The cute woman remains by the side of the group, staring at me with concern. No one has ever cared about a statue and looked at me like that.
Maybe I should have helped her with her luggage. That small box of stuff is easy to handle. She can’t weigh a ton either.
But she would be scared and... Maybe it would be far-fetched to hope that she’d stop the rest of the students.
I don’t remember who started this “climb the gargoyle” or this “let’s spray cream on the gargoyle so the ants will haunt him” thing. But... Messing with me has become a tradition for students new to the college.
Another person climbs onto my shoulder. The ones on the ground take photos and laugh. I suppose they are enjoying their time, but I’d be happier if it didn’t involve me.
Ouch... One of the dumbasses stomps on my knee... Someone should teach them to treat me with kindness.
They keep laughing and shoving one another. Students are bad, drunk ones are worse.
The cream on my face tickles. I’m not a piece of cake. Why do they feel the need to do that?
Except the students shout for each other to take turns on me... I just want peace.
“Laura, It’s your turn.” One of the boys, who may be the leader of this group, waves to the cute woman to the side.
Her eyes widen. “Me?”
“Yes, take a photo with us.” He points at me.
Is she going to climb the gargoyle?
She goes to the base of the statue and puts her hand on my thigh. “Like this?”
“Do something more!”
She stares at me. My heart beat races as I wait for what she has in store for me. I hope it won’t be too bad. There were others going hard on my wings, as if they wanted to tear them off me.
She climbs onto the base where I stand, grabs my wing, and pokes my cheek. “Better?”
Maybe not all students are that creative when it comes to messing with the gargoyle.
The crowd boos at her. She rolls her eyes. “Fine...” She watches me again and mouths a sorry.
I get that. It won’t be easy to do nothing when everyone wants some “fun.”
She mouths a sorry as she puts her arm behind my back and grabs both of my wings. Her small hands don’t hurt compared to those who try to tear at my wings.
One would think she’s silly for feeling sorry over poking fun at a statue anyway.
But I like her.
The crowd cheers and takes a few photos before it’s another person’s round.
It’s such torture when most of their touches tickle, but I have to remain still. I silently chant my spell, putting most of my body back into pieces of stone, shutting down my senses.
It will be easier to remain still when I lock up my ability to move.
One year, some guys decided that tickling me was their game, so... It was better than tearing my wings, yet... Humans aren’t supposed to know that I live. It would be hilariously bad for me if I laughed.
The woman, Laura, heads back to the sideline as she watches me trying to survive another year of craziness.
This is such a night...
Chapter 4