I Am Not Cruel Girl
That Jacket
...“If I was why? Pity me for being beaten. Your pantes are beaten.”...
...***...
Cafe Mars is the cafe Yara visited this week. The girl got out of her car, her eyes rolling around. Cold air and beautiful scenery immediately invaded his eyes. He walked into the cafe. Still calm despite the many visitors.
This time the girl came here not to seek tranquility, but to seek someone. But in fact the person he was looking for did not appear in his sight. He approached the cashier to ask.
“Mbak, Eliot is there?”
“Eliot?” repeating the girl wearing the white apron, she frowned.
“Yes, barista here. Is there a gak?”
“Mas Eliot? Barista?” the girl asked laughing, producing a frown on Yara's forehead. “Mbak, Mas Eliot is not a barista! He tuh—accused!”
Not yet had his sentence finished, a slightly fat man who had just come straight on his feet, then smiled politely at Yara.
“Eh! Saketlah!” The girl hit the guy on the shoulder. The man immediately glared at the girl, spoke in facial language to hint at something, then changed his expression to smile again at Yara.
“Mbak Yara huh?” tanya who only got the nod, Yara knew the man knew her because Yara often came here. “Search mas Eliot?”
Yara nodded again.
“Mas Eliot the barista was again a few months off, permission no family matters he.”
“Oh, earlier said he wasn't a barista?”
“Ah! Mas Eliot is a barista here, only my next child is a new child, so do not know mas Eliot, hehe!” his laughter was depressed before glaring back at the girl next to him who was feeling resentful towards him.
Yara was silent for a moment. “So he didn't sign in?”
“Iya. Ma'am Yara why nyari? Goods times can I convey to Eliot mas?”
Yara looks pouted. He shook his head. “The number is not?”
For a moment, the man smiled mischievously, looking at him suspiciously. “Hmm, what do you want to ask for Eliot's number? Want a pedekate huh?”
Yara rolled her eyeballs. “Apaan anyway. Is there a gak?”
“The number is Eliot, not mine. I have a lottery nomot, a rummy number, a motor license plate number, which one, Ma'am?”
“Gue is no longer kidding,” said Yara with her upset face.
“Oke, there is a heck but a few weeks this message is not exchanged, like it is busy again, or if not the number is not active, because it often change the number.” The guy with the blemish—which people usually nicknamed Ocong—searching for a number on his phone and then showed it to Yara. “Tuh ‘kan, my message has not been replied. I think change number.”
Yara sighed in resignation. “Ya is that. Thanks.” Then it passed from there.
“Yoi, Ma'am! Equally!” ocong shouted while smiling. “Cantek times the boy,” decadaknya amazed. He pointed his eyes at the girl he had just stepped on his feet.
“Heh, inget! Mas Eliot himself asked, if there is a girl named Yara here, he told me that Mas Eliot is a barista here! Get to work!”
***
Bruk! This is the umpteenth time Yara's shoulder was deliberately nudged by the girls from her Genia gang, but Yara just tried to keep quiet. Genia never made him clash his mouth again, never made fun of him again, but now he just keeps looking for trouble by glancing cynically or nudging his shoulders violently as he passes by.
“Width! Can't get through there?!” yara shouted at Reana who had finished nudging her shoulders. Reana was just indifferent. Then now it was Shefa's turn to pass through it and again push Yara's shoulder with her shoulder. Yara looked at him sharply. “Lo lesbian, huh?! Like me until there is a wide road lo tacked onto me?!”
Everyone immediately glanced at him. Shefa frowning. “Dih najong!”
“Let alone me!” pekik Yara emotion. He stepped his feet quickly so as not to be nudged full of drama by nyai and kurut-surutnya it. The mood is no longer helped.
Yara walked towards the quiet cafeteria. He found the familiar face of a girl sitting there. The plain pretentious girl who everyone is always proud of. Vast. He is unaware of Yara's existence. Yara's forehead wrinkled as she learned of the girl's unnatural expression. Like full of worry with sweat dripping down his forehead.
At first Yara did not care, until at one point when Sekar opened his black bag that had a grumpy tone, and clearly the contents were still unaware of the existence of Yara who was observing him from afar.
A few moments later, a girl came to smile at him. “Lo that sell second jacket yes?” Seemingly nodded. “Ori not drawn?”
“Emm, ori coke.” The girl who came to him gave him red money. I pulled out a pink jacket. Yara looked at the jacket fixedly and widened her eyes in disbelief. His heart was like a whip. The jacket, a pink jacket belonging to Yara that went missing a few months ago, a jacket that made her beaten by her papa.
His hatred for Sekar is now increasingly peaking with the chest up and down. Somehow his instincts are sure if Sekar is the perpetrator who hid his father's letter with the jacket. Also thought by logic, there was no more girl in the house besides her and Sekar, plus the girl's restless expression. He clenched his hand.
Sekar put the jacket into the black crackle quickly gave it to the buyer, afraid that someone saw, but Sekar did not realize Yara had seen it. “Pick yes!” sekar.
Unsuspecting, the buyer nodded and thanked him. That was when Yara stood up from her seat. He went straight to the two girls. He pulled out a bag of plastic with a pink jacket that surprised the buyer.
Yara took the contents out of the plastic, checking the truth of the pink jacket. His eyes warmed when he saw the jacket was his true proven from the graffiti markers in his collar. Yes, there are scribbles there and there is still a typical perfume first. Yara was sure it was hers.
Knowing that, Sekar's heart was like being hit by thousands of waves.
“WHERE DO YOU GET THIS JACKET?!” I don't know why this time he can't control his emotions anymore. His memories returned when his father was angry with him, accusing him of being the worst child in the world, as if he were a monster, remembering his father's cruel gaze. He's not that kind of kid.
The girl who bought the jacket just kept quiet, scared. This coincided with several people entering the cafeteria. Sekar was afraid, could not answer, and tried to rotate the brain so that later people did not think guilty.
“LO! LO DEFINITELY THE ONE THIS MISTRESS, ‘KAN!” Yara was clutching Sekar's hand tightly. Everyone is looking at him now. An idea stuck in Sekar's brain. He pretended to grimace in pain.
I looked at Yara timidly. When no one noticed, his lips whispered so that no one would hear but Yara. “Kalo why me? Pity me for being beaten. You pantes he was beaten,” his teasing shrill that everyone thought it was a cry for mercy on Yara.
Sekar cried, and Yara who heard it burned her emotions. His chest went up and down, staring at Sekar in tears. Plaque! “LACK!” his kelekarannya menambak Sekar.
***
A/N
Heyow, how's this part? Don't forget to comment, or at least vote live pence aja gess! Free ga pay🤧