Don't Just Speak Love

Don’t Just Speak Love

  A YA fiction novel

  Copyright © 2013 by Chalie Teh

  All rights reserved.

  Summary: Eighteen-year-old Averie’s life is turned upside down when she’s instructed by her long-missing mother to enrol in an international college despite her being a local. Soon after, Averie discovers she is a nephilim (part human part angel) and her young life drastically changes from awfully droning to incomprehensibly hectic as she juggles college, bullying, demanding training sessions with a surprisingly fit seventy-year-old, family issues, and the one thing she’s most skeptical of—love.

  First published in Singapore, 2013

  For Z, a pen pal I have never met­, but will always value all the same—Remember the promise I made five years ago? Well, it definitely took me some time, but it’s finally kept now. Thank you for believing in me, my dear friend.

 

  Chapter 1

  The Out-of-the-Ordinary Transfer

  Late. I’d never thought the word would apply to me.

  Sticking my new iPad with retina display into my backpack and slipping my arms into the shoulder straps, I crashed out of my bedroom.

  I couldn’t believe I was already tardy on my first day at Black Gold International College, especially not after I’d been specifically briefed about the importance of punctuality by Mrs. Bernadette, the senior teacher who’d overseen my admission.

  I sighed. I had to hope I’d be let off easier since it was only my first day.

  I was, indisputably, a good student. Teachers always favoured me, because I had zero disciplinary and social issues to my name, alongside a perfect report card. I’d never failed to submit a single assignment on time, and I was never late for school...until today, of course.

  I’d had the most ridiculous yet strangely preoccupying dream last night—something about a weird, horned creature that radiated crimson beams—and hadn’t heard the alarm this morning.

  Passing the cheval mirror next to my bedroom door, I gasped in a sharp breath, exasperated when I glimpsed the state of my bed hair. It was outright awful, and I wasn’t even particularly vain. I made a quick attempt to smooth it, combing my fingers through the disobedient strands randomly before leaving it at that.

  My hair was hopeless without a shower. Nevertheless, I stepped out of my bedroom and locked the door. I didn’t have time to contemplate a shower, let alone take one.

  I scurried toward the staircase leading down to the ground level of my parents’ house—a lovely, perfect, and totally envy-worthy tri-storey terrace along Holland Road, Street Thirteen. At least that was what it seemed on the outside. Near the start of the stairs, I spotted my father's haggard form on the antique marble floor in the living room below. Lying on his side, he was asleep fully dressed—in black shoes, dark trousers, and a white shirt that clearly hadn’t been pressed. But really, what could I expect when he hadn’t even changed in three days? All around him were cigarette butts and empty alcohol bottles. He appeared very drunk, but I wasn’t surprised.

  Ever since my mum left the family seven years ago—leaving behind just a short note telling us not to worry (as if that were possible) and to take care—he’d hardly been sober. I knew my father loved my mum more than anything else in the world, but still, to squander his life like this was beyond irresponsible, and I despised him for being so weak.

  Paying no heed to him, I left the house, slamming the front door on my way out. It didn’t matter how used to it I was, the sight of my drunken father never failed to annoy me.

  I arrived at the main entrance of my new college a half hour later, and Black Gold looked the same as the other time I was here to get my enrolment done. It was still every bit modern, classy, and brand new. The school buildings—matching the uniform—were mainly white and grey, with a dash of colour here and there. Like most places in Singapore, green richness were everywhere, in a riot of nature ranging from lush pastures to buoyant flora to sprightly shrubs to grand, vivacious trees. While a large, open quadrangle took up the middle of the compound, there was a running track that looked no different than the one used in the recent Olympics Games sitting to the left, and off to the extreme right were two chic, lofty flats with breathtaking finishes to them. You would never have guessed those were student hostels, they were simply too extravagant for that.

  Despite being late already, I hesitated to set foot on the unfamiliar campus, uncertainties seizing me. This college wasn’t like any other government schools I’d always gone to, but an international one. Would I be able to handle the schoolwork? Would I make new friends? What would my new school life be like? Yes, Black Gold looked amazing, but that didn’t guarantee I would enjoy my time here.

  Inhaling deeply, I carried on. It was only for a school year. Enjoyable or not, I’d make it through.

  Black Gold International College was a high-tech educational institute located in the south of the island. It provided students with secondary to tertiary education, serving mainly children, aged thirteen to eighteen, of expatriates in Singapore. I was seventeen going on eighteen and, since I’d passed my level’s proficiency test, I would be joining the senior year.

  At my previous school—a local junior college (JC)—I’d been in my final year, working my butt off in preparation for A Levels in November, and now that I was switching colleges midway through the year, I couldn’t help but freaked out somewhat.

  The thing that bothered me most, though: I was a Singaporean. Why would someone born and raised locally end up in an international school in her own country? My mum had better have a good reason for this abrupt and out-of-the-ordinary transfer.

  Yes. My mum.

  The mum that I hadn’t been in contact with for seven years. Three nights ago, I was in the midst of revisions for my March Common Tests when the doorbell rang. When I went to get the door, there was no one outside, only a handwritten note weighed down by a stone:

  Enrol in Black Gold International College ASAP. You’ll meet a man by the name of Albion Demeter Savant. Follow his guidance, and you’ll eventually understand everything. Mum.

  Despite the absurdity of the request, I went on to enrol in Black Gold the next morning. She’d been a wonderful mum—loving and devoted—right up until the day she’d left, so there had got to be a legit reason behind her irresponsible behavior.

  All these years, I’d chosen to believe that. Okay, so maybe I had to believe—it was the only way I could keep going.

  I walked through the gates, only to be stopped by the buffest and oddest security guard. His hairdo was really...unique, and the way he carried himself—how he was constantly speaking in a singsong manner, his numerous hand gestures, and well, pretty much everything about him—was flat-out weird. He was also the youngest security guard I’d ever come across on school grounds or anywhere else. He was, at most, in his thirties. Way too young for this job.

  After I’d signed my name on the latecomers’ list, I whipped out the school map Mrs. Bernadette had given me yesterday and started in the direction of the quadrangle. What happened to students who had their names on that list?

  A black mark? A lecture, maybe?

  Anxiety crawled down my spine, and I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts. There was no need to speculate. After all, I was going to find out, sooner or later.

  By the time I came into the quadrangle, I’d to refer to the map. Thankfully, the classroom block was only next to the quadrangle, so I cut through it and headed up north, peering around nervously the entire time.

  My homeroom class was on the sixth floor, so I scuttled along the hallway of the classroom block in search of a staircase, going past classes that had already begun lessons. Classroom 1A… 1B… It sho
uld have been near—Mrs. Bernadette had mentioned yesterday that staircases were next to class C on every level. Coming up to 1C, I tensed as I took in the figure of a tall and thin white woman in her middle age who also happened to be the last person I wanted to run into right now—Mrs. Bernadette. When I realised she was busy with roll call in 1C, I relaxed slightly. Hoping to stay out of her peripheral vision, I tiptoed past the class as noiselessly as I could manage.

  I was about to round up the corner leading to the staircases—

  “Hold it, Averie.”

  Brilliant.

  I turned around to face the music in no hurry, groaning inwardly the whole time. It was only my first morning here, and this seemingly difficult teacher had already noticed me. 

  C'mon, do things really have to be like this?

  Mrs. Bernadette crossed her arms and, raising an eyebrow, prompted, “Averie?”

  “I can’t find my class,” I said in a tiny voice, hoping—in vain—for the slightest hint of sympathy.

  “That’s no excuse to be late,” she chided, then switched her austere gaze back to 1C. “Asa, do you mind guiding Averie here to her class? You should know the way.”

  An Asian boy with fine raven hair and soft features in an endearing face stood up from the seat closest to the door. “No problem,” he said politely before making his way out of the classroom. Reaching me, he nodded to my right. “Let’s go.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to ask me what class I’m in?” I asked Asa as he took the lead.

  “6C,” he said knowingly as we ascended the stairs.

  I stopped short. It seemed that I already was a celebrity here because of my nationality. “How do you know that?”

  Asa, who looked younger than his age because of his childlike face and pint-sized frame, regarded me with a grim expression—an expression that didn’t sit well on him. “Please do not speak to me unless it’s of absolute necessity. You will get bullied otherwise.”

  I laughed. Who spoke like that? “Enlighten me. I don’t see how talking to a kid like you would get me bullied.”

  “Just don’t talk to me,” he insisted with a straight face. There was no sign of humor in his tone, so I dropped the topic and walked on in silence.

  In the middle of yet another staircase, Asa stopped. “Go up this last flight of stairs, and the first classroom to your left will be 6C.” He turned to leave.

  “Hey!” I called out as he started striding down the staircase. When he glanced up in response, I gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  And he pulled his eyebrows together.

  “What’s wrong?” Was he mad I’d spoken to him when he’d told me not to?

  He turned away and continued down the stairs.

  Okay, this boy definitely was an odd one. Watching in confusion as he went back the way we’d come, I shrugged.

  Let’s just get to class. Swivelling around, I crossed paths with another tall and thin Caucasian. This one was a student, about my age.

  With both hands coolly tucked in his pockets, he glowered down at me.

  “What?” I demanded, the disdain in his emerald green eyes annoying me.

  He, too, ignored me and strolled away indifferently.

  I watched him go with a frown. What was the matter with the boys in this school? Remembering the more pressing matter at hand, I snapped out of my daze and hurried to the classroom on my left. Steeling myself with a long, deep breath, I knocked on the door. Here came the part I was feeling most nervous about: meeting my new classmates.

  The young female teacher inside the class gestured for me to come in so, tentatively, I entered the classroom. Painfully aware of how every pair of eyes was focusing on me, and me only, I clasped my hands tightly together behind my back.

  The teacher, pretty in a pixie cut and a stylish ivory dress, glared at me for a long moment—no joke, no exaggeration, she really did that. “This is your new classmate, Averie,” she then said in a monotone, her eyes still darting daggers in my way. Well, I was no longer looking at her now, but I just knew that—I could feel the hostility in the air around us. “Like Chastity, she’s local.”

  Another Singaporean in my class...that was some news. I needed to find out who Chastity was—I hoped we’d get along—but, more importantly, what was up with this teacher? The way she looked at me…like she wanted to strangle me right then and there.

  “Nice to meet you,” chimed a girl sitting by the window.

  “There’s no need to be friendly, Acacia,” spat the teacher acidly.

  I was starting to get the quivers. Every word coming from this teacher was spoken with malice, and I didn’t even know why she was acting this way. Was I that unlikable? Or was everyone treated the same?

  Despite my anxiety, I smiled back at Acacia appreciatively, staring directly into her beautiful hazel eyes. This girl was gorgeous. She had got the kind of exclusive good looks that revealed her mixed parental heritage—most likely a blend of Asian and European blood—and the air of elegance around her suited her sharp, exquisite facial features perfectly. Coupled with her sweet voice and her tall, slender frame, she could’ve easily been the prettiest classmate I’d ever had.

  In the seat next to her was the surly white guy who’d stared at me in the hallway only minutes ago. Who was he?

  To my dread, the teacher turned her attention back to me. “It’s very nice to meet you, Averie. I’m Ms. Evaline, your homeroom and chemistry teacher. Now, would you please take a seat two rows behind Acacia?”

  I nodded quickly, and Ms. Evaline grinned, looking all devilish and hair-raising. At this point, I could be perfectly sure of one thing: this teacher must be extremely unstable up there.

  With two hands, she held up a thick stack of paper from her desk. “I’m afraid homeroom is over, and we’ve a test to take this morning,” said Ms. Mentally Unstable in a voice so nerve-rackingly sweet, it made my teeth ache.

  And a test? Straight in my first lesson at Black Gold. Which also happened to be taught by a psychotic teacher.

  Great. Absolutely awesome.

  “And please take this.” Ms. Psychotic handed me a sheet of A4 paper using just the tips of her long, bony fingers.

  Seriously?

  What was the matter with her?

  With a straight-out grimace, she said, “It’s your class schedule for the year.”

  Losing no time, I snatched the schedule from her and hustled to my assigned seat, which turned out to be a window seat in the second row from the back. A bit of good luck, finally.

  Usually, I preferred to sit nearer to the front so I could get a clearer view of the whiteboard, but today, I was more than glad to be sitting right at the back. More distance between Ms. Psychotic and me was—without a doubt—a good thing.

  The girl in front of me dumped a test set onto my desk as I sat, and I calmed a little. I recognised most of the questions—Quantitative Analysis, easy as pie—so all the studying I’d done at my last school had paid off after all.

  I’d my test filled up in no time, but stayed quietly in my seat, pretending I was still working hard at it. I didn’t want to get a reputation as a snobby show-off right on day one. And besides, the last thing I needed was further attention from Ms. Psychotic.

  When first period finally ended, Ms. Psychotic made us pass our tests to the front. Getting ready to head to our next classes, everyone started discussing the answers to the test within their circle of friends. Not having any friends, I took out my class schedule and scanned it as I walked out the classroom.

  My next lesson was Mathematics—another tutorial class. Silently, I prayed for it to be as manageable as Chemistry—content-wise, anyway—as I settled down in Mrs. Bernadette’s class. The minute she turned her attention to the class, I sat up straighter to make myself look more attentive. Mrs. Bernadette was obviously a no-nonsense teacher, and besides, I ought to make up for my earlier tardiness. I didn’t want her mistaking me for a sluggish student.

 
Mathematics lasted for an hour, and God bless I sat through it peacefully. Mrs. Bernadette was exactly the way I thought she’d be—strict and completely serious. I didn’t mind, as long as she was reasonable—which she was.

  When lunch break came two classes later, I was immensely relieved the rest of the morning had passed uneventfully. I’d been able to handle all my classes, and the other teachers were nothing like Ms. Psychotic.

  In the corridors, students were strolling noisily to lunch in cliques, and I was about to follow them when Acacia hooked her arm around mine enthusiastically.

  “C’mon,” she said, grinning widely. “Let’s fix that hair before you get lynched.”

  “Er—oh, okay.” Her friendliness took me a little by surprise, but still, I smiled back gratefully. “Thanks.”

  Acacia led me to the girl’s washroom, and I followed meekly, way too glad to have her around. She’d been so nice to me earlier, and it was starting to look like having some good friends here would be the only way I’d make it through the year.

  After my bed hair was sorted out, Acacia gave me a vague introduction to the school layout as we made our way to the cafeteria. “There’s a ladies washroom on every level of every block so finding one shouldn’t be a problem. The computer labs, science labs, and staff offices are in that block.” She pointed to the five-storeys building next to this one. “And the school hall is right above the cafeteria that I’m bringing you to now.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, trying my best to absorb everything.

  After a short walk across the quadrangle, I followed Acacia into the chaos of the cafeteria. Looked like lunch was buffet style. Like the rest of the school, the cafeteria boasted a fantastic, modern design as well. Tastefully decorated walls, shiny laminated flooring, and innovative furniture made up the room. There were plenty of white or dark long benches and tables of different lengths arranged in neat, diagonal lines at the back of the cafeteria, with an S-shaped buffet table in a cool bluish colour occupying the front. Chattering students shuffled in and out of the place constantly, and the tables were full of students in loud, animated conversations. The noise and liveliness here was nothing lesser than the lunch din in my previous college.

  “The food’s nothing fancy,” said Acacia as we got in the lunch queue, “but it’s not bad.”

  It looked pretty fancy to me, actually, but I didn’t want to offend my new friend so I kept my mouth shut.

  When it was our turn, Acacia passed me a plate, and I loaded it up with food, piling on grilled salmon, fruit, an organic yogurt, and a bottle of water. When I was done, I caught up to Acacia, who was already waiting at the end of the buffet line.

  There were only a tiny sandwich and a yogurt drink on Acacia’s plate. I looked at mine and went red with embarrassment. In truth, there wasn’t that much food on my plate, but compared to Acacia’s...it was a lot.

  Acacia herded me toward the tables in the far left corner where a big group of year six students was sitting. Several people waved Acacia over as we got nearer to the group, and I was thankful when they smiled and said hello to me, too.

  “Acacia!” A blond pretty-boy with an average build motioned for Acacia to sit down beside him. “I’ve saved you a seat!”

  Acacia beckoned for me to sit opposite her. “Averie, this is Elliot Wagner. He’s from the US,” she introduced jovially. “Elliot and Jace are both my sidekicks.”

  Elliot laughed and took a bite of his cheeseburger. “I’m honoured to be, milady.”

  From the affectionate way Elliot looked at Acacia, it was obvious he liked her, and I wondered who the other sidekick, Jace, was.

  “Of course,” Acacia flirted back, and several guys wolf whistled.

  I’d skipped breakfast this morning, so I dug into my lunch while the rest of the group teased Acacia and Elliot. They were still on the topic when I started scooping up the last of my lunch. I’d swallowed a few mouthfuls of yogurt when I spotted someone familiar at the door across the cafeteria.

  “Asa?” I rose from the bench, calling out enthusiastically to the boy who’d helped me find my way to class earlier on.

  The chatter in the cafeteria died off at once, and everyone’s gaze fell upon me. Even Asa was looking at me as though I’d made the worst mistake of my life, and for a long moment, nobody said a word.

  Acacia eventually broke the scary silence. “Averie,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “you’re new here so I’ll forgive you this time around, but let me make things clear: nobody in this school speaks to him.” She threw an icy glare in Asa’s direction.

  Okay, Asa wasn’t joking when he’d warned me not to speak to him...

  “Now, sit down, and I’ll let this slide.” From Acacia’s deadly stare, I knew I should just sit down and shut up to avoid landing myself in a sticky situation, but something within me refused.

  I didn’t get it. How could an entire school ostracise a thirteen-year-old boy? Especially one with a face that lovable; it was incomprehensible.

  “But...why?” I found myself asking and regretting just a second later when the contents of an entire bottle of orange juice sloshed into my face.

  Asa leapt in to my rescue while I turned to ice, standing there dumbly. “Don’t do that, Jace!”

  Jace—Acacia’s other sidekick—turned out to be the surly white guy I’d met in the corridor earlier today. Maybe I would’ve still considered being friendly to him despite this morning’s exercise in hostility, but now, it was clear that he was a total jerk.

  “That’s what you get for not knowing your place, newbie,” he said to me in a low whisper, and I almost punched him in the face to enlighten him about his.

  I was actually glad when Asa tugged me away before I did. I certainly didn’t want to get into trouble for something as stupid as fighting on my first day.

  Students stared at us as we exited the cafeteria, but I kept my juice-dripping head held high the entire time, refusing to show any sign of weakness, even though I was completely mortified.

  “I told you not to speak to me, haven’t I?” snapped Asa angrily once we’d left the cafeteria.

  “Why are they bullying you?” I demanded. “Anyway, you’re the one speaking to me now.”

  Asa whipped around and met my eyes, a look of obscurity on his face. “I couldn’t possibly leave you there like that, could I?”

  “Okay, thanks, but you haven’t answered my question.”

  Someone else fell into step with us—an Asian girl with black, straight tresses pulled back into a long ponytail. That rosy, oval face; that dark hair; that slight frame; I’d seen her before, but I was too flustered now to remember where. Maybe back in class just now?

  Turning to Asa, she spoke to him in an unexpectedly kind voice. “I’ll take her to the nurse to get a change of clothes then get her cleaned up.” She looked to me, still smiling. “Don’t worry, you can trust me. I’m Chastity Tan, by the way. You can call me Chaste.”

  Still in a little bit of a daze, I gave a slight nod. So this was Chastity, the other Singaporean Ms. Psychotic had mentioned.

  “Stay away from me from now on,” Asa cut in. “Give them a few weeks, and they’ll forget about this.” Before I could get a word out, he let go off my arm and scooted off in the direction of the classroom block.

  I sighed tiredly. What had I gotten myself into? It was only my first day here, and I already wanted to transfer back to my old school.

  After Chaste got me a fresh uniform and a towel from the infirmary, she steered me toward the nearest girls’ bathroom. Inside, she ran one of the taps and gestured me toward it. As I lowered my head under the running water and waited—trying hard to be patient about it—for the juice to wash out of my thick, shoulder-length hair, Chaste leaned back against the sink next to mine.

  “I used to go to a JC, but sometime in October last year, I was offered a brilliant scholarship to sign up for classes here. That’s how I ended up in Black Gold.”

  “I s
ee.” I took off the little heart-shaped locket around my neck to run it under the tap, rinsing the juice off the gold. I’d had the locket for as long as I could remember, and I’d never taken it off—until today—because my mum had told me not to. It was a precious gift from someone very special to our family, she said.

  “If you don’t mind sharing right, why did you enrol in an international school?” Chaste asked.

  I hesitated. “My mum told me to enrol in this freaking school,” I said eventually, but went no further into the details. I hoped Chaste would pick up that I didn’t want to share anything more than that.

  The sound of water draining echoed loudly in the quietness of the washroom.

  “So...what’s up with Ms. Psy—” I corrected myself swiftly, “Evaline. Is she always nasty or did she happen to be in a foul mood this morning?”

  “Ms. Evaline replaced our previous homeroom teacher. She came one month after me, and I’ve never seen her this irritable until this morning. Don’t take it to heart, Averie. Maybe she had a bad morning so she took it out on you leh?”

  Finally, there’s someone who actually speaks Singlish.

  “Maybe lor,” I replied back in Singlish as I put my locket back on, not knowing what else to say.

  She turned off the tap and, with an earnest smile, wrapped the towel around my hair before passing me the clean uniform. I found myself liking Chaste already; she felt like the sincere and tactful type—the type that would make a wonderful friend and be a great pleasure to get along with. “You’d better change quickly. We don’t want to be late for our next class, do we?”

  Certainly not, so I changed as quickly as I could, all the while steeling myself for Acacia’s wrath, and whatever else the day had in store for me.

  When I was done, Chaste pushed the door open, and I stepped out after her with a heavy heart.

  It was going to be a long year.