The Colours We Give | On hold

| 11 |

arashi

MY EYES FIGHT TO STAY OPEN during Physics class. Although I had slept quite well last night, Mrs. Oley's lecture compels you to doze off. It's horrible that my Physics class has to be in the morning. It makes me feel drowsy for most of the part of the following classes. 

Nash, who's sitting beside me, pinches the skin above my elbow. I throw him a look. He laughs, and then imitates the way my eyelids kept drooping. It makes him look like a zombie, and that makes me realize I'd be no better. I roll my eyes at him and continue to stare at the a Thermodynamics equation scribbled on the blackboard.

My eyes begin to fall again, and I suddenly let out a yawn. A really tiny voice escapes with it. Nash laughs at the squeak, covering his not just his mouth but his entire face. I look around to see if anyone else heard it, but no one seems like they have. I laugh along with him this time.

The bell rings five minutes early. The entire class is beyond happy, and they immediately head out, not caring about Mrs. Oley who keeps shouting that there's still five minutes left. Nash and I take this chance to leave quickly before the teacher forces us to stay in. 

"How do you stay awake?" I ask Nash. He looks more than awake during class; he looks energetic.

"I have insomnia," he states, as-a-matter-of-factly.

I look at him. "Yeah?"

"No," he says, looking at me weirdly. "Don't believe people so easily, Ara."

"Shi," I complete for him. I don't like the nickname he made for me.

"You called me dim flashlight boy, and I can't call you Ara?" he sighs. "What a corrupted world."

I roll my eyes. A few days ago I'd revealed that I called him dim flashlight boy. He looked very offended, so I apologized for that over and over, but he insisted on calling me Ara ever since. On the bright side for me, it's still a name and not a random object.

I see Tassel walk out of AP Biology. Her bag hangs on one shoulder. She stops to keep her textbook in the bag, pouting as she does so. Her lips are quite small so the pout is small too. It makes her look like a penguin soft toy I owned back when I was in elementary school. Pingu, I remember. From the cartoon.

"Hey!" she shouts, suddenly looking at us. Both Nash and I wave.

"Yo, Tassel!" Nash calls out. I'm not surprised he knows her. He knows everyone; from Freshmen to Seniors. And they sort of know him too. In the weirdest way, Nash is actually a popular person. A popular, positively-known outcast.

She walks over to us. "Long time no talk," she says, and then they dap. This kind of surprises me though, because I've never seen Tassel really touch and greet anyone before. Not even Lance. 

"Right," replies Nash. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Tassel nods. "It's crazy how we don't have a single common class this year when last year we had three."

No wonder they're close. If you put two friendly people in three classes together and not get a good relationship out of them, there's something seriously wrong.

Nash agrees. "Maybe the teachers couldn't put up with our energy. Especially Letterhead."

"No lie," Tassel grins widely. "You literally set your lab coat on fire while lighting up the bunsen burner."