A World of Colliding Fates

As far as the world would be determined as 'big,' life doesn't seem so.

First thing's first, life feels like being trapped in an enclosed and restraining piece of box filled with high hopes and expectations. That box is placed on top of a shelf. A sporadic and unexpected 6.2 earthquake then rattles the whole house and destroys that shelf, but that box just falls to the ground, remaining closed.

So yeah, life--

"'Nard?"

His head snapped up from the wad of papers in front of him, his pen stranded in the air, clasped on his hands. Stephen slid into the bench and placed his elbows on the table, hands on his chin.

"Are you okay?"

Stephen bowed his head until his forehead met the white brilliance of the table. "No," he said miserably, voice slightly muffled because of its contact with the table.

A bunch of others, laughing and shoving each other, a feat only made possible by the male gender with a tray of food in their hands, also slid on the bench, dumping their trays on the table.

"Hey!" he shoved Eris on the shoulder, flicking away his plate dripping with red sauce. It left a taint on his paper, mixing with the ink on the place where he wrote his name and the date of the day. He tsked three times and rip the paper anyway, intending to ask his mother to do the essay for him. After the balled up crumpled paper was being rounded in his hands, he positioned it on a shooting motion and targeted the trash can next to the entrance of the cafeteria.

Midway through the air, the door opened and his heart figuratively stopped beating. Please don't be a professor, his mind screamed, please don't be anyone who's being payed by the school!

Long, bland green with tinges of yellow swirled into view, and he saw the paper thumping the head of a girl with a hair that only reached past her chin, some restrained behind her ear, most looking wavy with the lack of brushing - or at least it seemed like it lacked brushing. His younger sister always made the fuss of brushing her hair, and goodness, fair amount  of brush really does make a difference.

But a girl-- why is that even-- his mind couldn't process any thoughts.

The people on their table looked over and everyone of them was laughing merrily. Couple of hands slapped him on the back to show their appreciation. "Good shot!"

She menacingly glanced down on the paper, her eyes casting downwards, head not bowed. A rigid and obviously irritated posture kept her back straight, but she kneeled down anyway, picking up the paper and smoothing it out. His heart beat came back, and sweet mother of dogs, he wished it didn't; it beat too fast, paining him on the chest.

She mouthed his name, and, through the chatter of the whole cafeteria, looked like she sneered. She looked around, but luckily, Menard had enough common sense not to meet her eyes.

"Do you know her?" Stephen asked, his back bent ninety degrees just to stare at what happened.

"No," he croaked, feeling some sort of relief come over him.

Grinning, Stephen took his water bottle and gulped, ignoring his looks of protest. "Maybe she's in our year," was what he said after pausing on drowning on Menard's water.

"I don't think so, have you seen her closely? She'd be too short, and that girl looks like a tomboy. And why is she even -- ?"

"Shush, dude. We've got--" Stephen glanced down at his wrist. "three hours before school ends. Let's just enjoy our view. We don't get this everyday."

"But really--"

"Bro, just go with it!" Eris said, elbowing him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said. Normally he wasn't as laconic as this, though his peers would say otherwise-- he was very talkative, and the way he rambled earlier showed not even a quarter of his true ways of socializing.

"Homeworks are making you too uptight." The whole table occupants exchanged loud billows of laughter.

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"Psst!" Caden whispered, nudging Menard on the foot. He was laughing at an inside joke made by another classmate, and they were trying to chuckle discreetly.

"Now a cliffhanger should always..." the teacher droned on, staring at the right side of the room.

When it seemed safe to answer back, he leaned in on his desk and alerted his attention to Caden, head sideways. "What?"

"I found out that the chick's school's the small one that was in front of Smallpause, it's near your district,"

"The one closed down?"

"No, it's still open. That's where my cousin studies--"

"Mr. Antipolo, your attention, please." The bespectacled sharp eyes narrowed on Caden, and he inched down on his seat. "Class, answer page two hundred forty seven,"

Everyone groaned, having enough energy to do so, but apparently not enough for them to do the seatwork.

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Do you know the stories where the typical plot is bad boy meets the nerd? Well, this was supposed to be the opposite. The dude was supposed to be the nerd, and the girl the former. Unfortunately, I modeled the dude after this guy I vaguely saw and exchanged a very awkward constipating 'hi' with. He's very talkative -obviously not with me, the only interaction we had was that said hi- and I was told that he was actually quiet at that time. He spoke for less than five minutes of what I would've said for a week! And he's a year older than me, and we're almost, if not the same height. Or I think so anyway. I swear, I'll get taller somehow... And he has an awesome name.

Please, please, please! Vote if you've read it! I want to feel the appreciation because I'm that needy. XD