Was everything always this exhausting?
Dragging herself from her bed that morning had been a near Sisyphean task, and as she drifted through her morning routine, the brunette had found herself gravitating back to it as though magnetically attracted to the plush mattress and disheveled sheets. Somehow, she'd managed it, and after a crisp jaunt to the school, the din of the morning bustle of students layered over the rustle of papers as she rifled through her locker. Monika sighed. Plans for the dance were coming along well enough, and she'd already dropped off her proposal to the office on her way in that morning, but even that hadn't been enough to boost her motivation for the day to come. What she wouldn't give to be back in her nice, warm bed.
Situated as close to the front doors as her locker was, she was continuously buffeted by the cold draft of autumnal air each time a gaggle of students filtered in, hunching their shoulders against the cold and puffing warm air into their frigid hands. She shivered, hefting her backpack onto one shoulder and reaching for the thermos she'd set precariously on the top shelf. At least she had coffee, the bitter brew a balm against the encroaching winter chill.
Just as she was about to shut her locker, a familiar group of faces rounded the row of lockers to her left, and the Literature Club President cursed her rotten luck.
"Monika!" one of them trilled as she locked eyes with the Club President. She waved her small co-orbital configuration of classmates to follow her, and they filled in closely, clogging the space between the rows of lockers and blocking Monika's only route of escape from the social interaction.
She forced herself to smile, feeling each muscle creak against the expression. It was way too early for this. "Oh, good morning, Trish." Though her voice was a mere affectation of cheer, it seemed to fool the shorter girl who beamed up at Monika through long, asymmetrical bangs.
Flipping one hand through her shoulder length blonde hair, Trish situated her stack of books against her ribs awkwardly, the litany of discordant bracelets adorning her paper-white wrist rattling at the motion. "Are you going to Toma's Halloween Party this weekend?"
Right to the point. Of course Monika had heard rumors circulating about some huge event Toma was planning for the end of the month, but no one had even breathed word of it in her direction. Not surprising–she wasn't exactly Toma's favorite person these days despite their unspoken ceasefire, and if she had to guess, the exclusion was purposeful. Admitting that, however, was out of the question. She knew how these sorts of things went by now. "Oooh," she winced, "Sorry, I already have plans!" It was an easy lie, and it went about as she expected, met by a chorus of disappointed sounds somewhere between whines and patronizing admonishment.
"Oh come on, everyone is going to be there!" The taller, olive toned girl beside Trish chimed in, gesturing widely with a roll of her head as if to encompass the everyone she spoke of.
The shorter, pale girl with expensively dyed, red hair behind Trish snorted under her breath. "That's not what I heard." That garnered the attention of the small group of girls, and she continued, bathed in the social spotlight for that one moment. "I heard," she paused for dramatic effect to ensure her small audience of three was hanging on her every word, "she wasn't invited." She had leaned in conspiratorially as she delivered the finishing blow, pouting as though she were actually disappointed in the news.
She was used to it by now. People she'd originally thought were her friends had rapidly revealed their true intentions over the course of the last month and a half, and Monika was a quick study. With her position at the proverbial top of the social food chain, those around her were only too happy for any opportunity to take her down a peg. Unfortunately for them, and much to her own chagrin, she had also learned how to handle these sorts of interactions.
Bracing herself for the deeply unpleasant task ahead, Monika assumed the carefully crafted persona of the Class President. She rolled her eyes, laughing easily as though she'd just been told an incredibly funny joke, the smile never leaving her face. "You really think Toma would be petty enough not to invite me ?" She raised her eyebrows, snapping her locker shut with a manner of finality that made the girl flinch. "Come on," she continued good-naturedly. "Even he's not that bad." She faced them, then, coffee in hand and taking a step forward. Almost without conscious thought, the group of girls parted to let her through, drawn in by her performance. "But really, I am busy that evening. You'll have to tell me all about it though." The words tasted like acid in her mouth. Why did her voice sound like that? Why was this so easy ?
Trish pouted and then sighed dramatically, following her out of the locker bay with her posse in tow. " Fine… see you at lunch today? You don't have tutoring, right?"
The green eyed girl smiled again, this time hoping it met her eyes as the distaste set in. "Wouldn't miss it. Now I really do have to get to Homeroom."
That seemed to satisfy them, and as the girls went their separate ways, Monika let her breath out in a puff, her bangs ruffling from the force of it. This wasn't going to go over well, she knew. Toma would be none too happy to have his little social parley fall through in such spectacular fashion. Sure, she hadn't exactly said he'd invited her, but the insinuation was there. Not only that, but she'd also implied that she had better things to do with her time than attend his party.
That wasn't the only thing that didn't sit well with her, however. The ease with which she was able to drop into that persona was disquieting, to say the least. Inside, something stirred, as though the thought had prodded at a lingering beast that was slumbering just out of view. Well, she thought morosely, no changing what was done. She pushed it from her mind, refocusing her attention on her path through the halls.
By the time she reached her classroom, the clock was nearing the bottom of the hour. The bell would ring any moment signaling the start of another school day, and the announcements would begin their broadcast over the PA system by the Junior student council. Settling into her chair, she closed her eyes. It came as a blessing that no one seemed inclined to crowd her for a second time that morning, and she spent those first minutes of the day in relative peace as her classmates chatted loudly to one another, some hollering across the room to friends who were already at their seats.
The chime of the bell cut sharply through the chatter, and their teacher stood at the front of the class for roll call. A prickling sensation on the back of her neck as she stood for attendance made Monika turn her head slightly to look behind her, in spite of her better judgment. Blazing green eyes met hers and she swallowed roughly, turning back around and dropping quickly into her seat. She ducked her head forward, hunching over her desk in an effort to keep herself from view of the angry boy a few seats behind her.
As roll finished, the students busied themselves with various, quiet activities. Homeroom was intended as a time for the students to finish any remaining work for the day, but Monika, having finished hers over the weekend, found herself staring blankly at an empty sheet of paper, tapping her pen against it restlessly. Toma was still glaring daggers at the back of her head, and it was making it very difficult for her to focus on her poem for the Literature Club. Word traveled fast at this school, she knew, but she'd thought it would at least take until lunch time for him to hear about what she'd said. A naive thought at best–did she expect them to forget about their cellphones? Doubtless someone had texted him almost immediately.
It struck her with an irate sort of fascination that she was under such scrutiny all the time–I mean really, did Toma and everyone else have nothing better to do? Everything felt so fragile, as though she were maintaining a tenuous grasp on this life she had been so unceremoniously dumped into. Why was she even trying so hard? Realistically, she could quit the student council and focus on the Club, and it probably wouldn't change much…
Even as she entertained the thought, her mother's furious expression came to her unbidden, and she grimaced. Oh. Right.
As Homeroom neared its end, Monika began to pack her bag, hoping against hope that she would be able to beat a hasty retreat before Toma could confront her. It would just be delaying the inevitable, but her social battery was running concerningly low that morning. Whenever that happened, she'd noticed, she was far more likely to say something she would swiftly come to regret.
Once again, and to no one's surprise, she was thwarted in her plans. The moment the bell rang and Monika made to get to her feet, Toma was there, towering over her. His hand landed heavily on the marred surface of the desk, and she tried her best not to jump. "You're telling everyone I invited you to my party?" A few curious glances came their way at the outburst as the rest of the students filed out of the classroom on their way to first period. Great. This would be all around the school in a matter of minutes.
Even so, she tried to save face. Monika rolled her eyes, speaking with a calm that she didn't really feel in spite of his agitation. "I don't remember ever saying those words."
If it was possible, her words only seemed to make him angrier. "Don't play coy," he spat.
Monika sighed again, flattening her hands against the surface of the desk and pushing herself into a standing position rapidly enough that he had to stumble back a pace to avoid her head colliding with his chin. "Come on, Toma. I'm helping you here."
Recovering swiftly, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh? And how do you figure?"
Monika inclined her head slightly, raising one brow. "After what you did, do you really want people to think you'd intentionally exclude me from 'the biggest party of the year?'" She tapped her temple with one finger meaningfully. "Talk about adding insult to injury," she quipped dourly.
His eyes narrowed, and he dropped his arms to his sides, allowing her to pass. As she did, he leaned in again. "Don't think I'll forget this."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," she drawled, ducking past him and heading out the door. Once she was out of view, she broke into a faster walk, letting out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Now that was unpleasant. Regardless, the issue was handled for now, and her social standing was probably still intact–for now, at least.
The rest of the morning went about as well as the hour preceding it, and by the time Monika was able to slip out of the cafeteria one long, excruciating lunch break later, she was about ready to combust. With the dance around the corner and news of Toma's party spreading like wildfire amongst the masses, it was as though the usual day-to-day drama had reached a fever pitch, and Monika had somehow found herself at the epicenter. She hadn't even managed to eat her lunch between all the questions being lobbed her way, most of them airing on the side of mildly offensive.
To make matters worse, Yuri was becoming a more frequent topic of discussion among certain circles, and it was apparent that it was for definitively castigatory reasons. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her, then, when the girls surrounding her in the locker room as they changed for gym the following period took the opportunity to exacerbate that particular issue.
Monika had just pulled her t-shirt over her head and was slipping her arms into the sleeves when she overheard one of the girls–none too quietly–mention the quiet bookworm, their voices bouncing between the lockers like a ping-pong ball. Some of the things they said were in hushed whispers followed by a chorus of giggling, but one statement struck out loudly.
" I heard that she's gonna try to hook up with Toma at the party."
One girl made a gagging gesture in response, and her two friends laughed, egging her on. Monika frowned, taking a step closer, but not before the snap of a locker closing had all four of their heads turning. Moments later, Yuri stalked past, not sparing them a glance, her shoulders visibly tense and her strides stilted. The other three murmured to each other, making oo-ing sounds and laughing quietly. Monika watched her go until the locker room door fell shut behind her. Her jaw clenched.
"I hope you don't expect me to let that slide." Her tone brokered no argument, but the girl who had made the accusation simply rolled her eyes, ignoring her. "I'm serious," she tried again, this time garnering a response.
She recognized the girl from her third period history class. Monika couldn't recall ever having spoken to the girl before, and she was certain that the brunette wasn't a part of her usual circles. That didn't bode well for how casual and common place jokes at the tall purple haired transfer student had become.
The other brunette was a similar height to Monika, but she still managed to look down her nose at the Class President as she turned to face her. "Oh come on Monika, don't be such a stiff. Besides, it was just a joke."
Monika stared her down, her blood pressure rising. She did her best to reign it in, taking a deep, steadying breath–probably a mistake in the musty room–and willed the mounting hostility from her voice. "A joke?" she replied rhetorically. "Jokes are funny. That was harassment."
The girl balked at the word. "Harassment? God, chill, we were just messing around. Don't be like that," she groaned, turning her back to Monika and making to leave as though that was the end of the conversation.
Monika grit her teeth. "Words carry weight, you should know that."
One of the other girls turned to face her as they walked, taking another pace backwards to keep up with her friends "God, when did you get so uncool?"
"The only 'uncool' thing here is the fact that you felt comfortable saying something like that around me in the first place." She could tell they weren't really listening to her, so she tried a different approach–if she couldn't appeal to their sensibility, perhaps a bit of strong-arming was in order. With any luck, that would nip this particularly insidious rumor in the bud. "Don't think I'll be keeping this to myself," she began. "You know this school has a zero tolerance policy for bullying that they take very seriously." She had to raise her voice to be sure they heard her as they made their way out of the locker room. The door slammed shut behind them leaving Monika alone.
So much for strong-arming. "Shit!" she cursed quietly, tapping the lockers with the toe of her shoe. Was everyone in this school always so cruel before? The thought stopped her in her tracks even as she headed for the door. Everyone in this school? It had been such a natural flow of thought that she hadn't even realized it–since when did she take this stuff so seriously? She was supposed to be keeping a low profile and figuring out what the hell was going on with the game!
But what was she going to do, ignore them? She couldn't do that. This was Yuri they were talking about. She couldn't exactly take that lying down when she knew how sensitive the girl was.
Even as she thought it, she recognized the irony. Either way she sliced it, the behavior of those girls was like looking at her own reflection, spit shined and held up to the light in all its ugly glory. In another life, a different iteration, would she have stood up for the girl? What if it had been someone she didn't even know, what then? What if she'd just done it to ease her own conscience.
That thought slipped its way under her skin, lodging itself there like a splinter she couldn't dig out as she pushed her way through the door and out into the gymnasium.
After their volleyball unit's rather explosive finale, the class had moved on to basketball for their next unit. It wasn't Monika's favorite sport, that was for sure, but it could have been worse. At the very least, she managed to control the ball without bouncing it off her shoe too frequently.
After a quick warmup of laps around the gym and a few stretches, the class circled up to be assigned partners for passing drills, and the girls from before made it a point to stand as far away from Monika as they could. She fixed them with a disgusted frown from across the room until her name was called.
"Monika, you'll be with Yuri." The gym teacher, Coach Abawi, jerked her thumb in the direction of the ball caddy and carried on with the pairings.
As she weaved her way through her classmates in the general direction of the equipment, she noticed that Yuri had already retrieved a ball and was dribbling it rather adeptly to their assigned position.
The thunderous booms of at least ten basketballs filled the gymnasium, the hearty slams of errant passes colliding with the bleachers and loudly voiced apologies ricocheting off the lacquered wood floors before being swallowed up by the acoustic paneling along the vaulted ceilings. Monika glanced over her shoulder. There wasn't anyone close enough to them to be within earshot if she kept her voice at a reasonable level, so she turned to her partner. "Are you alright?" she inquired with a worried frown.
A surprisingly forceful pass caught her in the chest, and her breath left her in a whoosh as she was forced to take a step backwards to absorb the impact. Yuri didn't respond to her question, and for a moment she entertained the idea that perhaps the girl simply hadn't heard her. That notion was squashed the second she looked up only to be met with guarded lavender eyes. She carried on valiantly, waffling at the lack of reply. "That was pretty awful, what they said back there."
Still, Yuri gave no indication that she had any intention of engaging the shorter girl in conversation. Just as she opened her mouth to lob another question in the tall bookworm's direction, a sharp reprimand stopped her. "We're here to learn, not to socialize, Miss Chaunick," the voice came from so close that she nearly dropped the ball in surprise as their teacher passed.
"S-sorry," she squeaked, passing the ball back to Yuri.
Again, the pass was returned with considerable ferocity. Okay, Monika thought, maybe she was angry after all. She had every right to be, of course, but still. Spinning the ball between her fingertips, she moved in a few steps for their next drill. Maybe she just didn't want to talk about what had happened? Once the ball left her hands, she tried a different approach. "So what did you get up to after you left yesterday?"
Her attempt at small talk was shot down immediately by the return pass, though it wasn't quite as strong as the previous ones. "You'll get us in trouble." There was an irritated lilt to the words, her accent coating them more heavily.
Monika ceded the point and gave up on her attempts at small talk, finishing out the drills in awkward silence. When Coach Abawi called them back to the white board to pick teams for a short scrimmage to end class, Yuri headed off without a word, and Monika winced.
The last portion of class was allocated for four-on-four matches. While she'd been hoping to be on the same team as Yuri, Monika was dismayed to find that not only was she on a different team, but the bookish girl's match was delegated to the other side of the gymnasium. She managed to catch a few minutes of their game when hers ended in a tie, and she was surprised to find that Yuri was, against all odds, rather proficient at basketball. It was obvious that she'd never played in any official capacity, but she managed to score several points, even seeming to enjoy herself at times. She could add that to the list of things that were different about the purple haired enigma, and the Club President filed the information away for later.
When the bell rang to signal the end of the period and the students headed off to the locker rooms to change, Monika was one of the first ones out. She stashed her gym uniform into her bag haphazardly as she walked, heading out into the hall and ducking off to the side and out of the way of the other students. A few moments later, Yuri strode past, her eyes glued to a book she had pinned open with her free hand atop her stack of notebooks. Monika reached out, catching her elbow briefly to get her attention. Startled, the purple haired girl recoiled before she realized who had stopped her. Then, a thin frown creased her brow, and she folded her book shut, her thumb marking her place.
"S-sorry, ah…" Monika realized a bit belatedly that she wasn't sure what to say. It was clear that the timid girl was angry, and there wasn't much she could do about that. But she wanted, no, needed to say something, but now words came to her.
One thick, dark eyebrow arched in question, as though prompting Monika to spit it out. As the seconds passed without either of them saying anything, Yuri seemed to come to some sort of decision. Whatever spark of hope Monika had harbored that the two of them were on their way to becoming friends was snuffed out immediately at the words that slipped from Yuri's frowning lips. "I guess I was right about you after all," was all she said before filing into the crowd and out into the hallway.
Monika felt as though she'd been struck. Her breath left her the same way it had intercepted that first pass, and her chest ached hollowly as the words rattled around inside her head. Stupid. She was so stupid! Of course Yuri was upset, and she couldn't blame her–it wasn't like she'd been there when she'd stood up for her, and even if she had been, she was under no obligation to thank her. She realized, tiredly, that at best, the purple haired girl thought she'd been a silent bystander, and at worst, she probably thought she'd been going along with the others. How two-faced did it look then, when she'd come out showing concern. She scoffed at her own shortsightedness. Why couldn't she seem to do even the smallest thing right?
With a sigh, she headed for the main office. Regardless of how Yuri felt about her, she still had a report to make. It hadn't been an empty threat. If this situation had any hope of resolving soon, someone had to let the school staff know about it. Thankfully, Monika knew that many of the tenured employees cared deeply for their students, and she had the utmost faith that they would do everything in their power to put a stop to it.
Later–one draining conversation with the school guidance counselor and another four class periods behind her–the school day came to a close, and Monika found herself in a suspiciously empty club-room. She had seen both Natsuki and Sayori earlier in the day, so as the minutes ticked by without hide nor hair of either of her club-mates, she resigned herself to the fact that it might just be her that afternoon. A quick glance down at her phone told her that she had no texts from Sayori—not only that, but the girl hadn't responded to her last inquiry about whether she would be coming to the club meeting at all.
The voices out in the hall began to die down as the last few stragglers dispersed, and she was left with silence as her only companion once more. Unconsciously, her foot began to tap against the linoleum tiled floor. When even that wasn't enough to distract her from her thoughts, she pushed herself up from the seat at the front of the classroom, slipping between the rows of desks to the storage closet. She jammed the key into the lock, giving it a sharp turn and hearing the bolt slide out of place with a soft click.
The air inside was slightly stale, having been shut since the previous week. Before her, the shelves of Natsuki's manga stretched on in a bright array of colored spines. While nowhere near as extensive as the collection in the school library, she couldn't help but feel impressed–though where Natsuki got the money for such a sizable archive, she might never know.
Her fingers trailed softly along a few of the volumes within easy reach, and she plucked one at random from its home with a tip of a finger. The cover was mostly white, the title lining the top and bottom in black and pink lettering. A shojo manga, probably, she thought, noting the two characters on the front, smiling at one another with a pink hue to their cheeks. She was about to slide it back into place, not particularly sold on the conventionally attractive love interests when she noticed that it was not, in fact, a shojo manga. Upon closer inspection, the "tall dark and handsome" character on the front cover looking down at his shorter, cuter counterpart was not a "he" at all.
She flipped the book over, reading the back to confirm her suspicions, and smiled softly to herself. She hadn't read a yuri manga in several years, not since middle-school if her memories were anything to go by. There wasn't really any harm in indulging in some nostalgic literature, she thought to herself, pulling the nearby stool out and sitting down, nestling the volume on her lap and flipping to the first page. To her surprise, the first few pages were in full color, pulling her in with the adorably drawn characters and their bright, stylistically sparkling eyes.
As she lost herself in the pages of comedy and high-school romance, she didn't notice the time passing, nor did she hear her phone buzzing on the desk at the front of the classroom. She thumbed the pages, turning them slowly, her eyes drinking in every detail of the surprisingly detailed artwork. The mangaka was clearly talented, and her eyes caught continuously on the characters hands. They were drawn with so much character, adding a depth to each of the girls that most other manga would have simply left out of frame–you could tell a lot about graphic literature by the way they treated those sorts of details.
Before she knew it, she had read through at least half of the volume, entranced by the admittedly simple narrative, but thoroughly invested at that point. She went to turn the page, holding her breath in anticipation of what was going to happen next when she felt a chin drop on her head.
"What'cha readin'?"
She squawked, jerking away violently and nearly toppling from her precarious seating, slamming the book shut as she did so. A peal of laughter had her ears turning pink. Natsuki was holding her sides, cackling and leaning dramatically on the door frame. Sayori, who had been the one to startle her, had the grace to look at least a little apologetic. "Sorry Moni, I figured you heard us come in."
Monika pinched the bridge of her nose, her pulse thrumming in her ears. "I-it's fine, Say."
Natsuki snorted, moving closer and catching a peek at the title. "I knew you were a total sap," she whinged, wiping a nonexistent tear from her eye.
Monika gave her an unamused glare. "Says the one who actually owns these," she retorted, waving the book at Natsuki threateningly. That seemed to sober her up a bit, and she sputtered, snatching the volume from Monika's hands.
"Wh-whatever. I'm a collector."
"Mm-hm," she intoned disbelievingly, punctuating each syllable. She stood, dusting off the back of her skirt before looking back at Sayori. "Where were you two, anyway. Club's almost over."
Sayori looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, we were on cleaning duty. I texted you a little while ago, but... I think you were busy." Monika noticed the slight upturn of the corner of Sayori's mouth as she swallowed a giggle, and she felt her blush returning.
"Right." She responded tersely, not sure how she felt about Sayori and Natsuki tag-teaming her. "Well then. I don't think we really have time for what I'd planned on this afternoon. We could just call it early today if the two of you want to head home."
Sayori snapped her fingers, as though Monika's wording had just jogged her memory about something. "Speaking of heading home, did the new transfer student—what was her name again? Yuri—well anyway, did she finally agree to join?"
Monika frowned at her, confused. "No, why?"
Sayori looked surprised. "Oh, but wasn't that her leaving just a minute ago?"
If it was strange that she sped to the door and hung on the door-frame to peer out into the hallway, neither girl commented on it, but as she glanced up and down the fluorescently lit corridors, she didn't see anyone. With a sigh, she rocked back onto her heels and returned her attention to her clubmates, visibly deflating.
It was Natsuki who redirected the conversation. "Well, anyway, we have a few minutes. Weren't we going to share our poems today?"
Sayori followed her lead, brightening at the idea. "Oh yeah! I have mine!"
A warm fondness began to soothe the dull ache of disappointment in her chest. "I mean, if you guys don't mind club running a little late…"
The coral haired girl was quick to respond. "I don't mind!"
Monika smiled, heading over to her bag. "Well alright then. Let's get to it."