“The world’s a stage and all the men and women are merely players” Mr. Couver said as he explains the poetical genius mind of William Shakesphere in an entusiastic tone while lifting both his arms flattering over the sea of students trying to resist the overpowering boredom keeping their eyes from closing, and of course many lost their losing battle. I grabbed my pants as it vibrates from my phone helping me with my fight.
Tim: Yo! Dude, still up for later’s rock and roll? Bet you’re already finished reviewing for tommorrow’s exam, you GC douche.
I put my phone back in my pocket as Mr. Couver explains Edgar Allan Poe’s parts of a plot: beginning, narrative, risng conflict, climax and resolution of which can be anti-climactic where the protagonist does something futile and ends in a tragic boom; or end all of a sudden as a cliff hanger. Most people find literature cheesy and mushy and at the same time a good way to hook up with girls for gags, but not me. I mean I’m just the typical guy with no sense of fashion, always wearing denim pants and whatever shirt I grabbed from this little wooden cabinet of mine.
I rushed to the labatory after one and a half hour of poetry and rhymes from the 16th century to get myself fixed for the party at center. My thumbs whipped my slightly curly black hair as hot men do in fictional comedy movies, and of course I know I am not “hot” as them, making the girls faint in over stimulated hormones. My phone rings again as i pull my shirt just over my back making me look like the hunchback of notradame, “I think I should go to the gym” I said as I look at my reflection portraying a skinny mexican boy with chiseled rib cage and collar bone. The phone stopped its earthquake as I was about to reach into my pocket, its was Tim.
“Hey man, hurry-up you’re not my girlfriend you know. And it sucks! I don’t have one.”
After getting in my blue-white ombre denim polo (just to clarify I’m not trying to impress someone, just dressed for the occation) I left the room, head to my locker, place my notes and slammed it shut. I walked a few steps and heard falling blocks of books from where i was standing before. I ran and reached for my stuff that fell from the broken locker and bumped my head to something or rather someone. “Ouch” she said as she pat her head which hit mine, “I was trying to help you Mr. Andreu and yet you repay me by bumping my head.” Aica Valentine said with her cold yet perky voice. “I’m pretty sorry” I muttered as I hurriedly placed all things to where it should be in the unlocked locker,
“I have to go” I said as I ran to the parking lot just outside the hall way,
“see..” I didn’t heard what she said after I awkwardly ran from her.
I saw this bulked up alpha guy wearing white shirt and skinny black denim, it was tim and his clean trimmed mohawk waiting for me in his motorcycle with fogged shades. Tim is kinda my best buddy, like my elder brother or something. He studies agriculture majoring in seed technology while I study biotechnology in the same cluster. We met in my first year, he invited me for soccer as it rained; I played i’m already soaked anyways; and since then we are an unstoppable team. Many people say i’m his sidekick or something but he always reply that I’m a good guy and that i’m his little brother.
I jumped in the motorcycle and clasp both my arms to the metal bar behind its angled seat. “What tooked you so long? I still have to set up you know” he teased as he sees me blushing as if he knew what happend with the locker. I rolled my eyes and didn’t speak for quite sometime until
“my locker broke, and—“ I said
“and what?” He interupted
“Aica” I murmured.
He teased me with his elbow clutching my stomach repeatedly while tilting his head towards me with a goofy yet annoying grin. The motorcycle roared as I tightened my grip on the metal bars thinking of what ifs—Tim broke the silence by saying “Dude! Stop blushing, it’s getting gay-er by the moment and pervy at the same time” in a mocking low voice. What can I do? I cannot stop being a teenager, can I?
