How the World Judges You

Chapter One

The cafeteria, yes, the cafeteria; it was full of hopes and dreams. It was where we could fill our hungry tummies, chat with our own circle of friends, and enjoy all the laughter we could do. It was my light among the darkness.

"So, Amber's probably thinking that this whole cafeteria thing will give her answers in her upcoming history test. She's thinking that Alexander the Great ran his grand chariot around here right after Adolf Hitler invaded Germany's neighboring countries." Mica, she was my best friend – the one and only friend I got. She listened to all my bitter thoughts about this world. She didn't judge me by my words, and that made her the sweetest thing I had.

"Are you talking about me?" I asked her then took a sip of my smoothie. Well, I had to cherish this moment, 'cause summer's the only time they sell smoothies, and strawberry flavor at that.

She flipped her hair and rolled her eyes (she usually does) and people saw it like she was a bitch lingering around the school in search of the bar she was working in.

"I know that you're stupid and all, but don't take the role too much. Who else can I be talking to? Your tray with nothing but a freaking $5 smoothie? Hell, no!" Don't mind her. She was just exaggerating the price and it was way cheaper. I didn't have enough money to buy a car anyway.

I knew that I wasn't in the place to walk out on her, but I did. Not because I found her arrogant, but because I wanted to release my stress. In the bathroom. In liquid form. There was a steady increase in my pace and there was a 200% assurance that she could catch up. Mica was a volleyball player and yes, she was a six-footer player. I was so sure just a few steps of her gigantic legs, she could be right beside me who was just a mere 5 feet and 5 inches tall. I hate jocks.

They said I might be from the race of ants, small and tiny and fought hard but still a stupid spoiled brat who couldn't even collect her own food for the coming winter. It wasn't really a form of bullying because that was entirely true. I was a dumb person, dependent on my family's riches while sitting glamorously and doing nothing. I wished I could talk back, but I just couldn't.

"Hey Amber! You really have the guts to turn your back at me? Well, you of all people?" I could understand why she said that. I couldn't live without any friend at all. It pained me to imagine a school without Mica.

"How can I turn down the call of the orange ocean flowing through the pipes of a toilet bowl? It's much important than your nagging!" I had a thing when it comes to timing. The bell just rang and a lot of adrenaline-d (If a word like that existed, I was literally at the bottom of the lowest class and you don't have the right to correct me.) students filled the halls. What now? Did Michael Jackson come back to life? If he did, I would like to have his autograph.

"Excuse me, excuse me." I kept on repeating that until I finally reached the hall of where the comfort room actually reside, if that's the right term. I repeat, I'm a dumb student. Please bear with me unlike my old friends.

There was this guy standing near the girls' comfort room and I didn't have any idea what he might be doing there until I finally realized that he was giving out flyers and it was very bad timing considering that he would absolutely give me one. I wanted to save even a second. We never know when will things come out.

And so he did, "Hey! Look at you! You have a face of a genius future architect!" Then he gave a mini-poster. Did he want me to help him post this around the campus? Hell, no! I went to the comfort room as quickly as I could.

---

"Don't you have any classes?" The guy who gave me this flyer earlier asked me.

"Well, our history teacher said she will just give out our test papers and we can have an optional group study. I doubt if she really cares." I could say that this hand sanitize-r was the only interesting object I could trample with.

"Skipping classes is not a very good hobby though." Sincerity was one thing I always wanted to see in other people's eyes. Not really the hazel color or the long and curly eyelashes that this boy had, but maybe something different. Oh, I know.

"The bell rang and you're a hypocrite." Running my fingers through my hair was my, uhm, some kind of weird mannerism when encountering alien-like schoolmates. It's not like I planned who they were, but they just come and this shit happens.

He shrugged and I concluded that he used a $50 toothpaste. Gosh, I wanted to have pearly white teeth. I remembered how I brushed them too hard and I literally coughed blood for three minutes. "Well, I didn't say that you cannot skip classes." We both laughed and then it was awkward.

"So, this 'design-your-own-cube-home-and-predict-the-future-architectural-trend' thing..." I had an attempt to start a new conversation and yes, I was desperately begging the gods above to make this work.

I was glad he took the bait and said, "Ah, yeah, we'll give out a hundred dollars as a prize and a secret item." It was funny how we didn't move out the corridor near the comfort room, unafraid of the janitors that might report us to the faculty members and suspend us for three days.

"I'm more interested in the secret item than the hundred dollars, if you'd ask me."

"That's natural for a Collins, if you'd ask me," he said copying the same tone I did.

See, I didn't know him and he didn't know me, but he knew about the Collins. That was how the world revolved. It didn't actually mean that I was a Collins I had to be a rich kid and I wouldn't care about a hundred dollars. I had my needs too and Mom wouldn't even buy me a car unless I pass my midterm exams.

"I wouldn't really like it if a guy wearing hazel contact lens mimic me." He started walking towards only-a-hermit-would-know-where place. I was a company, maybe, I thought so and I just assumed it when I walked right beside him.

"I wouldn't really like it if a girl looking up to me literally, would not know that my eyes are naturally blue." We strolled like the hallways were the sidewalk in a park and the lockers were the flowers and the stickers on them were the bees.

"Meet me at Starbucks after school. I'll teach you how to sketch your house." Then he just...disappeared. It wasn't like he teleport-ed somewhere like instantly he was in their classroom. He dashed through the pathways and enjoyed his first time skipping classes. If you were a certified class-skipper, you could recognize who were the new ones and the professional ones. Well, I guessed smart kids had it difficult too. You weren't allowed by your parents to do anything that could let your grades go down because it was the only thing that you and they hang to. You couldn't slack because everyone would wonder and it wouldn't suit you.

It wasn't you who decided all of that. It wasn't you who wanted your future written by the people around just because you had the talent to do so. It was the world that judged you.

Am I right, Mr. Top Student? Or should I say, Von Michel?