Chasing Happiness Part 1

“What is the one thing you want in life?” Mr Ruggan paused for dramatic effect, slowly meeting the eyes of every single student in his Social Studies class.

He slapped his palms together, the snap made Celeste Hemma’s spine stiffen to attention.

“Now, I want everyone to draw a picture of what you most want in life. I’ll give you a couple of minutes.” Mr Ruggan’s deep voice resonated throughout the room.

Five years ago, when she was thirteen, Celeste would’ve drawn a picture of her mum and dad looking at each other with eyes only for each other. But there was no point looking backward. There was absolutely no chance they’d get back together; their divorce was iron clad.

She stared at the blank page.

Mr Ruggan’s voice echoed, “C’mon guys, your time’s up.”

She put her Pictionary skills to the test and two seconds later her drawing was done.

“Everyone, take your drawings and hold them up above your heads,” he said.

The papers rustled, while everyone stared at each other’s masterpieces.

To Celeste’s amazement her classmate’s drawings were identical to her own. They had all drawn a smiley face emoji.

The one thing everyone wanted was to be happy.

***

At midday the bell for lunch rang in its trademark, worn out fashion. It’s last buzzes petering off in a dying rasp. Either the bell needed replacing or the wiring needed to be redone. The school, like dear old Mr Ruggan was falling to bits.

She hoped that none of the teachers could see the rectangular shape of her mobile phone bulging out from her sports shorts. She’d get a detention for sure for not keeping her phone stowed away safely in her locker, if she wasn’t careful.

In the girl’s toilets, Celeste slid her mobile phone from her pocket for a quick peek at her Instagram account. So far 136 likes on her photo #RunForLife. She’d roped in her sister to take the shot of her looking determined, while she ran against the wind, so her blonde hair would sweep away from her face in the most flattering manner.

She scrolled through the comments feed. What could give her a dopamine rush to rival a good 30-minute cross country run? It was the ‘like’ and the comment from Blake Noydes, the coolest guy—at least she thought so—in year 12.

He’d written, “Run, girl, run.” Not the wittiest of comments, but Celeste didn’t care, Blake’s comment made her happy.

***

At lunch time she sat with the most popular girls in her year. She was surprised that they had accepted her, because in her previous school she was with the ‘B’ crowd.

She took some pride in that the transfer had meant an upgrade in her social status.

Celeste planted herself on the grass beside Tessa, shaded by a massive gum tree. The rest of the gang were already huddled in a tight circle.

While she ate the cheese sandwich she’d exchanged with Tessa for her sultana grapes and a slightly bruised banana, Celeste quietly pinched a small dark bit of bark off the ground.

She tossed it onto Tessa’s lap.

“Watch out, it’s a roach,” Celeste warned.

Tessa screeched as she leapt in the air, frantically swatting the “cockroach” off herself and clearing what food was on her lap. The grapes bounced and rolled on the ground. The banana lay pathetically, a little more bruised than it was before.

Everyone laughed.

Tessa’s eyes narrowed accusingly at Celeste. “Haha, very funny,” she said.

Thud.

Celeste felt a dull ache as Tessa’s foot connected with hers in a swift kick.

Celeste didn’t flinch.

Tessa was her best friend. There was no need for anything to escalate into a full blown cat fight.

***

By the last class of the day, Celeste was concentrating on writing her signature in the margin of her physics textbook.

It was far more interesting than the formulas for centripetal force that Mr Frangello was writing on the board.

Celeste Hemma in fancy curlicues.

Celeste Noydes, she scribbled, for when she married Blake.

Celeste Hemma—Noydes in smaller cursive, because some women liked the look of their maiden name with their married one.

She giggled out loud.

Mr Frangello turned from the board and pushed his glasses further up his nose with his index finger. “Care to tell the rest of the class, Miss Hemma, what you find so amusing?”

“No sir,” she squeaked.

Celeste’s eyes landed back on the margin of her physics textbook.

The Celeste Hemma—Noydes signature teased her. It sounded too much like Celeste Hemorrhoids. She stuffed the next laugh slowing rising from her throat, till tears formed in her eyes.

The name Celeste meant “Heavenly” in French. Heavenly Hemorrhoids.

Grateful for the anaemic rasp of the school bell, the entire class streamed their way out of the science lab.

As she dawdled to the locker area, she was ambushed from behind. She copped an elbow in the back. Her books and pencil case landed at her feet.

“Sorry Cel, I didn’t see you there,” Jack said, as he knelt down to pick up her books. “Cool shoes.”

All six foot three of him unfurled like a giant insect as he handed back her things. “Catch you later,” he said, holding her in his gaze for a moment, before raising a brow mischievously.

Was Jack—The Jack Monroe—Captain of their BasketBall Team, flirting with her?

Her happiness levels were soaring off the scale. First Blake and now Jack was paying her attention.

“I was going for a casual ironic look,” Celeste replied.

“Cool.” And he dashed away in long strides toward the locker area.

***

Sitting in the driver’s seat of her mother’s Mazda 2 which had clocked over 300000 kilometers, Celeste glanced down at her cheap white sneakers. They had a Nike tick on the left shoe and three Adidas stripes on the other which she had drawn on with a black sharpie pen.

“Something up, Celly?” her mother asked. “Don’t forget to put the handbrake down.”

“Yes, mum.” Celly tried her best not to sound weary. She’d be going for her Provisional driver’s license in a week. Yay.

She wouldn’t miss her mum dictating to her how far to turn the steering wheel, when to indicate, and everything else she already knew how to do.

She wouldn’t miss her mother blurting out loud in the middle of a driving session, “Oh, Lord Jesus, help Celly to drive carefully, and protect all the other drivers on the road as well.”

To pray at the start of a drive, Celeste could understand, but half way in? Way to undermine and express your lack of confidence in your daughter’s driving abilities, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue.

As Celeste drove towards Westfield Shopping Centre, she thought about which section of her book shelf she’d have to clear to make room for the cross country trophy she was certain to win for her age group.

Her face split a grin involuntarily. And buying a new pair of branded shoes this afternoon would guarantee a victory.

She’d keep wearing her current ones for school since Jack noticed them, and save her proper shoes for her races.

Celeste pulled into a parking spot right in front of an entrance to the shops. Perhaps she could convince her mum for some new lipsticks as well, both Sephora and Mecca were advertising special promotional offers for the month.

Life was just getting better and better.

Celeste couldn’t be happier.

***

Join me next week for Chasing Happiness Part 2