Mirrors

Four

AFTER AN EXCRUCIATING experience from the first and second subjects, the bell finally rang. Stephen and I made a beeline straight to the cafeteria, occasionally stopping because some freshmen asked us for directions. As if we're not one.

"You think they're already there?" I asked.

"We're about to find out." Stephen opens the door to the cafeteria and true enough; it filled with many college students.

Unlike high school, the groups here were more subtle. You cannot really figure out which one is which, making it hard to see the stereotypes: but not impossible. My group has been feeding on stereotypes for years in high school keeping our business alive. We will not stumble here.

We stood at the door for a minute or so, searching for our friends' table. The cafeteria was enormous, accompanied by big wide windows draped with red curtains that smell like roses, which are probably fresh from the laundry. Tons of red tables placed inside, most of them occupied.

I was about to tell Stephen that maybe we got in the wrong one, even though there's only one cafeteria when one boy from the corner of the cafeteria stood up and waved his tray to us.

Ian was wearing a gray Nike vintage sweater, black Jeans, and an Air force 1. "Over here, fuckers" he whisper-shout, while hand combing his short hair. The act, Ian did, made a lot of students glance in our way. Making our long walk to our friends' table embarrassing.

"Way to go, prince charming," Stephen annoyingly said. I sat down beside Pen and was about to scold Ian for being an idiot, but I know there is no use. Ian was already smiling at a girl at the next table and nodded to her before sitting down.

"So, shall we start?" Lucas nonchalantly said. Lucas is our poker-faced tech-savvy person. He's the one who is responsible for all our online transactions. The eyes and the connector between us and the costumers, making our business safe and incognito.

Stephen and I met Lucas back in eighth grade. We caught him downloading the answer sheet from the principal's office the night before our final exam. Stephen's phone was confiscated that morning and we decided to break in at dusk; accidentally witnessing Lucas' mischief. Since then, we sort-of blacked mailed him to be our friend.

"Should we?" Lucas repeated, this time with a knowing look. "I mean, we only have half an hour."

"We can't. Reese is not here yet," Bruce, sighed. "Besides, Chris just got dumped last night," he said with a smirk plastered on his face. "You want to talk about it, buddy?"

I forgot that besides being our academic person who provides educational services (assignments or papers for Math, English, and Science.) Bruce is also the boyfriend of my girlfriend's—ex-girlfriend's friend.

"You better shut your mouth, Edith Hamilton." I snarled. The comment was enough to shut him up.

Back in the ninth grade, while I was searching for references for my project, I heard voices from the literary section of our library. "Electrocute me, Zeus! Give me your majestic thunderbolts!" I tried to sneak a peek and there he was, our student body, ninth grade auditor, Bruce Khan; banging our main cheerleader under the Greek Literary section, with a Mythology book on his hand, written by Edith Hamilton.

"Come on, man. We just want to know how are you holding up and why on earth did she break up with you?" Ian asked.

I thought that the first day of school will be enough to take my mind off her, but boy am I wrong.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I said pathetically. Of course, I know that I can trust these people, but I just do not know if I am ready to remember every detail again. I know that they are confused about our break up, but so am I.

I sighed, "I don't know, boys. I thought we were doing fine. I mean, sure, we fight and all, but isn't that normal? And what the fuck does 'choosing herself' even means? I rarely stop her from doing what she wants." I tried to keep my emotion checked, but the reality that we are over hurts so bad.

"Well," Pen patted my back, "women are complicated." He was about to say something else, but he was cut short by a voice behind us.

"And men are trash. So, are we just going to mope around or are we going to talk business?" Reese, the only woman in our circle, as usual, pulled us back to reality.

I took a deep breath and composed myself. "Let's do this." Everyone suddenly got serious and stared at me, waiting for what is next. "We're going to conquer this school and leave a mark in four years."