¿ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴀʟ? ✰𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙏𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨✮

✰. 38

Valentine

✰

You slumped your way out of the school gates. Legs hurting, almost trembling, and having your back hurt too from the weight of notebooks and textbooks in your bag. You made it to an empty bench, not even out of the school property, and set your back pack down and then your duffle bag which you used to carry extra clothes, some books, water, and sneakers.

You leaned on the wall behind you, not caring if your sweater were to get dirty. You were tired. You had easy classes; you made them easy. You did the work, half assed, turned it in, and always came out with one hundred percent. What made you exhausted was your form of physical education, and this class was the last class of the day. You could have chosen a regular class, like walking for health or even a sports class, but that would mean going to other places, buying equipment, and actually competing. You didn't have the time and money for that.

Instead, you settled for a basic class that was run by a fairly old teacher. He was a kind soul who cared for any student who came into his class, if that was even right to say. His class, by all means, wasn't large. On a good year, he'd get eight students. This year, he got one. You. How the school let that slide was a mystery.

His class was considered an elective course, mainly because it was optional and the hours of the class were outside school hours. On some days: Monday and Thursday, you'd wake up around five in the morning, get to school by six forty-five, stretch by seven, and run around the school perimeters for almost two hours. On Tuesday, you'd run after school. However, every Friday, you'd do both, run before and after school.

Like today, you were alone in the front of the school. You weren't waiting on anyone. You just needed a break. You needed to catch your breath after running for two hours and getting rushed out of the locker rooms by a janitor.

You groaned as you felt your legs pulse. Never before have they hurt so badly. You needed to get home to treat the pain. With a sigh, you got on your feet and equipped your belongings back onto your back and side, preparing for the walk home.

Pushing open the black gate, you started your trek on the sidewalk, feeling the wind blow over your jacket. There were gates on your right that marked school property like baseball fields, tennis courts on pavement, basketball hoops, random patches of grass, a small dirt track, and a small soccer field with goals and cones.

Looking up, you saw a group of boys; one of whom you knew instantly. He was in your science class and sat a couple of seats away from you. He was a funny boy. You would be lying if you said you didn't find him to be cute. How could he not be cute? His eyes were beautiful. His nose was perfect. His skin wasn't the best, but if anything, it only enhanced his features. His smile and laughter too. You've only experienced it first hand when the teacher put him with you for a lab experiment, and somewhere in the process, he made a joke, which prompted you to laugh, which made him laugh.

You could see Alex put his hands on his head, breathing out in the cold air and seeing his breath as he watched his friend attempt to score a goal only to he blocked by the goalie.

"Jamie, you're so shit!" He yelled as he squatted down.

"Well, I wanna see you fucking try to kick the ol' fucking ball! Someone over inflated the shit! It's too bouncy!" His friend argued back. His accent making the argument sound a million times better.

You smiled at the conversation and looked back in front of you. Opening the duffle bag to your side, you searched in a pocket for your MP3 player and connected it to the janky headphones you owned. You shuffled through the music and clicked on a random playlist that you made a couple months back.