it sad? I’ve always hated winter.  It looked dormant. Life looked still, indwelling and silent." I bit my lip, unsure of what I was saying. "Do you like winter?"

"It's peaceful and quiet. Just by looking at it makes me want to sleep."

I chortled. Suddenly, Ichigo came and blindfolded his eyes. They know each other?

The guy gripped her hands, and said "Nicholas."

Ichigo's arms extended into an embrace. "I thought for a second you'd call me by my first name, Tasuki."

What? No way! Tasuki?! My cheeks flamed hotter; I wanted to hide this time. I couldn't stop my lips from twitching. With such a nice introduction we had before in his house, I had always thought I would never be able to face him.

Ichigo sniggered when Tasuki brushed her hands. "Tasuki, this is Sam Mizuki." She introduced. My chest suddenly fell to my stomach. "And Sammy, this is our Tasuki Takahara"

It was just a fleeting glance but, it was the first time I saw his face clearly, and the first time our eyes officially met. The last time didn’t count. My knees weakened when we did and realized I couldn't stop myself from staring. His hazel eyes were fiery with dominating flecks of gold.

"Where is that friend of yours you're not telling me about?"

Tasuki turned to face her and looked around, and nodded towards the guy approaching us with Chelsea prancing. Ichigo licked her lips. A muscle on Tasuki's face moved and a thin dimple over his perfect five o'clock shadow appeared when Ichigo turned to see his friend.

The guy was tall with muscles bulking over his well-fitting tuxedo, had clean heavy stubble that added attractiveness to his gleaming smile. Neutral skin, natural brown hair and thick brows that gave more life to his gunmetal eyes. There was no way Ichigo would not fall for this guy, the girls around the room said so.

"Oh, Greek nose." She whispered.

Finally he greeted with his deep manly voice, "Hello."

Chelsea’s pixie hair’s natural wave blew ever so slightly when she looked at me. "Lester Hellewege, this is Sammy, Sam Mizuki." Then shifted to Ichigo, "And this is Chloe Nicholas." Ichigo just stared at him. A tight-lipped smile flashed on his face forming crow's feet around his eyes, bowing his head nimbly.

"Of course, no alcohol.” Tasuki said.

Lester shook his head and laughed. "Too bad. All sweets."

"We can drink somewhere after this." Ichigo proposed.

"Do you drink, Sammy?" Chelsea asked. I whipped my head. All laughed, not Tasuki. "We'll take care of you."

Two teachers called Tasuki. He lightly pushed Ichigo on the curve of her back with his palm. After reading a lot of romantic gestures, that one must be the sweetest. Must be because they had known each other since childhood, or maybe more. Or maybe it was just me. The teachers were smiling when he came, even tapping his back and shaking his hand. Lots of girls glanced over at him, even men. Just what are these people, really? They're not celebrities, are they?

"How'd you know Tasuki?" Ichigo held her voguish nude handbag to her front. She placed her foot in front of the other, pointing at the hunky man. Chelsea saw this and specked her lip.

"Uh, we met in Region 122 six years ago. His grandfather knows my father, they're business partners actually. After I started my own business--"

"Oh, business? What kind?" She asked.

"Scrap metals." Both Ichigo and Chelsea nodded with delight. "Yeah... I eventually met Charles because of him." He hummed,