13

It was all over the school the next day.
 

For the whole week, in lecture halls, corridors, toilets and even the staff offices, everyone was talking about it. Those who didn’t know were quickly filled in by their friends, their reactions of the utmost disbelief. It was dubbed the ‘mummy car’, and the professor of whom the car belonged to was not amused after pushing through the huge crowd that gathered around his car in the morning. Videos of him throwing a fit in the car-park, spitting sulfurous Danish expletives, went viral online, along with photos of his car (it's a Mercedes). Also, the prankster didn't use just water. The professor found out later, while trying to remove the tissue, it was glued down.
 

Emails were sent out to the whole student body, informing that pranks, “though may seem to be a source of amusement for most students, it is not a laughing matter when the line is crossed. The school does not condone vandalism of any kind and that the perpetrator and his/her accomplices, if any, shall be dealt with accordingly.” They also urged students to come forward and share any information or if they had witness any suspicious activity the night before.
 

Until now, no one had taken responsibility. People are joking that a ghost probably wrapped the whole car up since one of the students heard a scream in the car-park that night. Fingers were pointing at the art students since it was near perfect how neatly plastered the tissue paper was and the artists in the school are known for their obsessive nature. But everyone suspected it to be one of the music majors, yet common opinion is that, they “don't seem like the type to do something of this nature.”
 

Irene wanted so badly to scream at them, Are you kidding? It WAS one of them! Wendy! She did it!
 

She was beyond terrified. Irene can’t ever imagine herself breaking the law, nor even the school rules. Submitting her homework a minute later has her on the verge of a panic attack while the slightest wrinkle in her school uniform back in high school had her eyes b with tears, worries of being caught by the head prefect for unkempt attire running through her mind for the whole day.
 

(No she is not obsessive…just cautious.)
 

What if Wendy gets caught? Will she point the finger at her? She might not want to go down alone and Irene can imagine that. Letters would be sent to her parents and then she would have to endure their cries of disappointment over the phone. Not only that, she would be shamed in front of the school and everyone would call her ‘The weirdo who vandalised a car'. It will be all over her records and forever, the mark would stay with her until she grows old, sitting in her rocking chair and regretting the decision to eat instant ramyun that fateful day.
 

Damn her stomach.
 

Damn that ramyun.
 

Damn those blue eyes.
 

More than a week after the prank, Irene stands in front of the headmaster's office after her morning class. There aren't any students around, which is a good thing since she had been rooted to the spot for almost thirteen minutes now. She stares at the glass door, gathering her courage and calming her nerves. Inhale. Count to three. Exhale. Count to five. Repeat.
 

She has never been to the headmaster’s office before, not even the staff offices in any of the schools she attended. To her, a visit there means you: a) caused a nuisance in class many times, b) your parents came down because a relative died, c) own all sorts of alarm clocks but still can’t get to school on time or d) the police is looking for you. Reading the title on the door, Irene has never felt so intimidated.
 

It is better this way - much, much better. The school requests for information, she will give it to them! It is the right thing to do! She doesn't care about what the professor had done to summon the wrath of an abnormal, blue-eyed weirdo who has taken the lead role in every single one of her nightmares over the past week. Covering up for one's crimes is wrong, and in no way is Irene prepared to be caught in the middle of all of this.
 

Alright, Irene tells herself, I can do this. Just get in there, explain everything and hey! Wendy will be called in and your record will remain clean! Clean like freshly laundered clothes!
 

With a final nod and one last exhale, she places a hand on the doorknob -
 

And promptly goes flying sideways.
 

No, there isn't an explosion of any sort. But the sudden change in direction catches her completely off-guard. Her brain seems disconnected from her senses for she feels like a leaf suddenly plucked from a branch and whooshing away to somewhere else. Her disorientation increases when she finally notices the distance between her and the office door.
 

And her mind becomes aware of a forceful grip on her elbow. Irene stumbles over her feet in an effort to anchor herself but whoever is pulling her, isn't going to slow down.
 

When she finally sees who it is, her jaw drops. She recognises that ombre hair like it's straight from the depths of her nightmares, "W-what are you doing here?! Let go!"
 

Wendy turns around with a lollipop stick poking out of , her steps never faltering. She gives a lopsided grin, pulling out the candy in one swift motion, "Hiya nerd. I hope you still remember my name."
 

Irene doesn't blink. "Let me go, Wendy!" She twists her neck, facing back down the hallway and reaches pathetically for the door, looking smaller and smaller in the distance. She begins to struggle, "Where are you taking me?!"
 

"I am kidnapping you."
 

Irene would have walked straight into a wall if Wendy had not pulled her away. "WHAT?!"
 

Wendy shrugs nonchalantly and pops the lollipop back into the inside of , "I'm gonna drug you and stow you away in the boot of my car."
 

Her eyes are round and so is . She frantically tries to pull her hand free but the girl is just too strong. "Are you serious?!"
 

"L-O-L no of course not. But about the kidnapping part? Yes."
 

In a last-ditch attempt, Irene tries calling out,"HELP- Hmphhh?!" She finds herself suddenly pressed against the wall, a hand clamping over . Her wide eyes are staring straight into a pair of very determined brown eyes (oh they're not blue today) that holds a trace of amusement in them. Her mind is still hazy and those eyes are a really, really huge distraction as she gulps at the infinitesimal space between them. Warm breath fans over her face and Irene attempts to remain upright. The position reminds her so much of their previous encounter, except for the tip of a pen in her backpack painfully poking into her back. She winces.
 

"What were you doing outside the headmaster's office, hmm?" Wendy leans in and from the corner of her eye, Irene takes note of the girl's appearance fully.
 

She had foregone her grey hoodie for a rock band tank top that reaches just above her knees and black jeans tucked nicely into black leather ankle boots. And Irene tries her hardest, her very absolute best and swears on her precious ironing board, that she will restrain herself from ogling at the girl's armpits.
 

Flawless, smooth armpits.
 

She sees in her mind, a little voice questioning her, No, of all the things you could possibly focus on, you look at that? Really, Joohyun?
 

Not to mention that the girl is not just a vandal, but quite possibly a kidnapper too. Great day so far.
 

"Please don't tell me you're counting something again." Wendy asks with an eyebrow raised knowingly.
 

Irene shakes her head immediately. She isn’t going to say that there are five studs on each boot. Or the three leather bracelets on one arm. Not even going to mention the little threads peeking out from underneath the shirt–
 

"Now I need you to stay quiet." Wendy calmly asserts, slowly removing her hand from Irene's mouth and letting it drop to her side. "I don't want you to-"
 

Her mind shifts into overdrive and she forcefully shoves Wendy away with all the strength she can muster, not caring one bit when she lands on her on the floor.
 

But her jelly legs betray her, as she blundered and her limbs give way when she just about putting her legs into motion. Irene spectacularly face-plants onto the marble floor, an arm awkwardly trapped between her stomach and the floor while her legs are sprawled behind her.
 

Bad enough that her hand-eye coordination . Supposedly the consciousness lags 80 milliseconds behind actual events and Irene believes hers possibly lags way more than that.
 

"Well, that's some pain in the . Literally." Irene squeezes her eyes shut when footsteps stop right next to her head. She can't bear the embarrassment, it's too much... too much...
 

"I don't want you to make a fool of yourself." Wendy continues in her matter-of-fact tone, as if she had not just been interrupted. "But I must say, you put on quite a show just nicely."
 

Oh, floor you're so nice and cooling. I'll stay here, all curled up and maybe she’ll leave me alone-
 

"Hey...is she alright?" Irene hears a student passing by asking as she continues to lie motionless.
 

"Oh she's fine." says Wendy casually, "She just got confused between Newton’s Law and Murphy’s Law."
 

Irene knows she’s turning red in the face.
 

"Um.. right." The guy quickly shuffles away, far away. No come back! Help me!
 

Wendy clears and uses her boot to nudge Irene in the side, "Now are you going to get up or do you need me to get some apples to test out gravity too?"
 

Irene whimpers in defeat.
 

Damn her armpits.
 

Damn that breath.
 

Damn those brown eyes.
 

If anyone had told her a year ago, that she would be eating authentic American pancakes for lunch with someone she only met twice before in the most weirdest of circumstances, Irene would have laughed and asked the person to get their head checked.
 

Now, Irene is sure she needs her head checked instead.
 

She stares down at the foamy beverage. Her mind is still