Love Sick [boyxboy] [Watty's2015]

XI. Back To School Blues

Ever since the dawn of time, students have always dreaded school. The mere mention of its name brought unwanted shivers down helpless earthlings' backs. The sheer sight of it makes teenagers want to gorge their eyes out using their fingers. The unadulterated fact that we have to attend the mosh pit that is high school makes us want to dismember our legs using blunt dinner knife.

Okay, I am exaggerating... but not much.

The way I've figured it, schools are the penultimate poster kid of oppression—next to standing in line that is. The way kids are being forced to be woken up in the wee hours of morning just to attend and go to a pandemonium where they either:

A) Hate most of the population of the student body. (Like seriously? Being ultra-nice to everyone is one thing, being ultra-nice to everyone including the people you detested is another. Remember that plastics are for recycling plants, not for a place of learning);

B) Learn something that they won't ever use in the future. (Who in the blazes use fucking radians and conditions of equilibrium in everyday life? It's not like you'll just walk into a pizza parlour one day and say, 'Can I have a Hawaiian pizza with the circumference of 12 inches. Make sure the sector of a slice has radians of 45 degrees. And yeah, I also want it to have a torque of 230 Newton-meter.')

C) Suffer the imminent danger of risking their brains turning into a big bowl of porridge. (Assignments, projects, quizzes, etc. Okay, 'nuff said.)

Mum pulled into the student parking lot on the eastern part of the school at 7.01. Kayla, who rode shotgun, arranged her navy blazer properly and kissed Mum's cheek before hoping off towards the entrance. I took an ample amount of time in pretending to check my bag for my jotters and pencil case.

'Do you need some help there?'

'No, I'm fine,' I replied, closing my bag. I have all my jotters, planner and all the stuff I need. I even have my cello with me. I just don't think I am in the mood for education.

'I love you, Tris,' she said as I stepped out of her car.

'Ditto.' I kissed her cheek and walked away.

I kinda felt bad for my mum. For the past two days she's been trying to coax me out of the safety of my room in vain. I'd rather been too depressed for what had transpired during the last day of my stay in Belfast. She had been clueless of what was happening to me, but after Dad had filled her in (Simon wearily told him over a cuppa I heard) Mum had rather become too motherly too me.

It was too early but the hallway was bustling with students. Some were chatting in groups, trying to catch up with each other. Some were boisterously loafing around, blazers brazenly waved in the air, shouting at the top of their fucking lungs. I wonder how the SMT hasn't done some actions already.

And some, though very discreet, were walking awkwardly alone, trying to be invisible in the eyes of everyone. Of course they didn't, they weren't. Especially to the prankmeisters.

'Hey, Tris!' someone hollered in front of me. I lifted up my head a little and saw Toby Hart, my only mate here, shouldering his way towards me. Toby is in the same year as me though a year older. I was accelerated and skipped sixth grade. His copper brown coloured hair was cut short. He has a square jaw, sea green eyes, and handsome face.

'Hey, Toby!' I greeted when he reached to me. He slung his muscly arms around my waist and hugged me tightly. Toby, although very stocky, was just medium in height—just three inches taller than my five seven stature.

I heard some girl squeal in delight when Toby hugged me. I bet she's one of the yaoi fangirls here. I had a rather true theory that almost everyone here assumes that the both of us were dating, but honestly, we weren't. I mean, don't get me wrong, Toby's downright good-looking, funny, and he's pansexual. And his rich as fuck. It's just that we see each other as the brother we never had.