philophobia - ♡

pilot

Boston, MA
8:34 a.m.
11/18/22

Cole Humphrey

I've heard what people say about me. I've been keeping a list, actually. Here's what I've been called so far:
• loser
• fatass
• bitch
• psychotic
• try-hard
• pick me
• (several slurs)
That list started a month ago. That's just what I've heard directly. I don't really believe what other people say. Not just the insults. There's this girl in my class, Sofii (her parent's mistake, NOT mine.) She insists that she loves me and that nobody talks about me. Two days after she said that for the first time, she walked into the bathroom while I was in it and called me a future school shooter.

I don't really mind that everyone hates me. It doesn't bother me nearly as much as it should. I have friends, kinda. They just don't live in Boston. My best friend, Noa, lives in South Dakota. I met them on Roblox when we were 10. Almost 6 years later, we're still friends and talk almost every day. I'm not his best friend, but they're mine.

Today, I'm sitting in my first period choir. I don't really like choir, but I needed another elective, and I figured choir doesn't take much energy.
There's two groups of people in choir:

1.) Future broadway stars, at least that's their hope. They never misbehave and shun anyone who would dare to.
2.) People who simply needed another elective. Or they liked singing okay, and figured choir would be funner than it is. Their activities include not-so shushed gossip and phones behind folders.

Our choir teacher is in her late 50's, probably. She says every day after class that she's one class period closer to finally retiring. I'll bet she'll stay another year. She hates us, but for some reason, has an imminent desire to stay.

I'm actively partaking in the activities of a type 2. Obviously not the gossiping part. It's not like the gossip is about me either. I've learned that I can manage to stay invisible if I don't talk back. That tends to be hard to do. Sometimes people are just so stupid, you feel the undeniable need to tell them about it.

I usually take careful and quiet observation on the environment surrounding me. Being mostly quiet has its advantages. For example, right now, Danica Creed's nudes got leaked. She went to the bathroom 4 minutes ago crying, with Maren Trade following soon after. Nobody really knows it's her, though, because her face wasn't in them.

The bell finally rings, giving us a taste our four minutes of freedom before the next imprisonment.

Next is World History, with Mr. Brewer. I love this class. I may have just compared classes to prison, but this is the exception. We actually learn, and he tries his hardest to make it fun for us. It's also lacking something I hate: stupid, annoying, and popular people. It's the smart people history class, which is great. Just a bunch of nerds perfectly in their elements.

There is one jock, though.

Wyatt Daniels.

Somehow, his royal highness slipped through the cracks and ended up here.

He slides in the door just as the bell rings, tossing a simple, "Hey Brewer," as he tosses his bag to the floor one seat to the right of me.

Of course, Brewer put him next to me. Wyatt's tried to make conversation a few times, but he's mostly learned his lesson. Except today, I guess.

"Hey Lettie, do you have the notes for-"

I cut him off. "That's not my name." I do my best to ignore him and not look back to him to try to see his reaction. I do glance from my peripherals, though. He's pinching his lips together and nervously staring back and forth from me to his paper. I... oh god. I feel kind of, like... bad? I turn back to him without even realizing what I'm doing.

"It's Cole."
He stares blankly at me.
"My name?" I stammer out, "Its Cole... Humphrey."
He nods with a slight smile hiding behind anxious eyes, "Okay... Cole," he looks into my eyes for approval.

His eyes are a shining amber. They're the color of caramel and root beer. It's like going to a museum and seeing the crystals and rocks. They're just different shades of melded together hazel. I nod encouragingly at him.

"Do you have the math notes for..." he forgets his request, and checks his computer quick to confirm, "for.. 11-7?" He looks back to me.

"Yeah, yeah.. I'll send them to you, okay?" I separate myself from the conversation.

"Hey, Cole?" I glance up to find him already staring at me.

"Uh.. yeah?"

"Thank you."

8:34 a.m.
Wyatt Daniels

I'm popular. I'll admit it. I'm not, like, the most popular. But I am popular.

People surround me, most times not even fully absorbing that I'm there. They're there usually for Denver or Carter, or one of the seniors that talk to me every so often.

I'm sitting in my first period gym class. Our coach is gone today, so we're just messing around and playing basketball. I'm no good at basketball really. My specialty is in soccer. I could run up and down the field all day.

Denver and Carter both play basketball and football. Those sports get the most girls too. They're each talking to at lease 3 girls at any given time.

Me?
I've never had a girlfriend.

I lied to them, to get them off my back. I told them my first girlfriend was named Letta. It was short for Coletta.

What they didn't know?

My Coletta was a real person.

She just hasn't gone by Letta since we were in 1st grade.

Denver and Carter only came to our school at the start of high school. Me and Coletta? I've been admiring her from afar since pre-k. Of course, she wouldn't notice, she was always too busy drawing or being smart to notice me. She didn't even remember me after I had gone to a different middle school.

I remember when I came back for high school and I saw her there. I decided: no more putting it off. I had to talk to her. I told Den and Carter that I'd be right back, and then I ran through the halls and lounge to find her. When I found her, she was in the library. Obviously.

I pulled out a chair across from her and sat down. Her eyes didn't even graze me. "Why are you sitting here?" She whispered, never taking time to even find my face.

"Because... I missed you, Letta."

Her eyes snapped up with a sudden coldness.

For the first time, she saw me.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about. You must have the wrong person," she shook her head softly, preventing her eyes from giving me any more time of day than they already had.

"I guess that's true. Bye, Letta," I slung my bag over my shoulder, "I'm Wyatt, by the way." Her eyes passed by me to see if I was still there, "Wyatt Daniels."

AN: Hii sorry it's so short haha I'm tired and i randomly would write in this chapter but today I decided to get it done. Pls tell me what u think ok luvv uu bye!