[September 12]
I awake, dry throated with the feeling of dried saliva on my left cheeks, and the paper I wrote the poem on crumpled beneath my body.
I wash my face and do my usual routine. I have to get used to waking up early now that classes have started.
Would those three absents show up today? I'd like to meet them. But do I really want to though? Maybe they're delinquents. Though again, it did seem like they have a valid reason as Sir George didn't seem to mind that much.
By the way, even I seem to not realize that whenever I'm deep in thought, or having a so called inner-monologue, time doesn't stop. It still goes on but it feels like I'm in a trance, just letting my body go full automatic. As I'm explaining this to myself, I'm already at the taking a cold shower in my routine. Also, why do I explain it to myself using this narrative, "by the way.."? it seems weird, but I notice I do do it from time to time.
What intrigues me as well is how I didn't snap back even though I was staring at my reflection as I brushed my teeth earlier. This could pose quite a problem in the future. But what problem would arise from me being in deep thoughts though? The more I ask the farther down the rabbit hole I go, and in a moments notice, I'm here, drying myself.
"Agh!" I exclaimed in annoyance.
It's not usually like this. Maybe the sudden burst stimulation from being back outside is messing with my mind. Well, it's not as if it's not messed up already.
An array of clapping hands plays inside my head to praise myself for putting myself down.
"Man, if only there was a way to skip time and just teleport to class." I wished to whoever is up in the sky, but of course, one could only dream. The routine of preparing and going to classes is undeniably mundane, yet it is part of everyday life and I can not escape it, nor do I want to. I have some business at class when I arrive.
After a painstakingly long monologue with myself, I finally leave for class. Walking by the sidewalk comes things I didn't notice yesterday. The number of homeless people seems to have increased.
I feel quite bad for them, but being generally honest, hand to God, they stink. I wish they'd realize this and just form a line to a cliff and off themselv— woah, woah there! That's too much. I don't think that at all. As much as possible I'd love to help them, but until I have a stable job and am no longer dependent on those elder than I, unfortunately I may spare no change for the poor.
A little girl, skin and bones, grime on every crease in her body and lice on her hair, extends her hand and asks for some change.
"Can you spare some change, sir? It's just for me and my mother to buy food" She said pleadingly.
"I'm sorry, little miss, It's exact change for the day." I apologized, but deep inside my heart I don't really care at all.
"But... here, take my lunch. Don't mind the lunchbox, you and your mother can have it as well."
I grab the lunch from my bag and surrender it to the little girl. She smiled from ear to ear, revealing her crooked teeth with an unbearable number of cavities and bacteria in them. But they can't help it can they? Who are we to think of them as lesser— but they ar— no they're not. I know they're not.
"Thank you so much mister!" she exclaimed in glee before running to her mother to show the lunchbox.
I'm... I'm not really such a good guy. But she can't read my thoughts, and that's all that matters. She sees me as this kind, and merciful person and not a self-supremacist.
Fully knowing what my thoughts are capable of renders me unable to feel bad for myself. Quite pitiable.
After that whole ordeal, I finally reach my desk in the classroom, a few minutes shy of classes starting. From the journey to the classroom door to my desk, I received quite the number of greetings, which is a sign that the class sees me as a friendly character.
"Marko, do you have change for a ten in ones or fives? The vending machine won't accept my ten, please?" Kenny pleads trying to be all cute but ultimately looks like a creep.
Before I could attempt to rummage through my wallet, Sir George arrives and the class quiets down. He makes an announcement saying that our Math teacher, Miss Honey, will switch time slots with Sir George, our Homeroom teacher.
"Mathematics first thing in the morning, what a way to start the day huh, Kaneki?" I nudged Kenny and whispered to him. He nodded in agreement with a faint worry and confusion in his face.
So, math class immediately started and the first hour of the day is in progress. After math classes, almost all of the class seems to suffer from fatigue due to the heavy barrage of lessons pre-calculus offered. Kenny even more so, as if I recall during our report cards a few years ago, he absolutely sucks at math.
"I think... I think breakfast earlier this morning didn't sit right with me, and pre-calculus seems to have set off the likeliness of me vomiting." Kenny glares at me, face down and lightly sweating.
"I'll come with you to the bathroom." I got up and supported him to the bathroom.
On our way there, we met Sir George.
"Sir, Kenny's not feeling well, I'm taking him to the bathroom."
"Oh, is that so? Accompany him to the clinic if he still feels uncomfortable." Sir George expressed with pure affection and concern, like a good, loving, yet disciplined parent. Quite the man, Sir George, quite the man.
I could hear Kenny's barfing and belching. Then it stops.
"Are you alright? Do you want to rest at the clinic, man?"
"Yeah I'm good, thanks for the concern though."
"But what did you eat to make you vomit like a... dude that's severely addicted to alcohol and on his 12th shot of vodka first thing in the morning?" I amaze myself with the analogy.
"A tuna sandwich I slathered in hot sauce" he pauses to burp
I react to his statement: "That's quite a morning breakfast, SLATHERED in hot sauce?"
"Ugh, yeah, and I'm not really good with spice so... I drank lots of milk. But you know, spicy stuff is delicious, I can't— bleugh, I can't pass up the opportunity!"
The hot sauce Kenny mentions is probably that one that he sent me a picture of a few months ago. I looked it up and it's regarded quite up there with the spicier hot sauces, but a key difference would be how the reviewers describe the "taste", being similar to a spicy chicken sauce.
"But.. slathered?" I asked with full concern, but think to myself what went wrong inside this nitwits' brain to even dare eat that for breakfast on a school day? But of course I will never ask that question. He's a good friend of mine after all.
He belched one last time and got out of the stall. Saying he's alright and he can go back to class. We return and stop by the classroom door. I knock three times and open the door.
"Good day Sir, we apologize for missing your class."
"It's alright, be seated." he gestured us to sit down.
Kenny survived Homeroom, but not long after that, he got up and unlucky he.
Kenny barfed again but forced it to stop by covering his mouth, but only made it worse as the puke went up through his nose.
Some from the class laughed and some were concerned but didn't want to go near Kenny. I felt quite bad but found it amusing as well.
I looked the other way and forced my finger in my mouth, to my throat. I forced myself to vomit as well so he doesn't feel all alone, plus I felt quite pissed at how the class reacted. I'll fake myself getting up and trying to go outside, because what I really want to do is puke all over the classmate in front of me, Andres.
Andres laughed a little too hard at Kenny, so I got up, covering my mouth as to get ready for the second wave of vomit, but oh no! I suddenly felt "dizzy" and pointed my self at his desk.
What a day. Lots of vomit, disgust and chaos.