You're not even sure how you make it through the rest of the day without being an incoherent and heart strung mess. Every few minutes you flip out of reality into your dazed mind, and you have to stop yourself from running into doors and other students. What had you done to deserve all this?
You had to stop thinking about it, because frankly all this think was making you sick. It especially doesn't help when Lincoln decides to slide next to on your way to your last class. "What's going on with you? Are you doing drugs? I wouldn't care, because the War on Drugs is racist and all, but I'd just like to know, because we're friends and all."
"No, I'm not on drugs," you assure, but you almost think that's what this feeling is. "It's just... Barack asked me out to Homecoming."
He sighs. "Another one bites the dust, hm? Can't say I'm surprised. Like Black people during the crack epidemic."
You narrow your eyes at him. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Y'know, Black people are always greatly affected by any detrimental phenomenon in society, nothing more. It's just that it's in their nature."
"I'm leaving." You're really not in the mood for this today.
"What? Did I say something?"
"Bye, Lincoln."
"You should know very well my bestest friend was Black! Fredrick Douglas, look him up, loser! I can't be racist if that happened! And I knew Karl Marx, dummy!"
His insults quickly fade into the background as you march to class. After failing what seems like your third test this week, you head to the library, hoping to get maybe a cry out or something.
You're supposed to be heading home, but you don't feel like dragging the dredge of failure along with you. You lay your head on the table like you're playing heads up seven up, and you wish you could go back to those simpler times, but not in a traditionalist way of course.
"Y/n?"
Your head snaps up, and you see Bernie gazing at you in concern. You quickly pull on a smile. "Oh, hi, you."
"Is that supposed to be convincing?" he remarks.
"Yes? Maybe? No." You groan. "I'm just having a hard time lately."
"I'm sorry about that. I'm glad I ran into you, I guess. Would finishing that interview make it better?"
"You know what? Actually, it would. Thanks."
"Anytime." He glanced around as the library began clearing out. "They're doing a cleaning through the school pretty soon, so we should probably get out of here."
"And go where?"
He gives a mischievous smile. "I know a place."
You're a little curious as to what that means, but you're too sluggish to even care really. You just needed to get that interview done already. You nod. "Alright, after you."
You walk alongside him out of the building. "So how've you been?" Bernie asks.
"You take a guess based on the condition you saw me in."
"So just peachy?"
"Yep, most definitely." You sigh. "But how are you?"
"Alright, I had a track meet the other day. I came in second for the mile, could've been better. I wasn't at my best, but I got what I got." He shrugs.
"Well that's phenomenal to me. Better than anything I've ever done."
"You've just gotta believe in yourself."
YOU ARE READING
Diplomat High
HumorLooks like you're a new student at Diplomat High, y/n. To be able to graduate, you're placed on the Yearbook team, meaning you're tasked with talking to and interviewing several future political leaders, along with helping them with their misfortun...
