Intro
Russell attempted to calm himself down, but the situation felt on the verge of disaster, even on his first day on campus. It hadn't been more than a few minutes since he had set foot in the new school, and already he was overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. The idea of surviving this experience seemed impossible to him. He couldn't help but entertain the morbid thought of his skeleton being discovered in the janitor's closet by the end of it all. It was a grim image, but one that strangely felt fitting in his current state of panic.
Russell muttered to himself silently, using his fingers to help count off the things he needed to get done by the day: checking his dorm room, getting the timetable, meeting his roommate, going to the office to inquire about his locker...
Quite obviously, he had a ton of errands to attend to.
As he took his seat in the classroom, which he had just randomly chosen, he quietly observed the state of the class - an obvious mess. He took out his phone and his earbuds before playing his selected choice of music. Some people had already tried talking to him, and they all conversed in a friendly manner. "What are you listening to?" "What's your name?" "May I sit beside you?" He hastily answered all of them, not once looking up to see who was talking. He couldn't really blame them. Classmates had to know each other, after all.
Russell was never the one that took the first step forward" he only ever followed others around, blending in with the background. He wasn't quite the leader type. Back in middle school, Russell rarely made friends, choosing to linger around the school compounds by himself. Even if he wanted to talk to others, he needed them to talk first. But if he really, really had no choice but to speak first, his hands would be clammy and sweaty, and a weird, cold sensation would slowly creep into his heart and engulf it with uneasiness, causing him to stutter in his words. He would rather not embarrass himself that way.
The first half of the day went by smoothly despite the initial trouble he went through at the beginning, although he barely paid attention to the lectures. He was never fond of listening to some grown-up's endless lecturing. He'd rather doodle and listen to music. It was even harder for him to complete his drawings if some of them called on him to answer questions. He was fairly smart but chose not to put in the effort as he couldn't be bothered to.
However, there was one thing that did manage to attract his attention. There would occasionally be loud outbursts of laughter in the middle of nowhere, presumably coming from the back of the class. He sighed to himself. It was always the people sitting at the back who fooled around the most. He turned his head apathetically, only to notice a guy with black hair cracking jokes at nearly every sentence the teacher uttered. Well, the class sure did like him seeing from their seemingly forced reactions to his lame-ass puns. It was already clear to Russell that he was one of those popular kids, and he made up his mind not to ever be near them or be friendly with them. It would be even worse if they made him one of them. He didn't really like a lot of them, as they somehow always got up his nerves in more ways than one."I love you, Jesus!" Desiree, the girl beside him, cried as she read the Bible. How great! He wanted peace and quiet, and they gave him the exact opposite.
It was already half past eleven which was about an hour left until their lunch break. Russell was already in a bad mood by now, that boy and his little group of friends kept disrupting his concentration. The rest of the class laughed along with him, but Russell didn't find their jokes funny. He was cursing them under his breath and he proceeded to continue doodling away.
"So class, as we can see, the hot air balloon has managed to stay afloat in the air for quite some time even when carrying a large number of passengers in it. Now, can anyone tell me what properties of the hot-air balloon caused it to-"
"Sir, I think it's a miracle the hot air balloon even managed to stay inflated at all!"
"Well, compared to your deflated sense of humour, I think the hot-air balloon has the upper hand here unless you intend to counter it with your inflated ego, of course…"
Wait. Hold on a second. Why was the class suddenly so quiet?
Russell didn't intend to make his comment be heard, he had just intended to mutter it under his breath…the deafening silence in the class said otherwise. He supposed that was the last straw for him before the class had one of the loudest uproars of the day. Thunderous claps soon filled the class, and in the end, Russell couldn't help but sneak a smile onto his face. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could see how people liked being funny.
Despite the absence of the final bell, Russell began packing his belongings into his bag, eager to bring the day to a close. The sound of Mr. Clark's voice grated on him, leaving him with a deep-seated irritation. He couldn't fathom how much longer he could endure before his sanity completely depleted. Almost as if in response to his thoughts, the bell, slightly off-key, echoed throughout the entire school grounds. In a flurry of movement, students poured out of the classrooms, their urgency to escape the monotonous lectures giving Russell pause. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who couldn't bear to spend another minute with his fellow classmates. The thought amused him, and he mused on the irony that he would now have to spend most of his time in their company. It was a reality he would have to adjust to, whether he liked it or not.
Despite the afternoon hour, Russell found himself devoid of hunger. He hadn't eaten breakfast, yet the idea of plain water being considered a meal seemed dubious at best. Deciding to settle for a quick snack in the cafeteria, he planned to swiftly move on and explore the campus.
Russell hastily shoved the entire muesli bar into his mouth, devouring it with urgency before venturing towards the common area to see what awaited him there. The cafeteria was teeming with students, crammed together like sardines as they sought to satisfy their hunger after a long and draining day at school. It was evident that the students had already formed their own groups and established their individual personalities, a classic high school cliché. Locating the common area proved relatively easy, although it appeared deserted, likely due to the recent hot weather. Dismissing the idea of sitting in a stuffy, unventilated space devoid of fans or air conditioning, Russell found solace in the fact that today wasn't particularly scorching.
Determined to discover places within the campus where he could unwind and relax, Russell embarked on an exploration, venturing outside. As soon as he stepped out, a gentle breeze brushed against his face. Trees provided inviting patches of shade, and his affinity for nature drew him towards them. Despite the availability of more favorable shaded spots, Russell settled for a tree that stood a distance away from the main building, yearning for a tranquil retreat. Noticing a solitary, delicate tulip near a serene lake, he decided to capture its beauty on a fresh page in his sketchbook. With the tip of his mechanical pencil, he carefully outlined the elegant pink petals, adding subtle shading to bring the image to life. As a soothing breeze whispered from the east, enveloping him in its comforting embrace, Russell's attention was abruptly drawn to the rustling of leaves above.
Curiosity piqued, he peered upward, fixing his gaze on the tree. The rustling continued, distinct from the gentle breeze that he initially attributed to the movement. Drawing closer, Russell was taken aback when two dark eyes met his own. The shock rendered him speechless, and he let out a piercing scream, convinced that a ghost had come to claim his soul. Frantically scanning the surroundings, he hoped that his outburst had gone unnoticed, as maintaining appearances, even at the risk of his life, remained a concern. The tree rustled with increased intensity, until suddenly, a boy tumbled out and landed directly on top of Russell before he could even react.
"Ouch…"
Russell swiftly pushed the boy aside, rising to his feet and brushing off his shirt. As he turned to confront the familiar figure, annoyance simmered within him. What was the boy's name again? His irritation grew as he locked eyes with the boy, who was now nursing a slightly injured ankle. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Russell complained, glaring at him while getting back on his feet.
"Nothing, just observing you, obviously," the boy retorted.
"You do realize how creepy that sounds, right?"
"Cut me some slack, that tree was incredibly uncomfortable! Not to mention the branches—"
Rolling his eyes, Russell dismissed the impending bullshit explanation. Witnessing a boy hanging from a tree was not an everyday occurrence. He gathered his belongings and settled back down, deciding to pretend that the incident never happened. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed that the boy had taken a seat in front of him, lost in thought as his hand toyed with a blade of grass.
"What are you still doing here?" Russell asked, his tone laced with impatience.
The boy glanced up and offered a smile. "You know, it's been a while since anyone matched my sense of humor."
"Your humor is on par with that of an immature middle schooler," Russell retorted.
"Really? Everyone in class was laughing at my jokes," the boy insisted.
Russell looked up and his gaze inadvertently landed on the boy's black hair. Caught off guard by an unexpected sight, he burst into laughter, leaving the boy bewildered as he scanned the sudden mirth.
In an instant, his face twisted into a mask of horror, his hands darting up to his hair as if under attack. One of them recoiled abruptly, stung by the prick of a sharp thorn nestled in a wayward twig. With a collected demeanor, I observed his frantic state, studying his narrowed eyes as they bore into mine, awaiting a suitable explanation.
"Well?" he pressed, his impatience palpable.
Maintaining an air of nonchalance, I responded with a feigned innocence. "What?"
Gesturing to his disheveled hair, he pleaded, "I can't fix this if my hand keeps getting splinters. Help me out, dude."
Amused by the situation, Russell rose to his feet and positioned himself behind him. Carefully, he plucked away the small twigs that had entangled themselves in his hair. There were quite a few of them. With deliberate precision, Russell also brushed off traces of dirt. Finally, after removing the last stubborn twig, he playfully ruffled his hair to signal the completion of his task, extending a helping hand to assist him in standing up. "Thanks," he muttered appreciatively.
"You're quite the character, you know," he remarked, unable to resist a smirk. "I haven't come across anyone with a gadget like that before."
Russell responded by pointing at his phone. "Oh, this thing? It's a handphone, similar to the telephone that was invented in 1876. Antonio Meucci is credited with creating the first basic phone in 1849, and Charles Bourseul devised a phone in 1854. However, it was Alexander Graham Bell who secured the first U.S. patent for the device in 1876-"
"Dude, chill out!" he interjected, waving his hands frantically to cut off my impromptu history lesson. "I just wanted to know how you got it."
With an air of caution, I cast furtive glances around us, ensuring the veil of secrecy remained intact. We stood in the quiet solitude of our surroundings, and I weighed the consequences of divulging classified information to a sole confidant. Surely, one person could be entrusted with such knowledge without dire consequences?
Taking a measured breath, I initiated the disclosure, my voice hushed and laden with significance. "Listen closely," I began, my words laced with a sense of intrigue. "What I'm about to reveal is classified information, known only to a select few. My father, you see, occupies the role of a technician within a discreet establishment known as Pear. The device you now behold, discarded and abandoned, is an erstwhile prototype. Rumors abound that an official launch is slated for the forthcoming month of April."
He absorbed this revelation, his expression a tableau of contemplation and curiosity. His eyes sparkled with the allure of clandestine knowledge.
"So, your father assumes the guise of a government operative, perhaps engaged in covert digital espionage?" he postulated, a mischievous smile playing upon his lips.
"Cut the posh crap.", Russell said, rolling his eyes. Exhaling a weary sigh, Russell shook his head, seeking to dispel any misconceptions. "No, my father is not a government digital spy," he clarified, his voice laced with a touch of exasperation. "He's just a technician."
A playful grin spread across Harrick's face as he absorbed the information. "Ah, I see," he replied, seemingly undeterred by the revelation. "But it sounds like a pretty cool job, though."
Pausing for a moment to mull over Harrick's remark, Russell found himself mildly perplexed by the casual use of the term "bro." However, he dismissed the curiosity as inconsequential, choosing instead to nod in acknowledgment. With a sense of urgency, he gathered his belongings, acutely aware of the resounding bell that marked the beginning of the second half of the school day. Regrettably, his interrupted snack would have to wait. That guy really knew how to throw off his plans.
Intent on reaching his next class on time, Russell quickened his pace, determined not to be tardy. Yet, before he could make much headway, the boy from earlier caught up to him, extending a hand to touch his arm.
The sound of the bell pierced the air, its reverberations serving as a reminder of our impending obligations. Gathering our belongings, we prepared to return to the rhythm of academia. It seemed our brief encounter had left an indelible mark, forging an unexpected connection.
"I barely even know your name."
"You can call me Russell."
"How about Brussel, like brussel sprouts…I mean, who in the world even names their child a name like that? Are you that unloved?"
"As if yours would be any better," I retorted. Russell wasn't THAT bad of a name.
"Hey!" he nudged my shoulder, "Harrick is a way cooler name anyway."
"Have I mentioned that you're an absolute dick? Maybe I should call you an asshole, yeah, that suits you."
Harrick laughed. He continued, not even taking any offence to my remark. "Look, you dropped your muesli bar." He passed it to me. I muttered a quick thanks before ripping the wrapper apart.
"You're really interesting, you know that?" Harrick told me out of bloody nowhere.
"I'm not just some animal which you can just stare at."
We walked through the hallways of the school in complete silence, contrasting the bustling noise around us as students and teachers alike were trying to get to their own respective classes on time. Realising that I still didn't have my schedule on hand with me, I proceeded to walk towards the Office, as Harrick made some small talk with me.
We stopped in front of the big poster showcasing the numerous classes. "Here," Harrick said as his finger pointed to my…no, our class. Great. I apparently had to share nine classes with Harrick, excluding the History course I was thinking about. Harrick mentioned he wanted to chase a degree in Science and Computer Science. That's a lot of science.
Noting the remaining classes for the day, we made our way to Block B, where Literature was being held. Ugh. Who the fuck even wants to learn about such a dull subject? Too bad it was mandatory.
I just hoped the rest of the day wasn't as hectic as the first half.