Orange Juice

1

     I was in ninth grade. My parents and I moved back to the city after two years in the province. It turned out that life there wasn't that peaceful in reality. Gossip spread like wildfire. The second my mom and dad would be heard arguing, we would be the talk of the town any time soon. Of course it was constricting for both of them. They liked arguing.

     I resumed my studies in a local high school, just walking distance from home. The kids there weren't so bad. I immediately made new friends, and before I knew it I already made it through the first week.

     The second Monday came. My friends and I were in the cafeteria by lunchtime, talking loudly, when all of a sudden somebody tripped in the middle of the room and spilled a cup of orange juice on the floor.

     "Don't mind him," one of my friends said.

     Of course, all we gave him was a glance. Everyone didn't mind him. But it's hard not to notice him standing out, given that his uniform was a wet mess and that his shaggy hair was too unruly.

     The weird part was that he did the same mistake last week. He tripped and spilled his drink in the middle of the cafeteria-twice.

     Days passed. And then a week. It didn't take long until I realized that a month had already passed, and the same guy kept on tripping in the middle of the cafeteria and spilling his drink on the floor, as if he was already doing it on purpose. But nobody minded. The janitor would just clean his mess afterward. He, on the other hand, would just drag himself out of the room, giving the same kind of apathy he was receiving from everyone.

     I asked my friends what his name was. They told me they didn't know. But they did tell me that he was probably an upperclassman.

     I wondered if anyone actually tried to talk to him. Because he definitely looked awful already.

     One normal day, he did the exact same thing for the nth time, walking mindlessly with a clear cup of what it seemed like orange juice in his hand. Suddenly he slid his foot too far back, causing him to fall forward and spill his drink on the floor and on himself.

     Knew it. As if those shrunken eyes of his were already tired of that routine.

     He then picked up his frail body, and dragged his feet out of the room. No one bat him an eye-except for me.

     "Ummm... I'm gonna go to the restroom real quick," I said, hurrying myself up.

     "Oh okay. Want us to come with you?"

     "No, I'm fine!"

     I scurried out of the room, trailing a familiar lanky figure to the rooftop. He didn't seem to notice me following him at all. The moment I got at the top of the building, he was already on the edge, standing in front of the wired fence.

     What's he doing?

     Suddenly he turned his head around, and that was when his dull eyes met mine at the doorstep. I flinched. I couldn't tell if there was a better way to be caught, but it surely wasn't my intention to be weirdo here.

     "I-it's not what you think it is!" I cried. Perhaps it was my ego talking, but it surely did meet his when he returned a faint smile.

     That was the first time I saw him smile.

     He turned his head back forward and put his hands in his pockets, not seeming to mind me at all. With that, I had no choice. I walked up to him, and stood beside him, eyeing the same cumulus clouds clustering from a great distance.

     "Looks like it's gonna rain," I said out of nowhere.

     "Rain, it is," he replied, taking a second to glance back. His faint smile finally faded upon a sigh. "Why'd you follow me?"

     I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Why'd you go here?"

     He was tall, and his eyes moved to great heights again. "I just wonder how easier it'd be if they didn't put this fence here."

     I was taken aback. I shouldn't have asked that, no?

     "I-I'm Chiyo," I said, my hands fidgeting. "I just got here. How about you?"

     "Isamu," he answered. "Been here since seventh grade."

     "And... now you're...?"

     "Eleventh grade."

     Isamu was two years above me. Is it wrong to get involved with him?

     He sighed. "Listen... I don't think you should even be here. Thanks for being a little curious at least."

     I paused. Why is he smiling at me?

     I looked away and took a deep breath. "Tell me, Isamu... why were you doing that? Back in the cafeteria?"

     I heard him sigh. "Why not? Nobody cares."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Nobody cares. That's it."

    I kept silent, not sure of what he meant by that.

     "You bothered back there?" he asked.

     I ended up nodding.

     "I see..." He chuckled. "I didn't know someone actually would. You see, I've been doing that since forever ago. Out of nowhere. And... honestly? I thought it was interesting at first. I thought I looked stupid. But at most, everyone would just look at me for a good second. And that's about it."

     "Why though?" I asked. "Didn't anyone try to help you?"

     He shrugged. "Maybe there was one time or two when somebody approached me. I told them I was okay. I doubt they'd help me again anyway, but... I've always wondered what if I told them I wasn't. That I wasn't okay. Would they bother asking me again?"

     I was silenced.

     "I guess... people just stopped caring at all, having to see me do it over and over again. Or maybe they never cared at all. Because the moment they saw someone coming to help me, they knew someone's going to help. It didn't have to be them. Until everyone else thought of the same thing. It didn't have to be them who'd help. Until no one did anymore.

     "Am I pathetic? I know... but I shouldn't be, right? I should help myself.

     "Chiyo?"

     I turned to Isamu. Was he expecting an answer from me? Why was he smiling? Was I supposed to ask why it looked funny? I mean, he's not okay, right? He looked like a mess. His undershirt already imprinted on the huge bright stain stiffening on his white polo.

     "Yeah?"

     Before Isamu could even utter anything, the skies flashed and let out a distant growl. His hair swept with the cold breeze, revealing how pretty of a forehead he had. He looked a bit different under those tousled wisps. He looked okay.

     "Let's get inside. Won't be long before it rains," he said. "Bye."

     Hesitating, I nodded anyway. "Bye."

     I let him go first, following his steps when he already disappeared into the stairwell. I figured that maybe he didn't want to be seen with anybody. Or maybe he didn't have anybody at all. Because if he did, I wouldn't find him alone, staring at a lifeless fence like it was the only thing keeping him going.

     I wondered what he would spill next the day after that. But he didn't show up at the cafeteria.

     Two days later, people were finally talking about him. Apparently, Isamu already took his own life.