Student - February 26, 2015

Mortierstraat 14b - Ball

The story so far: Willem-Jan has been keen on Bianca for some time now. Only thing is, she’s more interested in Filippo.

Bianca sighed as she threw her shoulder bag onto her bed. It had been a tiring day and she was desperate for a cup of chamomile tea. It was only when she went into her room for a second time that she caught sight of something bizarre. Her breath caught in her throat. Half of the wall next to the door had been sprayed blue. Against that background, in huge silver graffiti style letters shone the question ‘BALL?’ For a moment she stood rooted to the spot before uttering a squeal of delight.

Only one person could have done that. Seated at the dining table, Willem-Jan, Derk and Filippo were waiting for the evening meal that Vera had prepared. As Filippo rattled on enthusiastically about a new game he was playing on his recently repaired PlayStation, Bianca snuck slowly into the room and covered his eyes with her hands. In a sultry voice she whispered in his ear, ‘I will. Thanks for asking.’ Perplexed, Filippo looked round, watched in amazement by the others. ‘Um… no problem,’ he said. While he had no idea what she was talking about, he didn’t want to put a damper on Bianca’s good mood; she was so rarely cheerful.

‘Filippo has invited me to go to the grand student ball with him. And you wouldn’t believe how!’ Bianca skipped off towards the kitchen. Filippo was now looking with growing desperation at the other guys. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ A blush had stolen over Willem- Jan’s face and now he was staring straight ahead, wide-eyed and sullen. Excited chatter could now be heard coming from near the cooker.

‘Show me!’ Vera and Bianca stormed out of the kitchen and disappeared in the direction of Bianca’s room. Filippo and Derk followed them. Once in the room, the group stared at the wall. Bianca threw her arms around Filippo’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. He grinned a bit awkwardly. Willem-Jan trudged into the room. Derk glanced at his pale face, drained of all colour. ‘Honestly, mate,’ he whispered. ‘You should have left your name.’


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