Abnormality in normality.

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 8 : 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁.

ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕜𝕠'𝕤 𝕡.𝕠.𝕧

The classroom overflowed with far more people than I had bargained for. As I loitered near the door, strategizing about avoiding contact and conversation with the crowd, a woman entered and, as Mitsumi informed me, she was our form teacher. Stepping to the front of the room, she began addressing the class. "Alright everyone, we have a new addition to our midst. I wasn't aware that we had another newcomer - lucky school, I suppose. Let's give him a warm welcome as he joins us up front." Despite our teacher's prompt, the entire room remained eerily silent, with no applause for the new student. To make matters even more peculiar, the young man didn't budge from his seat at the back of the class. Personally, I wouldn't have made the effort to come forward in his place either. Who would want to step into such a dreary and unwelcoming atmosphere?

Whispering in my ear, Mitsumi said, "Psst, she's talking to you." I whispered back, "What are you talking about? I'm not a boy." Mitsumi chuckled and whispered, "You're literally wearing a boy's school uniform! I told you that would get you in trouble." As the teacher called on me, I realized the whole class was staring, anticipating my introduction. In a bid to clear the confusion, I approached the teacher and exclaimed, "Hey, old geezer, I'm not a boy!" I had no idea what the teacher's name was, so I decided to go with 'old geezer.'

When I took action, the class fell even quieter than before, if that's even possible.

The next thing I knew, the entire class was consumed by thoughts. The first person's thoughts I intercepted belonged to Mitsumi. "Is this girl out of her mind? She didn't even introduce herself; she just outrightly insulted our teacher! And it's just now that I realize I don't even know her name." Then I picked up on the thoughts of a guy with blue long hair and ocean blue eyes, someone who seemed familiar but whose identity I couldn't quite place. He thought, "This girl is trouble. I hope I won't have anything to do with her." Besides these two, the rest of the class collectively voiced in their minds, "She's a girl?"

After the entire class had calmed down, the form teacher assigned me a detention. Feeling bewildered, I asked, "I'm sorry, what exactly is detention?" My question appeared to frustrate the teacher, and she promptly sent me to the principal's office. Uncertain of the way, I hesitated to ask for directions, worried about her reaction. Despite this, I eventually found the principal's office, where I finally learned what detention entailed. It turned out to be a consequence for misbehavior, involving isolation and writing lines as a penance. Armed with this new understanding, I realized I could use detention as a way to avoid classes, providing a free solution to my problem.

Reveling in my newfound freedom, I exulted in the fact that I didn't have to interact with anyone, particularly not Mitsumi. Yet, my joy was short-lived as she dramatically burst into the detention room, walking as if she's walking on a red carpet. "I couldn't bear the thought of leaving my dear sister alone, so here I am, sharing your detention. Aren't I the best sister?" she proclaimed. "No, there was no need for you, I was fine being alone" I told her bluntly. As usual she put her hand on her chest as though I hit her brutally."Well, that's a downer. But now that I'm here, you can't avoid me," she declared, shamelessly reveling in her own presence. All I could do was roll my eyes at her overbearing enthusiasm.

After an interminable 45 minutes, our designated supervisor, the guardian of our glorious opportunity, succumbed to the siren call of sleep in his chair. Without missing a beat, I gladly followed suit, adhering to the age-old adage: "Follow your leader." Little did I know that this would be the catalyst for a most unexpected awakening.

Mitsumi, the harbinger of consciousness, shaking me with the urgency of a five-alarm fire drill. "The principal is coming, wake up!" she exclaimed. However, thanks to my groggy state and selective hearing, all I registered was, "The onions are on fire, wake up!" The revelation that truly roused me from my slumber was the principal's unearthly screams, echoing through the halls like a banshee with a megaphone.