My eyes opened to see the cream-yellow ceiling I had grown accustomed to in the last few months. There in the corner right above my bed, I can see the small web of a spider.
I don't like it at all. As long as it is far from me I won't complain but this spider looks small. That means it wasn't born long ago. Where is the mother? In this room? Under my bed? I hate this already. But I don't want to kill it either.
I sigh, "Another day, another problem."
The bed under me creaks as I sit up and fold my sheets. I take a look at my shoulder to make sure the pad I placed on my wound is still in place.
"It is going to take a good three to four days to heal this."
We have a small sports event coming up in our school by the end of this week so I probably should be fine.
All the students of my class live in this hostel. We have been in trouble when it comes to money, so living here saves us most of the cost. The hostels provided by these schools cost much less than the market rate, although the downside is that we have to work part-time jobs to be able to get money for food, clothing, and other accessories.
After I got ready, I headed to the common mess. We do not invest much time in cooking so we have a menu that doesn't take much time for preparation. A few moments after I sat at a table, Taylor entered the mess too.
"I heard you were in a pinch last night," he says, "how're you doing?"
His new haircut looks nice as it brings sharpness to his expression. His gray hair looks nice too. Too bad he cannot show it off to anyone.
"I don't want to ruin this fine morning with this discussion, I'll tell you later," I replied.
"Sure," he says and continues, "I found a couple of hard questions on the integration part, so I thought I'd ask you."
The rest of our time in mess went with me demonstrating the use of product rules to him.
With school during the day and missions at night, it is no surprise that he barely finds enough time to keep up with his studies. Not to mention the occasional jobs we have to do to maintain the money supply.
After breakfast, both of us put on our disguises and headed to school.
"Taylor, you mind if I ask why do you always have a sandwich on your way to school even though you had enough time to eat in the mess?" It was bugging me.
It gives me the impression, 'Oh this guy is so busy!' but trust me...that's not remotely the case. He doesn't put much effort into studies except when it comes to IT. And he doesn't work.
He pushes out a wide grin and says, "it makes me feel better," taking a pause, he continues, "more importantly other people feel worried."
"Impart some knowledge on me, will you?" I request him.
"With my glasses as a disguise, I look quite the nerdy type, don't I?" He says with an expression as if he'd been waiting for a long time to hear that from someone. Just because you wear glasses doesn't mean you're a nerd.
"That's a possibility," I had to humor him to know his logic behind this.
"So, if someone sees me they would think," he makes a dramatic impression in a worried tone as if mimicking some imaginary person, "oh! This guy has been studying way too hard. How am I gonna keep up? I need to study hard too. That."
So by getting an impression of someone else studying way too hard than themselves he hopes to get their spirits down. Keyword 'hopes'.
"Wouldn't this impression of yours get diluted by someone like me hanging out with you without a sandwich?" I tried to present a counterpoint.
Wearing a face that says "oh god! I didn't think of that", he proceeds to take something out of his bag.
"Want a sandwich?" He offers me a solution.
"No," I straight up denied.
While this was going on, I heard footsteps getting increasingly audible from behind me. A moment later I felt a slap on my shoulder followed by pain rushing through it.
"Yo!" A cheerful voice from behind.
"That hurt, Kelan!"
I turned around. Wearing a disguise, his usual brown hair was substituted by black and he had colored contacts too. A creature of short height stood before me.
"I thought that was the correct shoulder to tap on." He says that but he is stifling a laugh. Is he enjoying it?
As his guard was down, I quickly moved to grab his ear and twisted it.
"Ow! Ow! Ow! That hurts, 47!" He cried.
"What did you just say?" His punishment of slapping my shoulder had ended, but since he had made another error, I continued.
"Wha- I mean Eric. I am sorry Eric. Please stop," Kelan said. I released his ear which was crimson now.
"Have a sandwich Kelan," Taylor says, "and tell me how that tastes," he may have said for the taste but his real purpose might be something else. Is Kelan going to fall for it?
No way, right?
He takes the bite and gives Taylor an analyzing glance. "You're a big nerd Taylor."
He fell for it.
* * *
In the hallway, we heard chatter from each of the classes as we passed by them. Towards the end was class 1A to which we belonged. There was a clear drop in the decibel level as the three of us approached. We could faintly hear a couple of girls talking, but that was it.
We opened the door to the class. Nearly 20 pairs of eyes rolled toward us in a second but scattered away in the next few moments. For a normal class, this would be anything but comfortable, but we had seen much worse. They looked at us probably because we entered at the same time. Taylor, Kelan, and I had become friends just a few days back. This fact if not known to others might just have been conveyed here and now.
We took our seats. Silence resumed. The pair of girls at the back started to talk once again. My seat is in the left corner of the class towards the window. Here, I can enjoy the view outside and at the same time keep an eye on others.
A hand waves at me. If not for her disguise I would see those brown hair swept to the left, and blue eyes as calm as a still ocean. Colored contacts and altering hair color is the main part of our disguises in general. I waved back at Ichika.
"Alright everyone, listen to me," said a middle-aged man in his thirties. Despite that, he looks like he could audition for modeling any day with that red hair and eyes like gems. Entering the room now was our homeroom teacher. Due to the atmosphere that this class radiates in general, I feel sad for him who comes to work every day with enthusiasm and sees that very feeling butchered right as he enters the room.
"Today we do not have a morning assembly as the staff is busy with the upcoming sports festival," he said. None of the emotions that I thought should be within him could be seen on his face. What a teacher.
Classes are always the same. Mostly because none of us interact that much with the teacher. And we sure as hell don't interact much within ourselves. Well, except when we have to.
I like books and studying in general, so an environment like this isn't boring for me. The constant grind of the pens with the paper and an occasional chair creaking due to someone shifting in their seat is almost all of the activity here.
I wish all of us could talk to each other more than we do now, and for reasons other than necessary. Once in a while, I can hear whispers from a couple of girls who look like they're bored to death. They might just have made friends by reaching out to someone they found easy to talk to. Just like Kelan reached out to me and Taylor. A message arrives on my mobile. It's from Kelan.
"Look at this chick, bro. She hot af," posted Kelan in an all-boys chat that contained participants from all classes in the first year of the Iven high.
"Yeah. She is a transfer student, from abroad," posted another.
I don't know much about myself, to begin with. It can be said that just like others in this class, I am going through a process to discover my interests. This was not one of them. I felt no need to go crazy over a girl.
Taylor, who I looked at in an attempt to see his response, was hiding a small lego kit under his book and constructing god-knows-what using it.
As the group went on with their opinions and occasional claims of being her boyfriend, as they all had coded names on the chat, I found that Mr. Gary was looking straight at us. This time his smile looked threatening.
"Kelan, would you mind completing this statement I was about to make right now?" He asked him. Kelan made an abrupt movement as if caught off guard by the teacher.
"About what, sir?" Kelan said as he stood from his place.
Mr. Gary pointed to the equations he had written on board. Kelan stood there frozen. He looked at the board but to no avail. Seeing him embarrassing himself was one way to cheer up the day for me.
"Kelan," said the teacher.
"Y-yes?"
"Outside the class. On your knees. Hands in the air," the teacher dispensed this punishment with the same smile he always had.
I couldn't hold it in so I laughed quietly. And I wasn't alone. Kelan received some stifled laughs, some glares pitying his idiocy, and some pissed-off glances as he went out of the room with an embarrassed face.
Ooh, I had another Idea. I took out my phone and typed a message in the chat. Although my hands were on my phone I dare not lower my eyes and be caught off guard by the teacher and share a fate with Kelan. I relied on muscle memory.
Once I confirmed the message's correctness, I hit send.
As the class went on, we could sometimes see some boys and girls outside the class laughing at Kelan. This invited a small round of stifled laughs in students who seldom see a moment they can enjoy.
* * *