#girlmeetsguy

[kokiri-at-the-pack]

0817

August 17

I ran and ran through the hallway. I could not stop even though I could barely breathe. 

For the first time...I was late for school!

Because of what happened last night, I could not sleep properly. My head kept on spinning and my eyes struggled to stay open. That did not sound good. I had to stay awake and maintain my scores. How would teachers think of me? Or my parents if they find out that their daughter is unable to focus on where they think she should succeed? Panic did not stop growing and succumbed me into my nightmare.

...No. Calm down. 

After a deep breath, I managed to mute those thoughts and concentrated on searching for my classroom. At last, when I found the right section, I rushed to open the door. I was met by a room which proved that a long time had passed since the school completed its establishment. The peach painting of the wall, together with the gray one of the floor, were fading away, some parts removed that their places were replaced by dark blue irregular spots which looked like their original shades or possibly molds from lack of regular cleaning. Cubby holes, or I should say, cabinets, contained jackets, bags and random stuff from students that were laid without proper arrangement. Desks, wooden and rough, were not placed in right positions as well, with some out of the rows or columns and few even collapsed onto the floor. The only thing that appeared to be visually attractive was the rectangular blackboard with a sentence “Welcome Grade 10!” written on it with blue, pink and white chalks. Whoever wrote it must have really tried his best to please us. In front of it was a tall female teacher, whom I supposed to be our advisor. Irritated by my late attendance, she gestured to me to settle down. I could also hear her mumbling something about “rude” and “lazy.” 

However, what distracted me from all these settings was a group of fifteen or sixteen students, already establishing their own “best friend” teams. I timidly approached one of the girls introducing each other and thought of a short greeting to introduce myself, but hearing them talking in loud voices and laughters all prevented me from stepping any further. I could not even let my voice out to speak properly to them. Those girls were not like me. They did not seem to be afraid of anything. Even though they were the same human beings, something about them felt like I was the alien in the classroom. When that thought invaded me, I could not help but be sure that they would think myself strange if I spoke a single word to them. If I was different, then however I talk would sound weird to them. Whatever I do would look hilarious to them. Just like my former classmates in middle school back then. If that happens, then I would be isolated...or if worse, become the main target for bullies...and my school life will be ruined.

I could not let that become true, so it was better to be alone and stay silent. This was not surprising. Ever since I was young, I was not fond of making friends. Was it because of my first impression? That I looked unfriendly? Or was it because of my personality? I did not know, but what was certain was that others somehow had a hard time to talk to me. Not a new thing. Shrugging my shoulders, I sat down on an empty seat located in the corner. This was what I wanted anyway. No distraction. No unnecessary relationship. 

The school day was as boring as I had expected. Teachers explained their subjects, the same old announcement welcoming students to a new year and lots of subjects we would not even use when we grow up. Excluding the part where teachers advised us to plan for colleges or think about how to use our abilities in later times, they were all just replicas of my previous school lives. Why does everything get to be decided by such uninteresting exams and the school system?

During those times, I was all alone. I sat alone at the corner of my classroom. I found an empty seat and ate there alone during lunchtime. I took no heed of those who were next to me and took down notes to memorize at home. I bet I felt like an emotionless robot. After several hours, the bell for the dismissal finally rang. Like a bird that just saw a door of its cage open, I quickly packed up my stuff and rushed to where I assumed would be the nearest to the exit of the building. I did not like to stay any longer in a place of noisy, distracting students who would not like someone opposite to them like me. I was a few distance away from the gate when I suddenly felt my body collapsing forward.

PLOP!

Dizziness and headache soon filled my whole consciousness. Everything around me spun around, and I had to shake my head and raise my upper body carefully to see that students were watching me. They were surprised, yet not eager to come to me to help me up. I looked at my feet to notice that I accidentally stumbled on a slippery floor fresh from mopping.

However, what terrified me more was my pieces of paper had all slipped out of my backpack and were scattered on a cold, marble floor. This was a mess. Some of them were notes I should not lose and drawings I wanted to be private. Trying to ignore gossips and whispers from others staring at me, I began to pick up whatever I could catch within my hands, but based on the number and how far the notes are spread on the ground, it was a huge workload for a single person to finish it fast.

I was about to grab the more remote paper when--

“Need help?”

I heard a voice in front of me. Surprised, I saw a hand picking up the paper I was planning to get and handing it back to me. I slowly looked up to see a guy looking at me with concerned eyes. He had coal black hair that was cut short and a light brown skin. His big, hazel eyes, glowing against the light, small, round nose and slightly thick lips caught my attention the most, and they formed an impression in which one might not call him handsome exactly but good-looking at least. He was shorter than the rest of the guys I saw in the school community, but his calm face, posture and polished yellow shirt and jeans implied his personality opposite to playful and clumsy. With a quick nod, I allowed him to join in recollecting all the pieces and putting them into my backpack.

“I think we got all of them.” he sighed in relief.

“...Thanks...but why did you help me?” I asked him.

The guy looked at me in confusion but he managed to retain his smile, “Should there be a reason?”

At first, his reply was not understandable to me. Every action has its own reason. Even the action which may seem friendly, such as making friends or respecting elders, has one: to appear kind to their eyes. The guy continued to speak.

“You must be from a different class, right? Um, how should I call you?”

With a stutter, I uttered my name to the guy, unable to look directly into his eyes. Nevertheless, I heard him chuckling and replying back to me as if there was nothing abnormal. He reached out his hands.

“Call me Steven. Feel free to ask me if you need help.”

I hesitantly raised my hands for a brief handshake and watched him leave. It was right at that moment that I was able to relax again. Every second of conversation felt like hours. 

Too many words! Did I say the right thing? That was so awkward! Why did this happen? Why did he decide to talk to me? Hold on! Why did he choose to help me in the first place?! Did he find something interested in me or--

Suddenly, a memory sparked in my brain. I quickly glanced at the sketch I drew on my notebook last night before I went to sleep. It was a sketch where a girl talks to a guy of her age as a part of the sequel to my story I was writing. Her pose facing him while having a conversation...The appearance of a guy similar to Steven...And...and..this plot was right after he helped the girl gather her stuff after she fell down! This was exactly the situation I was in a few minutes ago. 

That was my ability. This time, it was an “event” that was materialized instead of an “object.”

I had never expected my ability to go this far. Usually, I would fail in turning an entire event real, especially when it comes to peoples’ attitudes towards me. It was something I never thought it would happen in my life, and I was not prepared at all. 

Is this development a good thing? 

Or it must be my sadness at that time that enhanced my ability temporarily. Whenever I became too emotional, I could not control what I would create in my drawings. I was such a fool. There was no way he would genuinely befriend a lame girl like me. Tomorrow, as soon as the effect of my ability wears off, everything will go back to normal, and even that guy, Steven will not mind me anymore.