Stepping through the heavy double doors of the school building felt like wading into a different current. The air was warmer, thicker with the combined scent of cheap floor wax, slightly damp uniforms, and the vague, underlying odour of too many teenagers in one place. The hallway, minutes before an almost peaceful conduit alongside Mia, was now a churning river of bodies, noise, and forced casualness.
My earlier prayer about the gate felt stupidly naive now. Getting into school wasn't the goal. Surviving in school was the daily boss battle. And right now, level one was navigating the hallway to Room 3-B without making eye contact with anyone or tripping over my own feet.
Mia was a few steps ahead of me, already moving with that same calm grace through the crowd. She didn't push or shove, but somehow, the flow parted just enough for her. A girl with bright pink streaks in her hair waved enthusiastically from a cluster of lockers. Mia offered a small, genuine smile and a brief wave back. Further down, a couple of guys leaning against the wall straightened up slightly as she passed, giving respectful nods she returned with a polite dip of her head.
She moved through this environment like she belonged, like she was perfectly calibrated to its social physics. I, on the other hand, felt like a glitching NPC, my movements jerky, my internal compass spinning wildly. I hugged my bag tighter, the textbooks inside shifting uncomfortably, a physical reminder of the mess I'd made just minutes ago.
The walk felt interminable, even though it was probably only a hundred meters. Every group we passed seemed to pause their conversation for half a second too long as Mia went by, and I was acutely aware of myself trailing behind her. Was I with her? Was I just happening to walk in the same direction? Did they see us together? The questions ping-ponged inside my head, each one adding another layer of sweat to my palms.
"Hey, Mia! Did you finish the proposal draft?" a voice called out, clear and confident, from a bench near the staircase.
Mia paused and turned, her expression open and ready. "Almost, Ren! Just finalizing the budget numbers. I can send you the notes later."
"Awesome, thanks! Let me know if you need help with anything," the voice – Ren, probably another Student Council type, sharp-looking even in his slightly rumpled uniform – replied easily.
Mia's smile softened. "Will do! See you around."
She turned back towards our path, and I quickly averted my eyes, pretending I hadn't been listening, pretending I wasn't still standing awkwardly a few paces behind her. This was her world. Conversations about proposals and budgets, easy smiles with classmates, a network of names and faces that all seemed to fit together. My world was the quiet corner of the library, the glow of my laptop screen, and the wary scan of a room for potential threats.
We reached the corridor for the third-year classrooms. The noise level dropped slightly, replaced by the low murmur of students settling in before the first bell. Room 3-B was halfway down. As we approached, I could see the open door, a rectangle of slightly brighter, less chaotic space.
Mia slowed as we reached the doorway. I braced myself, unsure if she would just say goodbye and go in, or if she expected me to enter with her. It felt like standing on a precipice. What was the protocol here? Was there an unwritten rulebook for this kind of impossible situation?
She paused, turning back slightly. "Alright, Kira," she said, her voice still light. "Here we are."
It was a simple statement, but it felt loaded with significance. Here we are. As if the clumsy collision and the short, silent walk were some kind of shared journey culminating in this moment.
"Y-yeah," I managed, my voice still a little shaky. "Thanks... for walking. And for helping with my stuff."
She smiled properly this time, crinkling the corners of her eyes slightly. "Anytime! Just try not to unload your entire bag onto the pavement again, okay?" There was a gentle tease in her tone, not mean-spirited, just... warm.
She's teasing me. Mia Santos, the golden girl, was making a light joke at my expense, and it didn't feel like the sharp, cutting laughter I was used to. It felt... like a normal interaction?
My brain lagged. "Uh. Will try," I mumbled.
She nodded, her smile lingering. "See you inside then." And with that, she turned and stepped through the doorway, dissolving into the familiar chaos of our classroom.
I took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. My heart rate was still elevated. Standing just outside the door felt like a tiny bubble of suspension before being plunged back into reality.
Right. Classroom 3-B. My home away from home, otherwise known as the place where I spend seven hours pretending to be a functional human being.
I pushed through the door.
The immediate assault of noise hit me: chairs scraping, loud laughter from the front, smaller groups of chatter, the rhythmic tapping of someone drumming their fingers on a desk, the low hum of the air conditioning.
My eyes scanned the room automatically, seeking my usual safe haven. The back corner. Against the wall. Next to the window, where I could look outside and pretend I was anywhere else. It was usually one of the last spots to fill up, a quiet zone for the truly introverted or those actively avoiding social contact. My people. Or rather, my lack of people.
I spotted my desk, a scarred expanse of wood near the back left. Relief, sharp and sudden, washed over me. Almost there. Almost back to anonymity.
I started my usual trajectory towards it, head slightly down, eyes scanning the floor or the desks, avoiding direct gazes. As I navigated the narrow aisles between desks, I registered the familiar faces. The jocks clustered near the door, loud and boisterous. The 'popular' girls group, already applying makeup and swapping gossip near the middle-front. The serious students hunched over notes, ignoring the pre-class madness.
And then I saw her.
Mia Santos was already at her desk, which was, predictably, in the second row from the front, off to the side near the window but far from my corner. She was surrounded. Two girls were talking to her, heads bent close. A guy from the row in front was twisted around in his seat, asking her something. She was smiling, nodding, looking completely at ease, a central hub of calm and connection in the room's low-grade static.
Watching her, it hit me again. The stark contrast. Her world, vibrant and full of interaction. My world, muted and solitary. That short walk together felt even more surreal now, like a brief, impossible crossover event between two entirely separate dimensions.
I reached my desk, the familiar scrape of the chair legs on the linoleum a small, comforting sound of routine. I slid into the seat, the cool plastic against my back a welcome anchor. From here, I had my usual view: the backs of most people's heads, a clear line of sight to the window, and the comforting anonymity of being tucked away in the periphery.
I unzipped my bag the rest of the way, the zipper snagging slightly. I pulled out my biology textbook and notebook, placing them on the desk. My hand brushed against the cracked corner of my phone in my pocket. Daniel. The stinging memory of the slap. The quick, sharp reminder of the other kind of interaction this school specialized in.
Reality's harsh, bro.
Yeah. Standing outside with Mia felt like a brief, confusing dream. This was awake. This was the truth. The quiet kid in the back, the easy target, the background extra.
I should just focus. Just get through the day. Biology first. Mitosis. Cell cycles. Things that made sense, things that followed rules, unlike the chaotic, unpredictable social ecosystem around me.
I opened my biology notebook, trying to ignore the low buzz of conversation from the rest of the class. My eyes flickered towards Mia's desk again, despite myself. She was laughing now, covering her mouth politely, looking genuinely amused by something one of the girls was saying. Her ponytail swung slightly.
A bitter feeling pricked at me. Jealousy. Of course. Jealousy of her ease, her effortless belonging, the way people gravitated towards her.
And then, a shadow fell over my desk.
My stomach plummeted.
I didn't look up. I didn't need to. The air shifted, becoming heavier, charged with a specific kind of careless aggression.
"Hey. Look what we have here."
Daniel Montefalco's voice. Closer than it should have been. Right beside my desk.
My hand instinctively clenched around the edge of my notebook. I could feel the eyes of a couple of kids near me flicker in our direction. The general noise of the classroom didn't stop, but it seemed to... shift. Like a ripple in the water. People noticed. They just chose not to make it obvious.
Daniel leaned down, his face just inches from mine. He smelled faintly of cheap cologne and something vaguely sweaty. One of his buddies, Leo, hovered just behind him, a smirk already in place.
"Still messing up, huh?" Daniel said, his voice low, almost conversational, but with a steel edge. He gestured vaguely towards my still-slightly-disorganized desk, maybe remembering the earlier mess. "Running into people. Dropping your garbage everywhere."
My throat felt tight. I couldn't speak. My mind raced – what did he want? Did he see me with Mia? Was this about the phone again? Or was it just... because he could?
He chuckled, a short, unpleasant sound. "Guess some people just aren't built for this, huh? Too clumsy." He tapped my textbook with a finger, not hard, just a lazy, condescending tap.
"Leave me alone," I finally managed to croak out, my voice barely a whisper.
His eyes narrowed slightly. The easy smirk tightened. "What was that? Didn't quite catch that, idiot."
He was waiting for me to repeat it, to escalate. I knew this game. Every time I tried to push back, even just a little, it got worse.
My gaze was fixed on the scuff marks on his sneakers. Don't look up. Don't give him the satisfaction.
"Nothing," I mumbled, louder this time, forcing the word out. "Just... leave me alone."
He straightened up slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face, the kind that promised trouble. "Nah. I don't think I will."
He glanced past me, towards the front of the class, where Mia was still talking animatedly with her group. His smile widened. "Heard you had a little... incident... with our Student Council secretary this morning," he said, pitching his voice slightly louder, just enough for a few more ears to potentially catch it.
My blood ran cold. He did see us. Or someone saw and told him. Of course. Nothing escaped the school's informal surveillance network, especially not anything involving Mia.
"Funny, isn't it?" he continued, leaning in again, conspiratorial and cruel. "Someone like you, bumping into someone like her." He let the implication hang in the air. You don't belong near her. You're not in her league.
I gripped the notebook so hard my knuckles ached. The sheer unfairness of it. The brief, impossible kindness of Mia's interaction immediately overwritten by this corrosive reminder of my place.
"It was an accident," I said, the words tight and small.
Daniel barked a laugh, joined by Leo behind him. "An accident? Sure, sure. Just like everything you do is an accident, right? Walking, talking, existing..." He trailed off, shaking his head as if genuinely puzzled by my pathetic existence.
He glanced back at Mia again. She was still talking to her friends, her back mostly towards us. Unaware. Unconcerned. In her world, this wasn't happening. In my world, it was everything.
Daniel lowered his voice again, leaning in close, his breath warm and unpleasant against my ear. "Just so we're clear," he whispered, the playful mask dropping completely, revealing the genuine threat underneath. "Stay out of the way. And stay away from people you shouldn't be bothering." His eyes, when I finally risked a quick glance, were cold and hard. "Got it?"
I swallowed hard, unable to speak, just giving a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
He held my gaze for another second, assessing. Then, the cruel smile returned, faster this time, like flipping a switch. He ruffled my hair roughly – not playfully, but like a dog shaking a toy – making my head snap back slightly.
"Good boy," he said, loud enough for his buddy to hear, before straightening up fully. "Come on, Leo. Let's go bother someone interesting."
He swaggered away, Leo trailing behind him, both chuckling softly. They didn't even look back.
I sat there, rigid, my hand still clenched around the notebook. My hair felt messy and violated where he'd touched it. The back of my neck was prickling. My heart, which had just barely started to calm down after the Mia incident, was racing again, but this time with a cold, tight fear.
The background noise of the classroom slowly filtered back in, the chatter, the laughter. It was like the world had momentarily focused on me, delivered a punch, and then moved on, leaving me to deal with the aftershocks.
Stay away from people you shouldn't be bothering.
He meant Mia. Of course, he did. The brief, confusing moment of hope, the impossible crossover, was already being corrected by the brutal logic of the school's hierarchy.
My earlier internal argument – This isn't an anime, Kira, wake the hell up – echoed with sickening clarity. Mia's kindness wasn't a plot twist. It was just... Mia being Mia. And my reality, the one where people like Daniel existed and exerted their power, was still the dominant one.
I looked down at my open biology notebook. Mitosis. Prophase. Metaphase. Anaphase. Telophase. Clean, ordered stages. Cells dividing, creating new life.
Nothing like this mess. Nothing like the stagnant, suffocating social structure of Room 3-B.
I forced myself to breathe, to unclench my hand. My fingers felt stiff. I tried to smooth down my hair, but it felt useless.
The noise level in the classroom began to change. The casual chatter started to die down. The bell hadn't rung yet, but the shift was palpable. Students were drifting to their seats, pulling out books. Mr. Dela Cruz's familiar, slightly hunched figure appeared in the doorway, a stack of papers in his hand.
The transition from the volatile, unpredictable social free-for-all before class to the enforced quiet of the lesson was always jarring. It was like the school had a dual nature: the jungle before the bell, the sterile, monitored environment after.
Mr. Dela Cruz walked to the front, placed his papers on the desk, and turned towards the whiteboard. He picked up a marker.
The room settled. The last whispers died out.
"Okay, class. Before we proceed to the discussion on mitosis, I want you all to look at the board," Mr. Dela Cruz said, his voice flat, hitting that familiar rhythm from the prologue. As he scribbled down cell cycle phases, the sound of his marker squeaking on the board filled the silence.
And sitting in my usual back corner, trying to make myself small, the sting on my cheek from yesterday and the cold knot in my stomach from today felt like concrete proof.
This was my reality. This was high school.
And it still sucked. But now, the sucking came with the added complication of having momentarily glimpsed something better, only for it to be immediately snatched away and used as ammunition against me.
I stared at the diagrams appearing on the board, focusing on the ordered lines and labels, trying to push everything else away. Just get through the lesson. Just get through the day.
Just survive.
And whatever that impossible morning walk with Mia had been, it was over. It was just... an anomaly. An accidental blip in the brutal, unchanging code of this place.
My gaze flickered towards the front one last time. Mia was sitting upright, facing the front, pen poised over her notebook, already looking focused and ready to learn. Completely in her element. Completely unaware of the small, quiet battle that had just been fought – and lost – in the back corner of the room, partly because of her unintended presence.
Yeah. Definitely just an NPC.