Horrifiedly, I stormed inside my room and had a quick look at myself in the mirror hanging near the door as I was passing by the small living room onto my bed. I left all the groceries I bought on the ground, let myself collapse comfortably on the white sheet, and checked if I was still alive. And I am very much alive, considering how my heart was thumping so hard.
"Haa... Is that the reason why the school told us not to lurk at night?"
I was gradually calming down when all of a sudden I heard three loud bangs on my door. The inner me who was startled had me immediately surge from the bed, and the fear once again shrouded my mind. Before I checked on my door, I grabbed anything I could find as a weapon and headed towards the doorway.
On my way, the earlier sounds I heard back in the mini-park rang inside my head, filling my mind with sheer fear, but still, I found the resolve to open the door without checking who it was through the peephole.
"Ahhh!!!"
I raised the thing I, holding it with both hands, screamingly swung down to whoever was standing in front of my door and opened my eyes after I heard an 'ow' guttural sound.
"What's your problem?!"
A familiar voice I heard once echoed in my ears as I opened my eyes. It was a classmate of mine, one I instantly remember.
"Damn, it hurts!"
I just realized I picked up a hammer I bought from the hardware store. Embarrassed by my actions, I immediately hid my hand behind me and helped my classmate stand.
"Oh, I'm very sorry," I apologetically said, sincere in my words. "I just freaked out and unconsciously grabbed a hammer. Sorry..."
Standing alone would be quite difficult for my classmate since he is a bit overweight, weighing around 80 kilograms, height is about... 5 foot 4 inches, about 162.5 centimeters, wearing an oversized shirt, and stretchable jogger pants. I noticed him earlier, sitting alone in the other row, same as mine, at the far end of the seats in the back.
His name is Ira Marley Buenaventura. Although he doesn't seem to have difficulty speaking, I could say that he is the same as me, a bullied person who struggled with abuse and somehow made it through our tough high school life.
"Your hand is swollen! Let me treat it for you. I have first aid kits inside."
Ira must have used his arm to block the hammer, which caused his
forearm to get injured. I helped him stand up, offering a helping hand, and asked him to come inside to have his hand treated, but he stopped me, forcing an 'I am fine' expression on his face.
"You don't have to," he said. No hint of pain could be heard in his voice.
"Curfew is right around the corner, so I need to get back to my room and avoid losing 500 points."
"Oh o-okay, if you say so. But is there anything I can do for you? Consider it as a treat for smashing your hand."
The fear in me had disappeared after knowing that it was a classmate banging on my door, but why is Ira knocking loudly on my door?
"Here," Ira spoke, handing me my phone, which I did not even notice that fell when I was in the main door, fumbling on my pocket for my phone.
"You dropped it. I picked it up and headed to your room to give it back. I didn't even think I would get bludgeoned for delivering a lost phone."
"My apologies. How about this? I will treat you to lunch tomorrow. Does that sound good to you?"
Suddenly, Ira's face enlivened after what I said. I am sure I wasn't supposed to see it, but I caught him forming a quick grin on his mouth, or I am just imagining things.
"Then I'd see you tomorrow! Ready your points 'cause I am gonna eat my fill!"
Did I just... make a mistake? I think I did...
***
A week had passed after that incident, and I think I have gained a friend, or I am just the one thinking that we are friends. I treated Ira on lunch tomorrow after I smashed his hand with a hammer, and the glutton ordered lots of different dishes available on the menu in the cafeteria.
Culinary arts students began taking over the kitchen of the cafeteria, dominating other students with their delectable dishes. Cooking in the cafeteria also serves as a part of their training, which a large part of their grades will come from. Well, another reason why it's them cooking is that there are no school cafeteria kinds of stuff to cook for the students.
Even the nurse room has nursing students taking duties.
One week was enough for students to provide the bare minimum of their courses. It is us students who do all the work in the school. A student would randomly receive a message from the school, saying you're assigned to clean the restroom of the boys but rest assured, it will come with other students also assigned to clean, so you won't be alone, and by doing these assigned tasks, one gains points, depending on the work they do. It's like side quests.
So far, I haven't received any of these so-called tasks and am quite enjoying my college life. Right now, I am in the cafeteria. It is crowded as always, not just because of its scrumptious meals but also because of the beauties of the culinary arts section.
"Should we go to the other cafeteria? Or just by bento boxes for lunch? I doubt we will be able to eat, considering the number of students here."
I am not exaggerating when I say students are standing while others sit down on the chairs, already reserved the seats for their friends and classmates. Everyone's eager to have vacant seats, so they can order and eat. Some even become smart, ordering food, then going out with their tray of food, then eating on benches and free tables under the sunlight, but then again rest assured, for there's a shade in the middle of these tables!
"Yeah, let's just go to the other cafeteria, though it is a shame being unable to Mirasol's cooking!"
Mirasol is one of the pretty faces of the culinary arts section, and I think Ira is head over heels on her. But if I were to compare her to Miss Cristina, I'd say, in my opinion, my classmate looks better than Mirasol, although she is a refined and demure woman, which captivates most of the guys in the cafeteria. I am not saying I dislike her or anything, in fact, I can like any girl, anyone. In the first place, who am I to choose among these pretty women serving students their food when I am just a bullied nerd who is aloof and had just recently gained a friend.
"Oh, Mirasol, my love! Forgive me for betraying you! I promise I will come early tomorrow!"
What I found interesting about Ira is that he does not give a care about what other people said about him, even if he is acting weird in front of them, talking to himself, and/or being a creep. He is tough and a cool and fun guy to be with, even we'd just been hanging out for a week.
"That fatso is talking as if he is Marisol's boyfriend. What a creep!"
Girls would find him a creep or a weirdo, and guys would pick on him for being like that, but the strong Ira would not back down. He would stand up for himself and would utter a quote, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!' and just like that, bullies would leave him be. They would just laugh it off and walk away.
"We should probably head out, Ira," I said before he could make another embarrassing line, pulling him out of the cafeteria.
However, it just caused him to loudly shout out his feelings for Marisol,
"My dear Marisol! I will come back to get you out of this place! Just wait for me."
Embarrassed, I quickly left the cafeteria and did not even try to look back to see everyone's reaction to Ira's blatant words.
"Now, that is one delusional pig we just witnessed!"
***
The other cafeteria, in contrast to the cafeteria filled with students, has few students eating lunch. Ira and I went inside to see what kind of dish they cooked for lunch.
On the menu, there is Adobo, Sisig, Pakbet, Bicol Express, and much delish-looking food.
"Have you two chosen what you would like to have?" asked a fellow student in charge of the counter and serving the food.
The student is a guy, scrawny and slightly tall, and has a very deep voice, which surprised Ira and me when he spoke.
~