Days of May

Three Years Prior to May

The noise inside the classroom is infuriating and childish.

Macy has 18 girl classmates and 2 boys. One a gay, the other one, she's not so sure.

She scoots lower in her armchair, willing the hands of the clock to move faster. Break time would mean she can finally get out of the noisy room.

She hates her classmates' irritating screams and laugh. They're already college students and should be leaving the air of 'just graduated out of high school.' She is trying her best to look mature, so the seniors would respect her and leave her out of their line of sight. One of the irregular students looked at her earlier, a second year, and she slumped in her chair, pretending to read something from her phone. Her posture practically screamed I'm not one of them! The irregular student either got the message, or simply didn't care, for she looked away and stared at her desk.

The professor is late and Macy is fighting the urge to sleep.

One of her classmates suddenly squeals and she opens her eyes, her brain halfway to dreamland. From the farthest chair to the back, she glances to the doorway. Her other classmates are crowding something at the entrance. No, crowding someone.

"Cool! So you're part of our big family now!" The girl who squealed exclaims. The others cheer.

"I heard you're a singer! So, we actually have a singer in our class now! Yeah!"

Honestly, why are they so loud? Macy thought.

Eventually, the little scene dissipates and the others go back to their seats. Half of the girls are now oggling at the new classmate. Macy tries a glimpse.

He is a tall human being. His hair looks a little curly. He has wire-rimmed eyeglasses. He has a shy, humble smile plastered on his face. He looks like a typical student to her, nothing like a celeb. So, why fuss over him so much?

She's starting to despise everything, little by little. The old-looking room. The uncomfortable plastic armchairs. The sideway glances of irregular students. The incredibly immature classmates. The late professsor.

The visible scar on the forehead of the new guy.

Is it Ash Wednesday? Or he really has a scar on his forehead?

She tries to get a better look at it but the girls who are interviewing him are blocking her sight. There's no way around it, so she gets back to staring at her cellphone.

Anyway, I'll confirm it as days go by, she thought to herself.

Later in the afternoon, on her way home, she stares at the bus windows, thinking about how her new classmate somehow looks like Harry Potter.

---