Chapter 1
"You're in my way."
I was high as fuck when he said this, completely unaware of my surroundings outside of my friends' faces. We were in school just hanging around between classes on lunch. Typically we sit in the lunchroom with our bigger friend group, but Beth had asked us to come talk privately with her outside the lunchroom. I just kept talking like an idiot there, standing. My humongous, bodacious ass took up too much space. I'm bigger, so yeah, I take up more room.
"I said you're in the way."
Ashley pointed. "Hey, I think you're blocking that guy's way."
I looked over my shoulder. He stood there with icy cold eyes just glaring underneath his brown bangs as if I'd killed someone in front of him. Apparently my bodacious ass had offended him somehow, and I took that personally.
"Oh, I'm sorry, my bad," I said, shuffling as much as I could to get out of the way. Like I said, I'm a bigger girl, plus size if you will, so it's harder for me to maneuver my body to get out of the way sometimes, especially with little space.
"You know I said it twice, right? Can you not hear?"
Damn, really? I thought. I said nothing. I just scorned him with daggers and pursed lips and let him roll his eyes and pass behind me. He wore the blue uniform Domino High forces the boys to wear and held a black book in his hand. I assumed he was an upper classman and as he passed me, I jabbed my eyes right into the back of his fucking mullet-styled head.
"What a fucking jerk. You want me to say something to him?" asked Beth, pulling back her black hair. Her blue eyes were narrowed. She, too, was a plus size girl, around my size. Beside her was my best friend Ashley.
"No," I grumbled. "It's not worth it. He's a waste of space anyway."
"You know you can push the TCB button." The TCB button was invented in freshman art class. You see, Beth is a crazy bitch. She'll say and do things you request within reason, defending her friends at all costs. She's liable to do just about anything to protect and serve her friends, as if she's in the military, and the TCB button is aptly named The Crazy Bitch button. And, as God intended, we press it when needed.
This guy was so useless it was not needed.
We heard the bell and sighed. Back to slave camp. I felt like a holocaust victim when it came to school. It confines me in its white padded room, and I just need freedom. I'm in my second semester junior year. I can smell freedom. It's right around the corner. The days on my fucking cell wall have tallied up, and now I'm almost to the other side of freedom. Did I mention freedom? Good.
I digress. I slung my black bag with little chibi Harajuku girls on it, the handle sporting colored black and white tiles, over my shoulder and walked to my locker. I grabbed my books and struggled to position my one red notebook on top of the other notebooks meant for classwork with practically no hands. Just a knee, a chin, a thumb, and one finger.
This notebook is my writing book. I'm an author at heart. I love to write, and I always tend to write stupid stories about me and my friends. I also write with my friends, but I feel they stifle my creativity. They've complained I use my characters too much; I think my characters are amazing, flawless. Especially Santania.
Santania is a demon I created back in Grade 9. I'm writing a series of books for my friends, and I created Santania. Subsequently, I fell in love with him as I created him. I, stupidly, write stories about us being together, eloping and all sorts of smut… It's really stupid, I know, but it means a lot to me. He's the protagonist in the stories I created for my friends with them inserted as characters. Needless to say, he's well-known by my friend's group. I keep a picture of him in my binder where I drew him anime-style, sporting his signature demon eye, a glossy red snake eye on his right side, underneath his long blonde hair. His other eye was blue.
Anyway, enough about all that nonsense. Let's get back to the story. Also please bear with me. I have ADHD, and my symptoms sometimes come out in my writing. Sorry if I ramble.
We split up, each heading to our classes. I hustled down the hall because I hated being late. It feels like when I'm late everything goes wrong, and I hate being in trouble, too. I'm known as the good kid in class, the one that pays attention, the one that has profound answers, and the one who pushes the boundaries. Secretly, I'm just a nobody who gets high all the time. That's basically about it.
I entered the room and took in the sight. Science lab. I was obtaining my biology credit for graduation. Posters of the periodic table, life cycle, and other really science-y things plastered the green walls. Off to the side, there were a group of boys and girls huddled around a desk. I couldn't tell what was going on over there, but it sounded like a Duel Monsters match. I just rolled my eyes and surveyed the area.
Lo and behold, it was him—the guy from earlier. I watched him peel his eyes from the book he read to peer over at the group before returning his gaze back to the black book. I gave him the gaze I plan on giving Satan when I'm roasting in Hell [mwah, nigga]. If that doesn't tell you how much I hate him, I'm not sure what will. One altercation is all I need to hold a grudge for years.
Regardless, I found a seat in his row in the very back. I shuffled my way over there, avoiding him all together and squeezing myself past. I began unpacking my bag and setting out my textbook. I peeked over at the group again, and as they slowly began dissipating, I saw a boy with spiky purple, black, and blonde hair facing a man with oddly-shaped dirty blonde hair. I glanced over to catch the spikey-haired kid smiling sheepishly while the blonde haired kid looked defeated. His cards fell everywhere.
I could barely make out what was being said. Straining because I'm a nosy bitch, I made out a few words and sentences.
"Alright, I admit defeat, Yuge," the blonde-haired kid stated. "But next time, I'll make sure you don't beat me!"
"Alright Joey!" said the spiky-haired kid. "What a good match! You've really improved!"
"Well it's all thanks to you!" the blonde kid's accent gave me a headache.
At that point, I just tuned them out by stuffing my face in my notebook, preparing to write the next chapter of my love story with Santania. This one was personal, so my friends wouldn't see it. I kept all my personal ones in my special notebook. I typically only wrote special stories over the summer and during holidays because I focused all my time on the stories I wrote with and for my friends. Nevertheless, I love writing personal stories of Santania and me together. I just blush.
I picked up my pencil and bit my lip. I read the last line of the paragraph.
He shrugged. "I honestly love you so much. You mean the world to me."
I grinned, mentally patting myself on the back. I'm such a good author, I thought, reading over my work with beaming eyes and a grin. I prided myself on my writing because of the effort I put into it. I may not be good at a lot of things, but I can bring words to life on paper. I can make you see through my eyes and peer into my mind and reveal both beautiful, fantastic, and ungodly, horrific things. That's the gift that comes with being an author.
That's when the teacher came into the room. He signaled that class was about to start, and so I put the notebook away and drew my attention to the front of the room. This was my first day of the second semester. I had been bombarded by new syllabuses, class rules, and permissions all day today. It was in the afternoon, around 3 pm (13:00), and I could see the sun slowly beginning its journey down beneath the horizon to sleep until morning.
I was sleepy from lunch, so I opened my mouth wide to let out a yawn. Tears welled in the crevice of my eyes, almost falling yet catching themselves. I stretched my arms over my head and smacked my lips together before settling back down in my chair. I tuned into what the teacher was selling us for the semester.
"Alright, I'm going to pass around the syllabus." He handed a stack of white papers to the kid on the left-hand side in the front of the classroom. The kid grabbed the stack, proceeded to grab one, and passed the stack behind him. I watched them float on down the line while the teacher continued. "I want everyone to take a close look at it once you get it. We're going to go over it."
The stack made its way to the second row, traveling north this time. I was seated in the third row, and the man from earlier sat in front of me with a seat separating us. He would be the one to hand me the papers when it came my turn.
I'm not gonna lie to you. I kinda had some anxiety. I hate altercations, and I hate having to face someone after an altercation even more than the altercation itself. I'm shy, if I'm honest, not the outgoing type. I only have a few friends, and I tend to just keep to myself and not bother anyone. So there was a tiny pit in my stomach when I realized that. I hoped he wouldn't say anything to me. Maybe he wouldn't recognize me. I mean he'd only briefly seen me earlier.
The papers passed the first person in my row. Well, now's the time to face it. He's gonna look right at me, and I'm gonna stare into his fucking eyes—
Without even passing a gaze, the man reached behind him, throwing his arm over his shoulder and shaking the papers to signal the next person to take them. I leaned up and grasped them quickly, pulling myself back to my seat. I sigh, and the relief of not having to look into his cold, dead eyes washes over me. I believe I may have collapsed into my seat, if I remember correctly, but regardless, I made it.
After taking a copy, I handed the papers off to the next person beside me and then gazed down at the syllabus.
歴史
History
I read the outline of the course and what to expect on the first page. Three pages were stapled together. I was getting ready to flip the page when the teacher called for our attention.
"Alright, let's go over the first page together. Here's what to expect from—"
I tuned him out as I flipped to the second page. My eyes glanced over it, reading it while also half listening to the teacher.
Oh shit.
"Now, on the second page—"
Are you fucking serious?!
"—if you'll look at the bottom portion—"
My mouth lolled open, and my face twisted into a look of pure disgust. I was highly offended. I looked up at the teacher. He was propped up against his desk, holding the syllabus in his hands. I watched him take his hand and rake it through his black hair.
"—you'll see that with this class, you will be given a partner."
A partner?! Are you fucking kidding me?! I absolutely despise group work. I'd rather file the nails of Satan all day long than be bound to some strange person for the duration of an assignment. Are you fucking kidding me?! A fucking partner!
I scooted down in my chair and just grimaced at the teacher. He may as well have killed my parents. That's what pain I experienced in that moment.
"This partner will be your partner throughout the entire semester. There will be group work assignments. It's your responsibility to meet with your partner to complete it."
A few other kids groaned, and that gave me the courage to mutter under my breath, "Fucking really?"
"There will be two major assignments in this class: the midterm and the final. They will require you to work together to complete them," he explained.
Continuing, "I do not offer tests. I do not give you the opt out button. In the real world, you're going to need to work with others in order to accomplish tasks and reach goals. Scientists work with colleagues most of the time. Very rarely are you left alone. So I don't want to hear any complaints."
I fucking rolled my eyes into the back of my head like Reagan from The Exorcist. I'm shocked my head didn't twist around and vomit spew from my mouth. Begone, Satan is fucking right. I could not believe this motherfucker was going to pair me up someone. Absolutely appalling. Doesn't he know who I fucking am?
"However, however," he continued, holding his hand up to silence the hissing of the class. "I will allow you to pick your partners."
Sighs of relief reached the heavens above, and yet from my seat in the classroom, I could not see my Almighty Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (peace be with him). I could not see the promise land, and for a few seconds, I contemplated if I had offended God once again with my constant jokes about burning in Hell. Was this a karmic justice? Or was this divine punishment?
I looked to my left.
No one I even remotely knew. Some familiar faces, but we never exchanged pleasantries, much less would they know me enough to want to work with me.
I looked to my right.
No one. Not a soul. Perhaps one person, and… nope, they're excited to partner with someone else. Huh.
I wasn't exactly the most popular person. Like I said I'm shy and I keep to myself. I don't branch out. If you become friends with me, it's on accident. Or you wanted it, not me. That's how shy I am.
I also experience bullying and have the worst social anxiety known to man. I'm serious. It was documented in the Fucks Given catalog as the worse case documented in history. All jokes aside, it's pretty bad, to say the least.
"I'm going to give you about five minutes—"
There's no point in me even fucking moving. I mean… seriously. I don't know anyone.
"—to find you a partner. I'll record that partner in my roster, okay?"
Like why am I even alive, if you want me to be honest. Heh, yeah…
"And go!"
People jumped up from their seats in swoons. Others did one-eighties or ninety-degree angles in their chairs. I witnessed people swapping places with each other, so they could be closer to their friends. I watched others move toward the back where I sat to be closer to their partners as well.
And then there was the man in front of me from earlier. I knew my ass would have a hard time finding someone, so I just stayed seated at my desk, watching everything unfolding around me in both utter disgust for myself and my mental issues and in misanthropy, cursing in my head like the most seasoned of sailors. But the man from earlier who spoke down to me peered around the room, searching for someone.
He assessed everyone in the room before getting up from his seat and walking to the front of the class. He began exchanging words with one of the students. I watched the student shake his head "no," and then turn to face away from him. He walked up to another student, this time a girl, and exchanged some unheard words. She, too, shook her head "no."
I grinned sinisterly to myself, averting my eyes when he turned towards me. I pushed my glasses up on my face. This is the three folds law in action.
Three more people he asked, and each of them gave him the same answer: no.
"Alright! Time's up!" exclaimed the teacher. He walked around his desk and sat in his office chair. With a black pen in his hand, he withdrew a notebook that'd been sitting under the assigned textbook and, licking his finger, turned the page.
"Did everyone find a partner? Please stand if you don't have one."
Ah, I get to be shamed, too. Beautiful. I thought to myself. I stood up, and the man stood up, too. I surveyed the area to see any other stragglers.
Fuck. My. Life.
The teacher said, "Since it's just the two of you, you'll be partners."
He looked at me, and I looked at him. Our eyes met, and I just gave him a sheepish smile. Inside, though, the fires of Hell cindered my chest. They roared loudly, and the smoke fogged my brain. I was pissed to say the least. Whatever I did to deserve this must have been great because if I was being used by some divine being for karmic punishment, I would be even more pissed.
He didn't even smile back. His blank, icy cobalt-colored eyes told me very little about how he felt being assigned to me. Garnering nothing from him, I turned my attention back to the front of the room.
"State your name, sir," he said.
"Seto Kaiba."
"Alright, and you?"
"Alexandria Newton. I go by Alix."
"Perfect." He jotted it down. "You may be seated."
We both sat down at the same time.
Seto Kaiba. So that's your fucking name.
