Cherophobia

CHAPTER ONE: School

I stopped reading my diary and closed it because I don't want to remember anything from the past. It will just make me break my heart for how many times.

I made a deep sigh and return the diary to my locker. It's now the time to my next class, which is creative writing.

I have to hurry because being late to this class is not a good idea. Our teacher is one of the terror and the bitter person I've ever met.

Bitter. Just like me.

With a lower head, I started walking to my next room. I don't want to see other students passing beside me.
It just made me feel small and isolated.

Well, I am already.
I did it by myself.

I am now on my 12th grade and striving to finish school. It's not that I'm dull but I don't know why the heck I'm studying. There's no reason at all.

You're not inspired Malala.

Maybe.

I shrugged and entered the class. Good that the teacher is not here yet.

I brought myself to the back and the last chair unoccupied.

I was just like a smoke passing to my classmates' attention. They don't mind me at all, that's good.

After a minute, the teacher entered the room and everyone fall into silence.

"Good day everyone." She said in a sophisticated tone.

As a tradition and a sign of respect, we all stand and greet her the same way.

"Please be seated. Yesterday, I told you to bring a fancy paper. Did you bring what I said?" She asked seriously and we immediately do our nods.

"Since this week, we discussed about poem, you shall make a poem, any theme, style or whatever you had learned in our lesson. Got it?" She said leaving us no choice but to say, "Ok Ma'am."

What okay Malala? Is it really okay for you?

No choice, I have to learn in order to get back what I own.

"Before that, you have a new classmate. Come here and introduce yourself."

We stopped doing our stuff when an Asian boy popped in front of us.

"Hi everyone! I am Reagan Navarro and I came from the Philippines. It's nice to be here so I hope that I can get along with you guys." He said and smiled sweetly.

Good for him. He can smile that way. I also used to smile back then.

Back then, not now.

I startled when someone occupied the space beside me.

My eyes widened when I realized that it was Reagan who sat beside me.

"Hi, I'm Reagan, and you are?" He offered his hand and revealed his all-white perfect set of teeth.

"Malala. Malala Olsen." I introduced.

"Malala'?" He mispronounced my name and I don't like how he say it.

"Auggh! It's Ma-la-la, simple as that." I gave him a deadpan look and turned back my attention to what I am doing.

"Are we going to write a poem Malala?" He suddenly asked.

"Yeah, so you better shut your mouth and start writing. We have only 40 minutes left." I rolled my eyes at him.

"Can you give me a piece of paper?"

My left eyebrow arched at his statement. "You went studying without paper? Are you nuts?"

Instead of being offended, he still manage to give me a grin.

"In my former school, bringing paper is not our thing. We will just beg from our classmate then he'll just give. In a class, there will always be a paper supplier." He chuckled as he remembered their style.

"Well this is States not Philippines. If you don't have a paper, you will fail to submit."

He pouted his lips and shook his head. "Selfish style. If you don't have, learn to ask and you'll be given. If you have something too much for you, learn to give. That's life!

I was taken back to what he just had said.