(15) Ray's Secret

All in all, the day had passed rather uneventfully for Ralph. It was just another average day in a not-so-average high school. The only difference was that Ralph had the echoes of his own voice in his head this time, concerning Jack's time limit to prove himself.

"Two days," he had said.

Why, though? Why two days? Ralph honestly did not know why he chose that particular day, only that it was almost as if someone was whispering said day into his ear. It was rather . . . surreal when one thought about it.

Sighing softly to himself, the teen stored his belongings in his locker and made his way to the cafeteria . . . alone, for Jack had not been there when he arrived.

'Hey,' he said to Ray in a friendly tone, having already forgiven him. 'What's up?'

'The ceiling,' the other said with a smile. 'What's up with you?'

'Oh, nothing much,' Ralph replied. However, a faint blush crept up his cheeks at the memory of his little library escapade with Jack. Turning away in embarrassment, Ralph sat down beside his friend and busied himself for a moment with his lunch bag.

'That adorable blush on your cheeks, like, wouldn't have anything to do with your experiences in the library, would it, mate?' Ray questioned in a would-be innocent voice.

'I . . . I don't know what you're talking about,' Ralph responded quickly; his flush deepened attractively.

'Oh, come on, Ralph! I may not be a know-all mind reader,' Ray said, waving his arms around in a "spooky" fashion, 'but I do know that you do things in the library besides reading.' He coughed fakely and sat back in his chair with an overtly smug grin on his face.

'You saw us?' Ralph hissed in disbelief, not wanting to raise his voice and cause a commotion.

'Aye, m'lord,' Ray replied teasingly.

'Aw, just forget it, Ray,' Ralph said, and he slapped the other teen lightly on the shoulder. 'It was only a kiss, after all.'

'"Only" a kiss?' the Aussie echoed. 'Ralph, that was not "only" a kiss. "Only" a kiss would be kissing the top of a new car. You looked like you were trying to swallow his tongue.'

If possible, the statement seemed only to further Ralph's embarrassment; his face almost resembled a ripe turnip by now.

'Shut up,' he muttered half-heartedly. 'Not like you haven't done anything like that before.' Though Ralph had not seen any actual proof of Ray's exploits, he knew them to be there.

'Hey, don't bring me into this. We were talking about you, remember?'

Ralph rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Just then, an extremely loud voice was heard, carrying over their conversation as well as many others.

'Hey, dudes! This is JD 1, your student council prime minister, speaking. Boy, do we have a lovely treat for you today!'

Intrigued, Ralph craned his neck to search for the owner of the sudden vocals. He noticed that in the corner, a small platform had been erected, complete with a microphone, some stereos, and a CD player. A tall, long-haired brunet was currently speaking into the mike, making his "grand" announcement.

'Our teacher supervisor, the newly-wedded Mrs. Wynta—'

A quite rowdy applause interrupted his speech and it was obvious that Mrs. Wynta was one of the more favoured persons of the school faculty. Being a twenty-something young woman and all, her flawless beauty was doubtlessly recognized amongst the students she taught . . . er, and then some.

'Ahem, as I was saying,' JD said sternly, trying to recapture his audience's attention, 'Mrs. Wynta has agreed to let the student council host an inter-school karaoke competition—that's competition, not show—to raise money to furnish our soon-to-be-constructed student lounge.'

Whatever conversations had still been going on abruptly stopped and everyone now keenly listened to what their student prime minister had to say.

'Yes, you heard me right, a student lounge!' JD said enthusiastically. 'This competition is only the beginning. Unfortunately, it costs a lot to furnish a lounge, so we need everybody's participation to help raise money!'

There was a polite scattering of applause, and JD happily continued.

'We have lots of time to do whatever needs to be done. Heck, we could even use some of your ideas on how to raise money. This lounge is a place all students can just sit around and hang out in. You can even sneak some girls in there, if you're careful.' He suddenly paled and people realized that he must have caught sight of Mr. Lyori lingering about in the corner, for he hastily added, 'Ha, just kidding, professor . . . Er, does anyone have any questions?'

'When will the lounge be ready?' someone called out.

'Not until next April.'

Numerous "boos" followed this announcement.

Keeping his cool, JD added, 'But it can be ready sooner if we contribute enough finances towards it.'

'How much will it cost?'

'A lot! Anymore questions?'

'Can we have a fashion show?'

'Um, sure! Fashion shows, talent shows, burping contests, whatever you want!' JD responded. 'Just talk to one of us student council members and we'll see what we can do. And other than the FUN times that you guys will have competing against each other, there are also some other benefits for you.'

'What do you mean?' Ralph asked loudly.

'Well, today's competition, for example, people can bet on who they think will win. Then the winner will receive all the money that was betted on him.' He smiled. 'Also, those of you who betted correctly will have your tickets entered into a raffle. It's a dollar for every ticket, so your chances are obviously improved if you invest more money. That means you guys had better participate. The more money you put into this thing, the more chances you have of winning.'

Ralph groaned. He had had enough "betting" to last him twelve lifetimes!

'But isn't that gambling?" somebody questioned.

'Mrs. Wynta caught that, too, and I am now going to tell you what I told her—it's not really gambling if it's for a school fundraiser.'

'How much can we bet up to?' one of the juniors inquired.

'Only five bucks 2,' JD replied. 'The majority of students at our school—well, actually, all of us—are not of legal age to gamble, and five bucks is a small enough amount not to commit suicide over or something.' He loosened his collar nervously, apparently aware of Mr. Lyori's probing gaze. 'You can place your bets at the end of the lunch period. Members of the student council will record your name and amount, just in case some of you want to cheat.' He winked.

'What are the prizes?'

'You know, the usual: movie tickets, books, a TV, some other stuff. You'll have to see for yourself . . . So, if there aren't any other questions, let the competition begin! Now to introduce your host . . . me!' He suddenly started giggling. 'Nah, just kidding. Your real host is Mrs. Wynta. Let's all give her a rowdy round of applause.'

It sound like a bomb had exploded inside the cafeteria. Everyone had practically jumped out of his seat with an overly stimulated rapture.

'Thank you, thank you,' Mrs. Wynta said modestly. 'Now, I know that this is the boring part, but it will pass soon enough. I am now going to tell you the rules.'

An almost unified groan swept the room, and the teacher smiled amusedly.

'Well, firstly, anyone can enter this contest. Just choose a song from the list Greg, the deputy prime minister, is holding—' She indicated the spectacled redhead standing just to the right of the makeshift stage, '—and sing your heart out. Unfortunately, we have to use the list because some of our more . . . zealous gentlemen have a tendency to choose vulgar songs that are inappropriate for school.' She cleared her throat. 'Secondly, it is not tolerable to change the lyrics in place of one's own. I know that some of you enjoy being creative, but a ­karaoke competition is not really the place to do so, especially since you are being "graded" upon by your fellow students. Thirdly, though this is unnecessary to say to such fine gentlemen, act appropriately. You may dance and such to entertain your friends, but over-exposed sensuality will be one of the first things that will disqualify you. So, does anyone have any questions?'

'Can you only enter once?' somebody asked.

Some people in the audience snickered. The question was so ludicrous! Ha, can you only enter once . . . However, the answer was even more so.

'No,' the professor replied. 'I want to encourage people to enter as many times as they'd like so as to raise money for your lounge. You students need a place to relax at lunchtimes and after school, and participating in school-related activities can enliven your school spirit. I see no problem with entering this contest numerous times. Any other questions?'

Silence.

'Good. Then let's have our first competitor.'

A tense silence continued, for no one dared to get up and sing in front of everybody. Sure, it would just be for fun, but pride held the students back . . . pride and the growing fear of making complete fools out of themselves.

'Anyone?' Mrs. Wynta asked almost desperately. 'It's just a silly competition. No one will think any less of you if you don't win.'

'I'll go!' someone suddenly said.

All eyes turned to the brave student, and Ralph was rather shocked to see that it was Jack.

"Actually, I shouldn't be so surprised. After all, Jack was the head of the choir back in our old school, and he does love being the centre of attention," he reasoned. "No, I shouldn't be surprised at all."

'Very good, Mr. Merridew!' Mrs. Wynta exclaimed, clapping her hands with joy. 'Now, tell Greg what song you want and he'll give the order to the audio-visual team to play it.'

Eager to see Jack perform, Ralph abandoned his lunch and inched his way closer to the platform. He heard Jack ask Greg something; he was likely requesting a song.

'That's a pretty old song. I don't think I have it,' Greg murmured, flipping through his list. 'Oh wait, yeah, we got it.' He waved to the person standing by the CD player (the makeshift DJ) to catch his attention. 'Play number 6 on disc 5,' he said, and the latter nodded in understanding.

Breathing deeply, Ralph watched as Jack took his place at the centre of the stage and brought the microphone closer to his lips. The first chord of the song struck and Jack's beautiful baritone voice soon followed. Ralph felt as if the rest of the world had fallen away. Now, there was only he and Jack. Their eyes locked, and he knew . . . he just knew that Jack was singing that song just for him. His eyes told him so.

'"Baby, you're all that I want

When you're lying here in my arms

I'm finding it hard to believe

We're in heaven

Love is all that I need

And I found it there in your heart

It isn't too hard to see

We're in heaven" . . .' 3

Jack strung out the last note amidst a burst of applause, as well as a few playful mocks as well.

'That's it, Merridew? You suck!'

'Get off the stage!'

'My dog can sing better than you can!'

Ralph turned around and he was not at all surprised to see that the jeers were coming from none other than Jack's best friends.

'BOO!' John was yelling through cupped hands.

Jack stuck his tongue out, wanting to keep himself in check while the teachers' gazes were still upon him.

'Thank you very much for that wonderful performance, Jack,' Mrs. Wynta said, stepping back onto the stage. 'That was very well done indeed.' She laid a delicate hand on Jack's shoulder and gently indicated that for him to leave the stage. 'Now . . . do any other brave gentlemen think they can compete with that?'

Suddenly, a whole hoard of students fought their way towards Greg (including Ralph's former pursuer—Eddy), all of them wanting to prove that he was better than Jack were. The latter's only talents were believed to be in bed, so surely one of them could beat him. He was merely the school slut, after all.

"Ha, how wrong they are," Ralph thought. "If only they knew the person he was before that fucking island incident . . . Head boy, leader of the choir, straight-A student . . . Sigh. What the hell happened to that boy?"

"That boy became a man," his less-than-sane mind contested. "And that man is now within your grasp, if only you can find the courage to reach out to him and give him a chance."

The logical side of Ralph's brain remained silent, confirming the desires of his heart.

'Things weren't meant to be this way,' he muttered to himself.

'What was that, mate?' Ray asked, abruptly appearing.

Ralph's eyes bugged out slightly in shock.

'Don't sneak up on me like that,' he said irritably. 'It's . . . sneaky, and I don't like sneaky.'

'Sorry, Ralph . . . Anyway, that was some performance, eh? I, like, didn't know that Jack could sing.'

'There's a lot about him you don't know,' Ralph replied automatically.

'Is that so? Well, that's some voice. Really beautiful, it is, eh? With the way it sounds when he talks and stuff, like, you wouldn't think it could sound so lovely when he sings. Just like that Aiken fellow on American Idol.' 4

'I guess.' Ralph shrugged, not knowing who the hell Aidan . . . Ailen . . . Ache . . . what's-his-name was. 'It's not too surprising to me though, Ray. I've heard him before. He used to be the leader of the choir at our old school.'

'Is that so?'

Ralph nodded.

'All right, people, we are ready for our next contestant,' Mrs. Wynta said, unwittingly interrupting their conversation. 'Give it up for Allan Erllens!'

'Er . . . Hi, everybody,' Allan said nervously, loosening his collar. 'Um, I'm going to sing to you the song—'

Already bored out of his mind, Ralph tuned Allan out and turned his gaze towards the object of his affection. Argh! Now that Jack had already performed, Ralph couldn't wait for this stupid competition to end.

-

'He's staring at you,' John said the moment Jack returned to their table.

'I know,' Jack replied calmly.

'So what are you going to do about it?' Lee asked. 'Not losing your nerve, are you, bud?'

'Of course not,' the teen responded none-too-confidently. He just hoped his friends wouldn't notice. However, the looks on John-the-brains and Fred-the-human-sensor told him otherwise. Sighing inwardly, he excused himself and made for the exit.

'Wait, Jack!' Fred called after him, but he simply ignored his friend and continued on. Unfortunately, he was stopped not long afterwards by a certain Aussie who only had a handful of macaroni for brains. In Jack's opinion, his striking good looks more than made up for it, however.

The mentioned teen was, of course, Ray.

'How is it that you always manage to appear at the worst of times?' Jack questioned angrily.

'It's a talent,' Ray said, shrugging.

'Well, your "talent" is not wanted right now, Ray. Get out of my way.' Jack tried to step around the other teen, but—as usual—Ray simply blocked his way again.

'I need to tell you something, Jack. It's something that will help you win.'

'I don't want to win the bet anymore,' Jack said softly, avoiding his companion's gaze.

'Who said anything about the bet?'

The former narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

'What else would you be talking about?'

'The "grand prize"!' Ray exclaimed.

'Which is . . .?'

'Ralph, of course.'

'Ralph!'

'Yes, savvy? The bet has been over long ago, but its prize is still not owned by anyone. "So," I decided, "why not help Jack obtain the prize, the prize which he should have rightfully had from the start?"'

'From the start? What the hell are you talking in riddles for, Ray? You don't even know who the fuck I am or what I've been through.'

'On the contrary, friend. I know everything.'

'Jack! Hey, Jack!' John inquired, coming up behind his friend.

'Yeah?' Jack asked, whipping around in time to see Fred closely pursuing the Brain.

'Why did you leave like that? Where were you going?'

'Well, I was just going to leave the caf., but I was ambushed on the way,' Jack replied; he turned around to face Ray once more. 'Now, Ray, what the hell did you mean by "you know everything"?'

'Er . . . Jack, who are you talking to?' John asked, placing a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder.

'Huh? I'm talking to Ray,' Jack explained.

'Where?'

'Right there!'

'Uh, there's no one there, bud,' Fred said. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine. It's you guys who aren't!' Jack exclaimed. 'Look! Use your friggin' eyes! Ray is standing right there!' He pointed at the Aussie, who was now over-enthusiastically jumping up and down.

'All I see is us, Jack,' John said. 'You're pointing at our reflection in that small window on the door.'

'Wha?' Jack looked again, yet he still saw Ray, who was now testing the laws of gravity by doing a one-handed handstand.

What the hell was going on? Were John and Fred just playing a stupid prank on him or were they for real? Though the real question was: Is Ray for real?

"Fuck, maybe I'm getting schizophrenia or something," Jack thought, brutally shaking his head. "But that can't be right, Ralph can see Ray, too. What the fuck is going on?'

As if in answer to Jack's question, Ray stopped jumping long enough to say, 'You see, I know everything about you, yet . . . you know as little about me as the dirt under my fingernails, and that measurement is very miniscule. Believe me, I know, I just got a manicure.'

Jack glared apprehensively at the phantom-like creature in front of him.

'Who the hell are you?' Jack demanded.

Ray smiled in a rather creepy way.

'I'm whoever you want me to be, Merridew.'