Phil's POV
Throughout the class, Phil kept glancing at Dan. He just couldn't understand it! Was it something he said?
Phil had never had someone take such an instant dislike to him. Sure, there had been some people that had hated him a little before, but it was never really that bad, or at least not so...sudden. They had barely known each other an hour!
But Phil was persistent, if nothing else, and he would keep at Dan until he could no longer.
All of a sudden, a bell rang, signalling the end of class. Phil carefully packed his books away, smiling a little to himself. Then he walked out the door of Room 35, taking out his timetable on the way, and studying it carefully. He had already forgotten what classes he had next.
Cheerfully, he headed towards his next class, which was History, in Room 63. Jeez, this school is a maze. Humming as he went, Phil gazed around at his surroundings, taking it all in. Other than the dead mouse outside the front door, and the smushed sandwich on the ground, the school seemed nice and happy.
Sure, a random nun yelled at him as he came in, and an older student called him a psychopath because he was smiling so widely, but that was normal, right?
Glancing at the door numbers as he walked past, he eventually stopped at the right one, 63, and pushed open the door, fearful on the inside, but joyful on the outside.
Thankfully, there was only about ten people in the room, so there wasn't a stareathon like last time.
Letting out a whoosh of air as he sat down, he grinned happily, taking out his books and Pokémon pencil case.
'Let's go to the realm of the past!' He thought to himself, settling back into his chair, and waiting for the class to begin.
YOU ARE READING
The Hardest Part Of This
FanficPhil is pastel. Or, at least that's how he's described. Flower crowns forever, bright converse, and pastel hoodies, he's a generally happy and optimistic person. He is at least acquaintances with most people who know him, and is well liked by all. H...
