Philophobia (Anger is Bliss)

chapter 3

I get to school.

Luckily, the bus was late, as usual, but the day didn't start well.

If only I hadn't zoned out for so long.

The thing is...I'm doing it again right now. I look at my phone, 7:57. I need to get up and find the classroom for my first period right away or else the teacher will mark me as absent. On the second day of school, wow.

I get up and build up the courage to go to class without thinking about the skipping option. I'm searching. 7:59.

The bell rings. 8:00.

I search more carefully. 8:07.

Minutes pass and I finally find the classroom after knocking on the wrong door twice and almost having the worst embarrassment of my life. I wait in front of the door and take a look inside—making sure not to repeat the same mistake a third time. Everyone has taken a seat and the teacher is sitting at his desk.

Do I really have to go inside though? Right now? Everyone will stare at me, it's going to be so embarrassing. Well, either way, it's not like I have a choice, do I?

I take a deep breath and take a step forward when I see the teacher getting up, walking—rushing, I'm so dead—in my direction. I panic. Shit. Maybe he saw me, there's no possible going back now. I don't have any other option.

As I put my hand on the handle, I feel it going down under the pressure, because the teacher is trying to open it to scold me as soon as he can.

"Oh hello, get inside quickly, I'm coming back in a few minutes," he says, rushing outside again.

Processing what just happened because of how quick it was—also because I didn't get any comment or threat—I step inside and let out a sigh of relief, which intensifies when I realize no one is paying any attention to me. They're all just talking, they don't care and it's perfect that way.

I walk to the back of the classroom where two empty seats are left near the window. This class is full of rich kids, they all sit in the front to suck the teacher's ass. I once heard a rich kid talk about how he went skiing with our PE teacher last year. I haven't been the same since. Who even does that?

I have no idea what the hell I'm doing here. My only parent is a single mother working in a factory. I have no business being in the same class as the kids that will inherit the damn factory.

Actually, probably no one will, but you get the point.

The back is so much better. You can see everyone, and they can't see you unless you see them looking at you. Isn't that wonderful? I don't have to worry about whether the people behind me see the board well enough, I don't have to turn around to see anyone, I can do what I want without the teacher knowing and without others seeing. How great is that?

Anyway. Today is just getting better, I guess.

I sit near the alley and not the window, just so the classroom looks full and so nobody can see the seat next to me is available, just in case. I take my pencil case and some paper and proceed with a drawing I have started a few days ago.

A line here. Another there. Ugh, no. Not there.

I sigh.

I suck at drawing. I used to know what to do and how to do it for drawings to look decent, but that was a long time ago. And anyway, I write, too.

And I'm good at it.

Suddenly the room goes quiet. The entire classroom goes from loud talking to whispering. Did they just notice me? No. Impossible. They wouldn't all collectively agree to stop talking at the same time and conspire against me. They don't even care about my presence.