When I walked around in the park I hear children's squeaky voice as they play at the slide. The birds chirping in the trees before they spread their wings and fly. The murmur of adults, maybe, talking about someone's life or flirting. You can hear them every day but it always varied in tone, loudness, depth, and pitch. I always have a good ear, but I hated it. My parents hated it because I can't enjoy music. I don't gain pleasure from it.

I passed the park and ride a private cab, so I can go to my new school. It is a Musical University that offers exclusive lessons about playing instruments and singing. They also offer bachelor degrees but you have to take them both. It sucks because studying for college is hard yet I have to take those music classes. The university offers a good schedule for taking my bachelor's degree and musical classes, but I have to go to school on Saturdays and Sundays.

My cab arrived at the school. When I entered the campus, there was a banner welcoming the freshmen. There were booths representing every department in the school. The campus was colorful and filled by new students. When I passed the Admission building, I saw a crowd filling a specific booth. I could hear someone is singing and suddenly someone grabs my arm.

"Hey, wanna sing in our booth?" A girl with glasses asked me and pointed me to the booth I saw earlier.

"No.." Before I could reject her she pulls me towards the booth. She brought me on the stage and I see the girl. She radiates with glowing skin and long brown hair. Her height is average, not too tall or short.

The girl with eyeglasses handed me a microphone and I didn't know what to do. The girl tried to tell me to sing any song. I stare at the microphone and the crowd cheer's slowly weaken because I am doing nothing. Guess, I have no choice. I put my bag down and started singing and by the audience's reaction, I can say I am doing good pleasing their ears.

When I looked at the girl she was looking at her watch and suddenly walks off the stage. Leaving me here alone. I decided to pick up my bag but as I try to stand up that girl hit and I fell on the ground. She rushes to the stage to get her bag. She gave me a quick glance and ran away. She didn't apologize or anything. What a rude lass? I hurriedly escaped from the crowd and went to the Psychology building.

There are so many buildings and these walk paths are connecting them all. I can say because I just followed these and I got myself in the Psychology Department from the Admission building. The building is in white gray paint and it is airconditioned. The hallways are filled with lockers, benches, and vending machines. My room is on the fourth floor so I have to take the stairs.

When I reached the room, there are already students sitting on the seats. I looked for an empty seat. I could feel the eyes of my classmates scanning through me. I always wonder what are their real first impressions. Sometimes when you asked new people about you, I always believe they are sugar coating their impressions. I don't blame them, I also do that.

When I looked at the left corner of the room, I saw the girl who bumped at me. This time when you asked me about the first impression, I would not hesitate to tell you that she's ill-mannered. I didn't know why I went in her direction and seat behind her. Maybe I wanted an apology or get back at her?

She saw me sitting behind yet she doesn't care. How can she act as nothing happened? Then a boy seated beside me. He seems friendly because of his smile and he has a fair complexion.

"Hi, can I sit here?" You are already sitting, I thought to myself.

"Yes, I don't own all of the seats." He laughs weakly, and it made me uncomfortable. But I have to be friendly so I chuckled back.

"Haha, you're right. I'm Carl." He offered me his hand. I shake his hand as a sign of greeting.

"Hendrix." I replied.

"I am a little nervous so I tried sitting with you because you looked friendly."

Do I look friendly? Is he being real?

"I'll take that as a compliment, usually people find me weird."

"Friendly people are weird because they usually speak and smile with people they do not know. So introverts or strangers find them weird haha."

Yes, I agree its weird to smile at someone with no reason.

"Not that kind of weird, but "weird" is very subjective. But from what you just have said, I conclude you're weird. I don't look friendly, you're just being friendly with me. "

"Yeah, I lied. You looked far from friendly." I chuckled not because I fake it, but I wanted to. "Haha thanks for saying the truth."

Carl is weird at first but I appreciate his effort of trying to befriend me even I have this cold aura. So we chatted while waiting for the teacher to arrive. He has the common reason why he admitted himself into this school, he liked playing instruments, particularly drums. The teacher arrived late for 5 minutes. She looked clumsy but young.

"Good morning, I am sorry I am late. I'm Miss Patterson and I am your headteacher in Psychology, and I am the one who will be your teacher in the exclusive music classes. You will meet your teacher for other programs listed under psychology later."

Her voice is very professional it is not too pitchy, it's like she is the voice of an airline.

"Today it would be more on orientation and getting to know each other. In four years, all of you would stick together in taking the music classes. "

That sucks I would have to interact with that rude girl for four years.

"Today you need to introduce yourself and share your reasons why you got into this Musical Academy despite having a lot of top universities in our country. Students come here because they want to graduate with a bachelor's degree but at the same time having great opportunities in the music industry. Moreover, share your talent. What instrument do you play or do you specifically sing? We have instruments at the back of the room, feel free to use it in introducing yourself."

We are randomly picked by the teacher. Some play violin, guitar, and drums. Carl played drums pretty normal and he is out of beat sometimes. Some students sing their hearts out; some of them cried and do unnecessary acting. People here are really into music. I need to fake that I am enjoying their presentations and I'm losing my energy. It's like they are sucking my soul out slowly, it's killing me.

"Miss Amy Hazel." Miss Patterson called someone.

The rude girl was called and I gave up. I lie my head in the desk and try to close my eyes. She started singing, she has a nice voice, however, throughout the performance, she misses some notes. Students clapped and that's the end of her performance. I raise my head and look at her. I was surprised she was looking at me with annoyed eyes. She walked and settled at her seat while looking at me like that. She is also weird.

The teacher called my name, and I looked for the piano behind. I am too lazy to bring it in the front so I decided I would just sing. I can distinguish my voice by the pitch, and note that I make. Because I have a good ear I can know whether I sing badly or not.

I started singing "Fly Me to The Moon", it was mom's favorite so I practiced it really hard so she would compliment me. My classmates are just staring at me with blank eyes, am I doing bad? I finish off the song and the Carl clapped really loud. I could tell with his exaggerated movement.

"Mr. Celeste, you have a good voice but you seem dead while singing it." I nod and go back to my seat. It was the first time I heard that I looked dead while I sing.

"Try to smile while singing, use your good face. " Carl patted me and laugh a bit.

The rude girl moves her head towards us. It was the first time I get to look at her face closely. She has green eyes and weirdly I was drawn at her eyes.

"You're a fake." She said to me directly, looking at my eyes.

"Me?" I mumbled, when she spoke those words, I feel uneasy. Does she know me?

"Hey Miss, everybody is fake haha," Carl replied.

"Don't talk to me, weird drummer."

She looked away from us and I started to feel uncomfortable. I know I am faking it but having a stranger telling you're a fake is like slapping your face a hundred times.