The Tragedy

when it hits

Austin's POV:
I walk into school at 7:15 AM, as usual. Greeting some of my peers on the way to my locker, and giving my girlfriend a quick hug and a peck on the lips before heading to homeroom.

It's safe to say that I love school just as much as the stereotypical nerd. I'm usually always the first to class, I finish my work before the bell, I always have spare time on my hands for any extra credit, and I complete my homework right away so that I can do whatever I'd like to for the rest of the day. Call me a perfectionist, or a geek, if you'd like; it's not going to offend me. I'd actually take it as a compliment.

My girlfriend, Ally, is the same. School has always been her best subject, if you count school-all together-as a subject (because it technically is). She enjoys the exams, always participates in reading aloud, never hesitates to include herself in all discussions, and truly takes in what she's taught. I admire that about her, as not many people are as fond about school as she is. I guess it's the same with me, but her specifically. She's so smart, it's incredible.

You know what, I'm just gonna stop while I'm ahead. I could go on and on about her; I'll probably only end up frustrating myself because of lost focus.

Taking out the paraphernalia needed for the first 10 minutes of the day, which was really only a planner and a pencil, I sighed. I'm the only one in the room, and I'm early... So why do I bother, anyway? Oh, right, because I'm a nerd. I forgot.

I'm not going to lie and say that I'd never been teased for enjoying school. In junior high, I was actually bullied every day just for being myself; a kid who loved learning. Why is that a crime? The most successful people in the world were educated, and I want to be successful, hence why I want to be educated. It's not only that, sure-I loved telling my parents what I had learned after school everyday-but that doesn't give kids the right to be judgmental about it. If they had actual goals set for themselves, then they wouldn't be talking.

Just saying.

My thoughts were interrupted by the bell and a sea of students rushing through the hall, and into the classroom. I coughed inwardly, trying to maintain my natural state, before looking down at my planner and trying to blend in. Ok, yes, I'm a little shy...deal with it.

Soon, everyone is in their seats, and our homeroom teacher begins taking attendance.

"Bailee," he calls out in a monotone, slowly pacing back and forth at the front of the classroom. "Here," my classmate says, nonchalantly. "Drake B.," he carries out, continuing his pace. "Here," my peer sighs. I look out the window, just thinking, as our homeroom teacher keeps calling out names for, what seems like, eternity.

When he says my name, I just blankly call out, "Here!" before retreating to my train of thought.

I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I have this paranoia that's eating me up. I just can't shake the feeling of something bad happening, and it only makes me fear the rest of the day, which I've-honestly-hardly ever done before. I have a great family, good grades, a lovely girlfriend, a good reputation, just an amazing life... No health, or mental health, issues have taken place and I definitely do not have any learning disabilities, or just any disabilities at all.

I'm really lucky. So why am I feeling like something terrible is going to happen?

"Now," the teacher brings me back to reality, "we will be having a school dance in the next week or so. I expect all of the school lovebirds to be there; it's always fun teasing you guys," he adds, giving me and a few other students a glance. I swear my cheeks turned a crimson red as I slightly slump down in my seat from embarrassment. I love my homeroom teacher, but honestly...he can get super nosy sometimes.