Monday, August 23rd
Mood: Tired
8:39 AM
Bus
So I was slurping up my usual bowl of cereal, trying to finish a book report on Walden—a summer assignment that I hadn't even known existed until 3 AM this morning—and clearly needing some alone time. Which of course meant that my mom had to choose that exact moment to sit herself down right across from me and start interrogating me on my future career choices.
Although, now that I think of it, I'm not really sure what I expected. She does this every single day.
I would take my breakfast out and eat it at the bus stop just to avoid partaking in these conversations, but then I wouldn't get to eat my Honey Nut Cheerios. A shame, really, because those are probably the only two things I am not terrible at.
List of Things I Am Not Terrible At
1. Speed eating, especially after hitting the snooze button three times too many and being potentially late for important events like the first day of school. And especially when it concerns Honey Nut Cheerios.
2. Avoiding things like responsibility, my future prospects, and washing dishes. And guys who I've completely humiliated myself in front of, but that's a story for later. Maybe.
"Ten," she said slowly, curiously, like she hadn't done the exact same thing the day before, and the day before that. "What're you going to do with your life? Have you thought of a future job yet? You know I support your decisions, but it wouldn't hurt to speed up the process."
"I'm going to take over the shop," I answered for the umpteenth time. A soggy Cheerio shot out of my mouth and gracefully arced out of sight.
My mom followed its downward trajectory, grimacing. Her nose wrinkled rather unattractively as she did so, and I made a note to watch my own facial expressions. (I've been told my mom and I are mirror images, something that pleases her and offends me.) "No," she said with an air of finality. "You're not."
I rolled my eyes. "What happened to 'I support your decisions?'"
"Stop changing the subject, Ten. What are you going to do?"
"Why can't I take over the shop?"
"I don't need you to take over the shop. I'm still alive."
"Not for long," I said darkly.
I'm pretty sure there's still a mark from where she whacked me on the forehead.
9:16 AM
Mood: Daring
Homeroom
It's been 16 minutes since the bell, and our teacher still isn't here. Isn't there some rule about being able to leave if a teacher's more than fifteen minutes late? Or does that only apply to college students?
Technicalities. I'm a junior; college is only two years away. I'm leaving.
9:22 AM
Mood: Suffice it to say, I am utterly humiliated
Homeroom
Okay, so I didn't leave on account of the fact that I am a gutless coward who often lies to everyone, including herself. But not intentionally. Not really.
After finishing that last entry, I got up, slinging my backpack over the shoulder, intending to step outside and check if the coast was clear of any stray teachers. The moment I stepped foot outside, none other than PRINCIPAL TSUNADE turned the corner.
I immediately froze under her patented Glare of Doom.
"And where are you going, Tenten?"
See, I never know where I stand with Tsunade. She has crazy mood swings; sometimes, she's the coolest adult I know. Case in point: one time my freshman year, I got caught trying to skive off my biology teacher (and our school's resident pervert) Jiraiya's reproductive lecture, which I'd heard from older girls was the most uncomfortable misery they'd ever experienced in their lives. I got sent to Tsunade's office, and to my utmost surprise, she sat me down on the couch, got me a can of cream soda from her mini-freezer—yes, that exists—and, for the rest of the period, we discussed how immature and lecherous Jiraiya can be. Another time, though, she gave me detention for "loitering" in the halls while I was waiting for my friend Lee. (Word is that she's got a stash of booze in her office and likes to assign detentions arbitrarily to moderate her own occasional hangover-induced suffering.)
Anyway, I said: "Nowhere."
Tsunade just stared at me, amber eyes flashing as she waited for a more satisfactory answer.
"The bathroom," I tried again.
"I'm sure. Where's your—" Her eyes snapped to something right off my left shoulder before she groaned. "I am going to murder that man."
I spun around. She was glaring at a plaque, inscribed with the classroom number and a name. A101, Hatake. "Mr. Hatake? I don't know where he is."
"Your teacher," she growled, "is a lazy, incompetent—"
At this point, her words degenerated into a string of barely audible swear words.
My eyes widening by the second, I opened my stupid mouth and asked her possibly the most idiotic question I have ever asked in my entire seventeen years of existence: "Are you allowed to say that?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You little brat, I'm the principal."
I nodded quickly, conceding the point. "Then couldn't you just fire Mr. Hatake?"
"You think I haven't—"She stopped and stared at me strangely, her mouth slightly open. After a while, she closed it. "I actually haven't thought about that. Years and years of putting up with his miserable existence and to think that I didn't even consider firing him!"
"Um," I interrupted worriedly. "Let's not get too hasty here." Because what if I had just accidentally cost poor Mr. Hatake his job? What if he had a family to provide for? What if he had two adorable first grade daughters to feed and therefore had to slave away at a low-paying job as a high school teacher of who-knows-what, working long hours in place of quality family time because he had a comatose wife and was the sole breadwinner of the family?
All that, just because of my fat mouth.
"No," Tsunade said, the evil grin on her face making me feel queasy. "You're right. Kid, you're right."
"I'm not right," I backtracked. "Not—no. Really wrong, really, really, wrong. I don't know what I'm saying half the time. Listening to me is a bad idea, Principal Tsunade. Truly. No one ever listens to me. I swear."
She waved it off, not even listening to me, and shooed me back into the classroom, where every single person was staring at me, probably having heard everything I said outside. I mean, we weren't exactly being quiet.
As I slid back into my seat, my friend Hinata, this really quiet, pale-skinned girl with light eyes and hair so dark it's almost blue, patted me on the shoulder and told me it wasn't that bad. Which of course, was sweet and all, as Hinata always is, but only reinforced how bad the situation really was.
I can see my other friend Ino cackling all the way across the room and feel the urge to run over there and wring her stupidly pretty neck.
But that will have to wait, as I am about to implode from guilt. And humiliation, definitely humiliation.
9:24 AM
Mood: Sinking
Homeroom
I kid you not, Neji, the very last person I wanted to see, just walked into class, made three-second eye contact with me (his eyes even more terrifying than they usually are, which is saying a lot considering their color is already so freakishly light it's almost white), grabbed his stuff from his desk (two seats away from mine) and proceeded to sit in farthest corner of the room, next to Naruto Uzumaki, who I know he can't stand 99% of the time.
Which, coupled with the fact that this morning, he sat in the front of the bus next to Hinata, his cousin, instead of our usual seat by the emergency exit, can only mean that he is avoiding me.
I mean, it's not the greatest feeling, to have your best friend, someone who is frighteningly efficient and doesn't see the point in beating around the bush, blatantly go out of his way to ignore you, but that's okay. I don't want to talk about The Incident either.
9:26 AM
Mood: Embarrassed
Homeroom
H-Really, Tenten, it wasn't that bad.
S-I thought we were being honest. Right now, the best you can hope for is Tsunade drinking herself into a coma and miraculously forgetting everything you said. Or that she relieves Mr. Hatake of his job tactfully and doesn't mention you at all. But then again, everyone in class heard you—you were pretty loud.
T-Hinata, you're a doll. Sakura, go jump off a cliff.
S-Well, in your own words, "no one listens to what you say." Plus, you love me.
Sigh. Sakura, despite her annoying tell-it-like-it-is syndrome, is still one of my closest friends. I haven't known her as long as I have Hinata, on account of Hinata being Neji's family, but I know her pretty well. A little too well.
We met in 8th grade, when she told me that I looked like a boy in my hoodie and sweatpants. I congratulated her on her impeccable rendering of a Truffula tree, what with that ridiculous mop of cotton candy pink hair sitting atop her abnormally large forehead.
Needless to say, we became great friends after that.
No, seriously.
T-The only reason why you, as of now, are still alive.
Someone hands me a badly folded piece of notebook paper. I am met with Ino's bubbly handwriting.
Ino is the stereotypical It Girl. Blond hair, blue eyes, long legs, an actual fashion sense. She's a cheerleader, but she, while certainly capable of being as obnoxiously loud as the best of them, is a lot more likable. Ino's also very smart when she actually tries and doesn't have one of the many guys vying for her attention do her homework for her.
She also has this unhealthy obsession with me and Neji as an item, which is more than a little weird. And, probably, more than a little awkward considering how things are between us now.
I-What's up! Are we making fun of Tenten? Because I'm so ready.
Unbelievable. Ino, even all the way across the room, can somehow still manage to harass me. I scrawl in all-caps, GO AWAY INO, over her cheerful letters, refashion the paper into a sleek paper missile and take aim.
It hits her square in the forehead. She scowls at me and I beam. I have pretty good aim, if I do say so myself. I add it to my List.
List of Things I Am Not Terrible At
1. Speed eating
2. Avoiding things
3. Accurately throwing things
The paper airplane flies back almost immediately. Only this time, it hits a guy two rows in front of me, the one with the stringy black hair who incessantly drums his fingers along the surface of his desk even after multiple people have told him to shut the hell up.
Ino can be a pain, but she occasionally is of some use.
I-Oh my God. Look.
I read Ino's note and gulp. Someone is walking through the doors. I can see the standard loafers and black dress pants, but I refuse to lift my head in fear of accidentally looking him in the eye.
Oh—
9:28 AM
Mood: Stupid
Homeroom
We're all idiots. It's Kakashi. Like, Kakashi Hatake. Gai's Kakashi.
Gai is the owner of the local dojo, where I've been training in martial arts since the age of seven. Karate, judo—there's a bit of everything. The dojo is where I met most of the people whom I hang out with now. Ino, Hinata, Sakura, Naruto, Lee, Shikamaru, Chouji, Neji—come to think of it, most of them are in my homeroom, which is probably not a coincidence.
Kakashi is (or used to be, I'm not sure) an instructor at the dojo, and is Gai's "eternal rival" (it's a nonconsensual relationship) whom he never shuts up about.
Now, remembering all this, it's no wonder he's so late. Kakashi is chronically tardy; he used to be so late to practice he just didn't show up. I don't think I've seen him and his gravity-defying head of silver hair in years.
He still has that weird mask over half his face, too. I wonder what that's about.
9:35 AM
Mood: Slightly less guilty
Pre-Calculus
So last period, Kakashi basically just walked in, introduced himself, handed out our schedules, and the bell rang.
"Well, kids, looks like we're out of time," he said, before leaving.
Eight words.
You know what, maybe I don't feel so bad about possibly getting him fired after all.
9:40 AM
Mood: Dreading
Hallway
We're in line to get our textbooks and I can already tell this is going to be an awful year.
Reasons Why Junior Year Can Only Be Equated With Hell
The box of Pre-Cal textbooks is being lugged out by no less than seven office aides. Each book looks heavy enough to shatter bone if dropped on an unfortunate toe, and we all know it's only a matter of time before that lands me in the hospital.
First day and I've already questioned the principal's authority and may have ruined Kakashi's life in the same breath (never mind that he might deserve it).
My best friend is still not speaking to me. Neji isn't in my class, obviously, seeing as he aced AP Calculus his sophomore year and is now in 2nd year college math, but I'm sure he'd be ignoring me if he was here.
The classes. I mean, just look at my schedule.
0 Homeroom 9:00-9:30
1 Pre-Calculus 9:34-10:34
2 AP French- 10:38-11:38
3 AP Bio-11:42-12:42
4 AP English-12:46-1:56
D LUNCH: 2:00-2:30
5 Drill team 2:34-3:34
6 AP US History 3:38-4:38
None of that looks remotely exciting. Especially not the D lunch part. Who eats lunch at two o'clock in the afternoon?
Voluntarily, I mean.
10:38 AM
Mood: Unsure
French
This is a pitiful turnout. There is a total of seven people in this class, and six are from other schools.
I can't be the only Konoha High kid taking French! I was in a class of twenty last year. Did everyone else just agree to drop together? Did I just not get the memo?
10:45 AM
Mood: EXCITED
French
I was wrong. There aren't seven people in this class. There is a grand total of EIGHT. Who is this eighth person, you might ask?
It's SASUKE UCHIHA.
He just stalked into class, two minutes late and completely unruffled. After giving a cursory glance around the class, he obviously recognized me and slid into the desk next to mine.
I'm still internally rejoicing. Yes, Sasuke's a sophomore and doesn't really talk much, but he's really cute. I've known him for a while, as we both go to the same dojo, and were in the same French III class last year, but we've never really talked. I've kind of had a little crush—shallow, I know, but still—on him for a while.
I'm definitely not the only one who thinks he's good-looking; he's got a lot of insane fangirls, something I don't begrudge him for one bit. So it's pretty incredible that he knows my name and wants to sit by me.
Even though, uh, I was probably the only familiar face.
That's inconsequential, though.
11:00 AM
Mood: Still excited, but now a bit hungrier
French
Now I know my crush is not completely based on his swoonworthiness (rereading that phrase, even I am slightly disgusted by how girly that sounded. Ino would be proud.); Sasuke's a very good listener. Kind of like… Um, never mind.
Other than the fact that he seems so serious all the time and doesn't really initiate conversation, I think we mesh pretty well. We're working on one of those icebreaker activities. Like, you interview your partner and you introduce him to the class later on, only in French.
I should be preparing for that, but how am I supposed to concentrate when I've just realized we also have next period (and possibly even more!) together?
I told him so, and he asked if I wanted to be lab partners! I may be somewhat of a tomboy, but it is well within my rights to be a girl when I feel like it.
11:09 AM
Mood: Contemplative
French
Sasuke Uchiha is nothing like I'd imagined.
For one, he's indisputably awful at French. It took an incalculable amount of effort not to laugh even as he talked about my likes and dislikes (at least he knows them now!), but I managed.
At last, an imperfection. It was bound to happen.
2:20 PM
Mood: Ravenous
Courtyard
Number of times I got told to watch where I was going: 6
Number of times I got elbowed in the gut: 24
Number of dirty looks sent my way: 39
Number of lockers that slammed into my face as I was passing through: 2
This is ridiculous. They say they're giving us half an hour for lunch break, but that is a LIE. By the time I squeezed myself out of the congested hallways—they're insane around midday hours—it was already 2:12. Why even try?
That's why I'm sitting here right now, eating Hinata's apple. I feel kind of bad for mooching off her food, but not bad enough to not eat it. Besides, her family's super loaded, so she's got a maid who always overpacks her lunch. Besides, I'm so, so hungry, and when you're starving, there's no room for morals.
Naruto's sidled up to Sasuke (who, unbelievably, also has this lunch) and is currently pestering him in the uniquely Naruto way. The two of them go way back; they're childhood best friends and, even though they have clashing personalities and logically should hate each other, they have this unique bromance that everyone knows not to question. It's quite endearing, actually.
3:29 PM
Mood: Indescribably bad
Dance Locker Room
Well. That, well. I suppose I had it coming.
I don't know why I tried out for our school's dance team. Honestly, I don't. I'm not particularly good at dance. Good enough to make the team, yes, but I'm one of the worst ones there.
Not in terms of technique. It's just, for some reason, I can't pick up the choreography fast enough. Like, I'll be fine while learning moves but forget everything within a couple minutes. I don't know if I'm having trouble focusing or if I'm just overthinking the process or if it's something else I haven't yet considered.
The ten of us new girls, the rookies, had to dance alone in front of the rest of the team for some unknown reason (I suspect it was mostly to watch us suffer). Because I'm taller, I was set in the middle, and there was nowhere to hide.
The music began, and I blanked out. Pretty sure it was the most humiliating moment of my life, just standing there, halfheartedly motioning through steps with the most uncomfortable expression frozen on my features.
I can feel my mind already beginning to suppress the memory.
3:32 PM
Mood: Worse
Dance Locker Room
"Well, you're smart," some girl said, probably meaning it as a compliment. Like, "you couldn't keep up but at least you've got something going for you."
I wanted to cry. Because no. No. I'm not smart. My be Neji is smart. I'm passable.
It's not like any of these girls are mean, on the surface at least. They're all trying, even if it isn't working, to make me feel better. But I've struggled with feelings of inadequacy for as long as I can remember, and I don't think I can deal with one more thing that I'm terrible at.
Which brings me to the obvious question again: why did I sign myself up for this? I'm trying to remember my reasoning.
I suppose I just wanted to try something different, something none of my friends were doing. It seemed cool. Dancing, I mean. A lot of fun.
I can already see how this is going to go, though. I'm not the type of person who can just shake everything off and be unapologetically herself. Once I start feeling inadequate about something, I can never really let it go; it just hangs in the back of my mind as a permanent reminder. I won't be able to have the fun I signed up for, because I'll always feel not good enough to interact with my teammates.
Stupid, I'm fully aware. I know these feelings are completely self-inflicted and probably way overblown, that any isolation I will inevitably feel from now on will be completely my own fault and no one else's. But awareness of the pointlessness of the way my mind works won't make it go away.
… I just reread that last paragraph. Wow, for all of our sakes, I'm going to stop writing before I descend deeper into the maw of angsty self-pity.
7:00 PM
Mood: Cathartic
Dojo
There's really nothing like a good long session in the weapons room sticking a life-size dummy with 108 newly sharpened kunai, one for every vital point, to release all the tension and stress of school.
You can call me insane. I probably deserve it.
I feel a lot better now. Admittedly, the impressed whistles from passersby inflating my ego had a lot to do with it, but still. This is where I belong. I'm at peace here, and I'm actually good at what I do.
What's the point of trying new things that only increase my chance of failure when I've already found success in the old? I've got nearly 100% accuracy. What better measure of success is there?
I've decided. We can still get schedule changes out of athletics at the beginning of the school year if it's instructor-approved. Our dance team instructor's pretty terrifying, but I don't think she'll argue with me if I want to quit.
I mean, she was there when I… yeah.
9:29 PM
Mood: ?
Room
I've been staring at this journal for the past ten minutes, trying to figure out where to even start.
… I guess that's a good a start as it's going to get.
All right. On the bright side, I finally talked to Neji.
On the dark (?) side, it wasn't exactly talking. Not even close.
So around eight, some time after I'd finished the dojo entry, I caught sight of Neji packing up in the room next door. He'd been especially brutal in class—yes, Neji, along with being an all-around genius in academics is also athletically gifted. He's the youngest instructor at our dojo. Where is the justice?—and looked like he would murder anyone who dared talk to him.
Naturally, I, being Tenten, went to go talk to him. I figured it had been long enough—we've never gone without talking for so long.
So I hurriedly gathered up my things and tried to catch up to him at the door. "Neji!" I called. "Hey, wait up."
He proceeded to push open the front door like he hadn't heard me, but his shoulders stiffened a bit.
Blurting a quick goodbye to Gai, who was sitting at the reception desk watching us with a strange expression, I all but flew out the door after Neji, my heavy backpack knocking against my legs with the approximate force of a barrage of Gai's infamous roundhouse kicks.
"Neji," I yelled, this time louder as my irritation levels at being so blatantly ignored rose. "I'm not stupid. There's no way you can't hear—"
I tripped on something (a rock?) and promptly fell face-first into the dirt. I normally would've rolled out of it, but I was exhausted after a long day and the stupid backpack wasn't helping matters.
This time Neji did look back. He stood there, evidently fighting with himself over whether to swallow his pride and help me up or to get chewed out for not doing it later.
Fortunately for him, he was spared from having to make such an impossible decision. I wriggled out of the backpack's straps, which had twisted around my neck in the fall, and stood, wiping dried gravel from my pants.
Inspecting myself for injuries, I found a small elbow scrape to be disinfected later, but nothing too serious.
Neji had since continued on his way.
I knew we were ignoring each other and all, but that, I don't know, might have hurt a little. So, because nothing else had worked so far and I was feeling slighted and, evidently, completely out of my mind, I shouted: "Too afraid to talk to me?" A shuddering breath. "Is that what this is, you coward?"
Or something along those lines.
He spun around, like I'd known he would, but when he stalked back to where I was still standing, I began to question the soundness of my decision to confront him.
Because he was angry. So, so angry. In all the years I'd known him, I'd only once before seen him like this. And that time, it was terrifying enough even when his anger wasn't directed at me.
Now it was.
It pains me a little to admit this, but at that moment, I was the one who was afraid. Neji'd always been the pinnacle of composure and control, but then he looked absolutely wild. I shrank back slightly upon sight of his verging-on-murderous expression and as he towered over me somehow—dimly I remembered he was only half a head taller than I was. "Coward?" He hissed, untamed dark hair billowing ominously above his shoulders. "Are you kidding me?"
"Um," was all I managed to squeak.
His eyes, narrowed to slits, bore intensely into mine. "You know what," he said, still in that dangerously quiet tone. Neji, however mad he was, never raised his voice. "That's rich, coming from you."
"You are the most unobservant person I have ever met," Neji continued, "if you think I'm the one who's scared."
"Okay, that is uncalled for," I interjected nervously, trying in vain to lighten the mood. "What about Naruto?"
He considered this. "Naruto comes in a close second."
Now that was an insult. "How is that even possible?"
"You tell me." Seeing how I obviously couldn't respond to that, Neji rolled his eyes. "We will start from the beginning. On what basis are you hypocritically calling me a coward?"
He cut me off before I could object to his defamatory wording. "Just answer the question, Tenten."
Truth be told, I didn't even know anymore. "Uh, well, you've been avoiding me all day."
"Correct. But you have also been avoiding me up until this point. Ever since t—"
I immediately realized where this was going. He was going to talk about it. It. The Incident. Before I knew it, my bag was already in my hands and my knees bent, ready to bolt.
He hadn't moved at all. "What, so you intended for us to get back on speaking terms without actually speaking? Not a very well-thought-out plan."
"Well, we've already established that I never think before I do things," I muttered under my breath, slipping a shoulder into a strap.
Neji's eyes followed my movement, his eyes momentarily clouding over with something unreadable. We stood there for a long moment, deadlocked, before he eventually opened his mouth.
I wasn't ready. I'd blocked it out of my mind as best as I could and I could not afford to begin thinking about it now. Because if I did, I'd probably do something incorrigibly stupid like cry in front of him, something which I'd never done before and something I wasn't about to start doing now. "I can't, can we, can we not," I mumbled, my throat impossibly dry.
Neji let out a harsh laugh. "That is not how it works. The world does not turn at your convenience. You cannot expect everyone to play by your rules and force people to go at your astoundingly slow pace. That is a lot of effort, which is, frankly, something I do not want to expend any more of on you."
He was still watching me, waiting for me to respond.
I probably should have. Had something to say, I mean. Considering how I was the one who'd chased after him practically asking for a fight, I should have had a response. But my chest was aching and my mind was blank and so I did the only thing I knew how to do in this situation: I turned tail and ran.
"You are the one who is afraid," he called after me. "This is how you deal with everything! Something does not go how you expect it to and you run away from it."
… Well, I suppose the inevitable confrontation could have been worse.
Oh, who am I kidding?
2:59 AM
Mood: Well, evidently not sleeping.
Room
Ughhhhh. He's right, isn't he?
A/N: There you go! It's something new (also written in a 4-or-5-hour marathon. Yes, it took me that long.) and I'll decide if this goes anywhere based on its reception. Please tell me if you liked it or not! Reviews are the green outdoors to my bleary, abused eyes.
Aka feedback is very much appreciated and I will definitely get back to you if you leave me something. Oh, and reviews concerning chapter length, errors, and pairings are especially needed. Nothing is set in stone at this point.
