Chapter 01

I'm way up! 

I stand on a narrow ledge six stories above the ground.

I'm so high, I'm practically part of the sky. I look down at the pavement below, and the world tilts. I close my eyes, enjoying the way everything spins. Maybe this time I'll do it. Let the air carry me away. It will be like floating in a pool, drifting off until there's nothing.

I don't remember climbing here. In fact, I don't remember much of this morning. It all seemed to me like blank white noise. 

At times like this---I don't think I'm okay..

I guess, I haven't been okay for a while now! Mostly since the day I had to face the fact that growing up means leaving the person you grew up with behind just to be in a romantic relationship. Or is it since the day my mother had to sell our house because I dragged myself into a massive traffic accident, and shattered my hip bone?

I open my eyes, and the ground is still there, hard and permanent. I am in the bell tower at the east corner of Cooper University's campus, standing on a ledge about nine inches wide. The tower is pretty small, with only a few feet of concrete floor space on all sides of the bell itself, and then this low stone railing, which I climbed over to get here. Every now and then I knock one of my legs against it to remind myself it's there.

My arms are outstretched as if I'm conducting a sermon and this entire not-very-big, dull---dull town is my congregation. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," I shout. "I would like to welcome you to my downfall!"

"I, Miles Grimwine, being of unsound mind, do hereby bequeath all my earthly possessions to the Otaku Association Committee, whenever it's established. Everyone else can go f---themselves." my mom taught me to spell that word (if I must use it) or, better yet, not spell it, and, sadly, this has stuck.

Even though it's class time, some of my classmates are still milling around on the ground. It's the first week of the first semester of Sophomore year, and they're already super flashy and excited to learn. One of them looks up in my direction, as if he heard me, but the others don't, either because they haven't spotted me or because they know I'm there and 'Oh well, it's just that freak..'

Then his head turns away from me and he points at the sky. At first I think he's pointing at me, but it's at that moment I see her, the girl. She stands a few feet away on the other side of the tower, also out on the ledge, dark-brown hair waving in the breeze, the hem of her skirt blowing up like a parachute. Even though it's January here in Stonebay; in which is still fairly cold. She is shoeless in tights, a pair of boots in her hand, and staring either at her feet or at the ground, it's hard to tell. But she seems frozen in place.

In my regular, non-preacher voice I say, as calmly as possible, "Take it from me, the worst thing you can do is look down."

Very slowly, she turns her head toward me, and I know this girl, or at least I've seen her in the hallways. I can't resist: "Come here often? Because this is kind of my spot and I don't remember seeing you here before."

She is cheerleader popular. One of those girls you would never think of running into on a ledge six stories above the ground. With features almost like a China doll. Large eyes, sweet face shaped like a heart, a mouth that wants to curve into a perfect little smile. She's a girl who hangs with guys like Noah Thomson, soccer team star, and sits with Courtney Meyer and the other queen-bees at lunch. Basically, a normie.

At this point, I can tell I'm running out of steam. I need to take a piss, for one thing, and so my thoughts ain't the only thing twitching. (Note to self: Before attempting to take own life, remember to take a leak.) And, two, it's starting to rain, which, in this temperature, will probably turn to sleet before it hits the ground.

She's shivering or shaking, I can't tell which, but it's obvious that she snapped back to reality. 

From down below, someone yells, "Wait a sec! Isn't that Zoe up there?"

"Oh, God," she finally says, so low I barely hear it. "OhGodohGodohGod." 

The wind blows her skirt and hair, and it looks like she's going to fly away.

There is general buzzing from the ground, and I shout, "Don't try to save me! You'll only kill yourself!" 

Then I say, very low, just to her, "Here's what I think we should do."

I'm about a foot away from her now. "I want you to throw your shoes toward the bell and then hold on to the rail, just grab right onto it, and once you've got it, lean against it and then lift your right foot up and over. Got that?"

She nods and almost loses her balance.

"Don't nod. And whatever you do, don't go the wrong way and step forward instead of back. I'll count you off. On three."

She throws her boots in the direction of the bell, and they fall with a thud, thud onto the concrete.

"One. Two. Three."

She grips the stone and kind of props herself against it and then lifts her leg up and over so that she's sitting on the railing. She stares down at the ground and I can see that she's frozen again, and so I say, "Good. Great. Just stop looking down."

She slowly looks at me and then reaches for the floor of the bell tower with her right foot, and once she's found it, I say, "Now get that left leg back over however you can. Don't let go of the wall."

By now she's shaking so hard I can hear her teeth chatter, but I watch as her left foot joins her right, and she is safe.

So now it's just me out here. I gaze down at the ground one last time, past my size-thirteen feet that won't stop growing. Past the open windows of the fourth floor, the third, the second, past Courtney Meyer, who is cackling from the front steps and swishing her blond curls, books over her head, trying to flirt and protect herself from the rain at the same time.

I gaze past all of this at the ground itself, which is now slick and damp, and imagine myself lying there.

I could just step off. It would be over in seconds. 

No more 'the Freak.' 

No more hurt. 

No more anything!

For a minute, I can feel it: the sense of peace as my mind goes quiet, like I'm already dead. I am weightless and free. Nothing and no one to fear, not even myself.

Then a voice from behind me says, "I want you to hold on to the rail, and once you got it, lean against it and lift your right foot up and over!" 

Like that, I can feel the moment passing, maybe already passed, and now it seems like a stupid idea, except for picturing the look on Courtney's face as I go sailing by her.

I laugh at the thought. I laugh so hard I almost fall off, and this scares me--like, really scares me, and I catch myself and my heroine catches me as Courtney looks up. 

"Weirdo!" someone shouts. 

Courtney's little group snickers. She cups her big mouth and aims it skyward. "You okay, Zo?"

Zoe or something, leans over the rail, still holding on to my legs. 

"I'm okay."  I shout. "Thanks for saving me. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along. I guess I'd be dead right now."

The last face I see below belongs to my school counselor, Mr. Lane. As he glares up at me, I think, Great. Just great..

I let myself helped over the wall and onto the concrete. From down below, there's a smattering of applause, not for me, but for this girl, the hero.  Up close like this, I can see that her skin is smooth and clear except for three freckles on her right cheek, and her eyes are dark brown that makes me think of puppies. The eyes that get me. They are large and arresting, as if she sees everything. She's pretty and tall, but not too tall, with long, restless legs and curvy hips, which I like on a girl. And her chest is pretty big; like 'catches the eyes' sort of big.

"I was just sitting there," she says. "On the railing. I didn't come up here to---"

"Uh, to what--?" I stutter.

She whispers, "Thank you, Miles Grimwine." she reaches up and kisses me on the cheek, and I can smell her shampoo, which reminds me of flowers. She says into my ear, "If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll kill you." 

Carrying her boots, she hurries away and out of the rain, back through the door that leads to the flight of dark and rickety stairs that takes you down to one of the many too-bright and too-crowded hallways.

◢ ◣

Technically, I'm under watch this year. This is due to a small matter involving scoring an all 50 out of 100 across all my Freshman Year's subjects (which is assumed to be intentional), absences worth one-third of the year's credit hours, and maybe hacking the University's system and shutting it down couple of times. As a result, I've agreed involuntarily to the following: weekly counseling; maintaining a high B average; and participation in at least one extracurricular. 

Inside the counseling office, I check in with the secretary and take a seat in one of the hard wooden chairs until Mr. Lane is ready for me. If I know Lane---like I know Lane, he'll want to know just what the hell I was doing in the bell tower. If I'm lucky, we won't have time to cover much more than that. Especially a certain essay I submitted the other day..

In a few minutes, he waves me in, an average, thick man built like a bull (yet, smooth from all of the lotion he keeps on rubbing all over). As he shuts the door, he drops the smile. He sits down, hunches over his desk, and fixes his eyes on me like I'm a suspect he needs to crack. "What in the hell were you doing in the bell tower?"

The thing I like about Lane is that not only is he predictable, he gets to the point.

"I wanted to see the view." I answer.

"Were you planning to jump off?"

"No, not on pizza day. Never on pizza day, which is one of the better days of the week." I should've mentioned that I am a brilliant deflector. So brilliant that I could get a full scholarship to a master degree on it, except why bother? I've already mastered the art.

I wait for him to ask about that Zoe---whatever, but instead he says, "I need to know if you were, or are planning to harm yourself. I am goddamn serious. If Faculty Board hears about this, you're gone before you can say 'suspended', or worse. Not to mention if I don't pay attention, and you decide to go back up there and jump off, I'm looking at a lawsuit, and on the salary they pay me, believe me when I say I do not have the money to be sued! This holds true whether you jump off the bell tower or the staircase, whether it's school property or not."

I stroke my chin like I'm deep in thought. "The stairs. Now there's an idea.."

"Not funny, Mr. Grimwine! This is not a joking matter."

"No, sir. Sorry.." I cough it out.

"Now, let's talk about your essay." dun, dun, dun! He just hit the target. 

"The...essay.." I say reluctantly.

"That's right. So why did it sound like the prelude to a school massacre? Was it some sort of a suicide note? Or you're just an idiot?" Lane sigh again, worriedly rubbing his buzz-cut hair. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "If you have an excuse, I'll hear it now."

He glares on me so hard I could hear the sound of his gaze. I was  overwhelmed. He's actually pretty damn scary!

"Um-uh, well, I did reflect on my life, you know? College students these days are very complicated, right?! It's basically all true!" I fumble with my words.

"Usually for this kind of thing, you reflect on your OWN life."

"And if you'd said that beforehand, that would've been what I have written! It's your fault for being vague when assigning the topic.."

"Don't quibble with me, kid! What you wrote raises concern." he slams the desk. "The thing suicides don't focus on is their wake. Not just your parents and siblings, but your friends, your girlfriends, your classmates, your teachers."

I like the way he seems to think I have many, many people depending on me, including not just one, but multiple girlfriends!

"I was just messing around. I agree it was probably not the best way to spend first lec."

He picks up a file and thumps it down in front of him and starts flipping through it. I wait as he reads, and then he looks at me again. I wonder if he's counting the days till summer.

He stands, just like a cop on TV, and walks around his desk until he's looming over me. He leans against it, arms folded, and I look past him, searching for the hidden two-way mirror.

"Do I need to call your mother?"

"No! And again no." and again: no no no! My mother has a very high blood pressure, and any sort of stress usually puts her on a hospital bed for weeks which subtracts my allowance of 30$ a month to..well, zero! 

"Look, it was a stupid thing to do. I just wanted to see what it felt like to stand there and look down. I would never jump from the bell tower!"

"If it happens again, if you so much as think about it again, I call her. And you're going to do a drug test."

"I appreciate your concern, sir." I try to sound my most sincere, because the last thing I want is a bigger, brighter spotlight directed at me. "There's no need to waste your precious time. Really. Drugs and me? Not a good mix. Believe me, I've tried." 

I fold my hands like a good boy. "As for the whole bell tower thing, even though it wasn't at all what you think, I can still promise that it won't happen again."

Lane gives me one hard look, like he's unsure that I would stand to my word before he says, "Okay, let's say this. You do your report over."

"Yes, sir."

Sure, this time I'll just spew out some completely inoffensive paper, like something a cute idol or a professional voice actress might post on her I*******m. Like: Today I had CURRY for dinner!

"Still, what you did today was unfeaseble. So I'm ordering you to do some community service. Wrongdoing must be punished after all." he says proudly. "Now, let's check your extracurriculars." 

"It's still a work in progress--for now.." I huff, avoiding his gaze.

"You haven't tried joining any clubs, have you?"

No, sir.."

"So you have any friends?" he asks, knowing full well I don't have any.

"M---my motto is to treat everyone equally, so I have a policy of not keeping anyone particularly closer than anyone else."

"In other words, you have no friends?"

"I-if you want to be that blunt about it.." I reply, hoping this session reaches its end before I do.

"Alright then, come with me." he puts my file back on his disk, and walks towards the door. And without offering any explanation or preface to his order, I pause. 

Noticing from the doorway that I wasn't moving, Lane turns back to

me."why are you standing there? Hurry up!"

Flustered by his glare and furrowed brows, I follow.

◢ ◣

The campus of the Cooper Stonebay University of Science and Technology is designed after a disc-shaped waffle--with each square being a building. With all the buildings being connected by a walkway tunnel on the second floor. 

Encompassing the boundaries as far as the eye can see, is a quadrilateral-shaped courtyard that is the holy land of the normies. Boys and girls mingle here with each other during their breaks. After they eat, they have a spot with grassy grounds and lots of bushes for them to get social media worthy material. After school, lovers exchange sweet nothings by the fountain under the dimming sunset behind the school building, awash with the scent of the ocean breeze and draped under the star-lit skies.

Barf!

When you look at it from up close, it so much like they're trying out for some soap drama that I can't help but get a chill down my spine. I suppose, if I went along with it, my role would be that of the tree they make out under.

With barely a word spoken between us, Lane leads me down the linoleum floor, apparently heading towards the special building.

I've got a bad feeling about this. 

I mean, community service is a worthless activity, anyway. The word service isn't something that should be popping up in everyday conversation. I think it's a term that should be reserved for very specific situation. For example, a maid servicing her master. I would welcome that kind of service with open arms, like, Woo, let's party!

I'm obviously going to be made to do something like move the piano in the music room or clean up the garbage or whatever.

"..I got a bad back like.. um er..er..herpes? That's it..?" I utter. 

"I'm sure you wanted to say a 'Hernia',  but don't worry about that. I'm not going to ask you to do physical labor." he regards me with infuriating condescension.

Hmm. That meant that he wanted me to look something up or do desk work. "But I have this disease where I'll die if I go into a classroom.."

"That some long-nosed sniper material. Are you one of the Straw Hat Pirates or what?"

You watch One Piece..?!

Suddenly, Lane stops before a completely unremarkable classroom. There is nothing written on the name-plate by the door. I pause at that, thinking it's odd, and Mr. Lane pushes the door open with a creak.

"We're here!" he says.

Desks and chairs were stacked up casually in one corner of the classroom. Maybe it was being used for storage? The stack was the only thing differentiating this room from all the others. There is nothing special about it. It is extremely normal.

What made it feel so different, though, is that there was a girl there, reading a book. The scene was so picturesque that I imagine that even after the end of the world she would still be sitting there, just like that. The moment I saw her, I was entranced.

When the girl noticed she had visitors, she bookmarked her paperback and

looked up. "Mr. Lane, I thought I asked you to knock before entering."

Flawless visage. Flowing black hair. Snow-white skin, pale green eyes, and cherry colored small mouth, and a tiny mole few inches above her upper lip (which only adds to her beauty). All wrapped inside a collared white shirt, blue tight jeans, and a loose netted red unbutton jacket. She looked completely different from the other girls.

"Even if I knock, you never reply."

"You come in without giving me time to." she casts the guidance counselor a dissatisfied glance. "And who is this addled-looking boy?"

Lane lets out a sigh and steers back at me. "Let me introduce you. This is Charlotte Harvey!" 

"Uh！ha.." 

Charlotte Harvey, Sophomore Interior Design all-star. Everybody in this school knows her. She's a straight-A student on both regular and aptitude tests. What's more, she's always been showered with attention due to her outstanding good looks. I still remember that conversation I once overheard:

.

.

"So, what do you think about Charlotte?" one of them had asked.

"You mean Charlotte Harvey?" the other one said.

"Yeah."

"What do I think? I mean, she's awesome. Doesn't everyone think that?

"She's a superstar."

"Yeah!"

"She's, like, a prodigy! Grades, sports, looks！everything about her is perfect. 'Genius' still feels like an understatement."

.

.

So, what a celeb like that doing in a place like this..?

"And this ADDELD young man is Miles Grimwine, a Sophomore in Information Technology." Lane continues. "He'll be joining the club."

"Um--hey. What do you mean?! Join the club?!"

Join what club? What club is this?!

Mr. Lane opened his mouth in anticipation of my question. "Your

punishment will be to participate in this club's activities. I won't accept any arguments, disagreements, objections, questions, or back talk. Cool your head for a bit and think about what you did."

He hands down my sentence with the force of crashing waves, leaving me no room for protest. 

"Well, then, I think you can tell by looking at him, but he's rotten to the core. That's why he's always alone. Such a pitiful soul.."

You can tell just by looking?!

"If he learns how to be around people, I think he'll straighten himself out a little. I'll leave him with you. My request is that you correct his twisted,  personality" Lane says, turning back to Charlotte.

Charlotte opened her mouth, looking annoyed. "If that's the issue, I think you should just knock some discipline into him. Kicking would also work."

What a scary girl..

"I don't think that's legal..!" even Lane is backing off. Wow!

"Then, I refuse. Seeing that face of his brimming with ulterior motives, I feel a threat to my person." Charlotte straighten her collar (though it hadn't really been out of place) and glares in my direction.

I'm not even looking at your overly modest chest. No, really, it's true, okay? Really, really---seriously not looking! It just happened to be in my field of vision and caught my attention for an instant, or a little longer..

"Relax, Charlotte. His motives are all at low level. There's nothing to worry about." Lane is basically insulting me.

"A low-level creep..I see.." she puts a finger on her chin.

"She's not even listening, and she's convinced!" I mutter.

Perhaps Lane's persuasion had borne fruit, or perhaps my low-level creepiness had won her trust. Either way, Charlotte communicated

her decision in a very undesirable manner. "Well, if it's a request from the counselor, I can't just refuse. I will comply." she sighs as if the idea was really unpleasant.

But I see what's going on here! Lane is trying to use a pretty girl to persuade me to turn into a normie, and lead a happy jolly douche life! But I ain't no dummy. I'm not falling into that trap again. Girls only ever show interest in hot guys (LOL), and normies (LOL), and once they have, they engage in impure relations with said individuals. In other words, they are my enemies.

So before anything happens, I'll repel this chick with my nasty deadpan look. 

Grrrrrrr!

Charlotte looks at me like I'm a piece of garbage. She narrows her large gray-green eyes and let out a cold voice like the murmuring of a clear stream. "Don't just stand there growling like some animal. Sit down."

"Uhh----Okay. Sorry."

Whoa, what was that look in her eyes?! Was she a wild beast?! She'd definitely killed five people! She even made me reflexively apologize. I didn't have to go so far as to try to intimidate her. She already considered me an enemy. 

Terrified to the core, I dropped my scared butt on an empty chair.

Lane, the shitty guidance counselor, smiles in satisfaction."I see! Then, I'll let you take it from here."

And with that, excusing himself briskly.

And that's it, I'm left behind---with a super pretty girl behind closed doors in a quiet classroom.

Come on, come on, come on, is this for real?! Suddenly a rom-com development?

I was about to end my miserable life! Get my GAME OVER as I stop my continuously humming brain. This is making me royally anxious here! I'm not complaining about this situation as a premise, though. But seriously, what a dramatic change of genres!

Charlotte, on the other hand, leaves it at that, and, without showing any interest in me whatsoever, opens her paperback again. I hear the soft slide of the turning page. Once I take a quick glimpse at what she's been reading, it appears to be: Crime And Punishment. 

In one word: Intense..

Charlotte sitting there like a princess, looking very much the 'top student' and also in no way less beautiful than her reputation purported. However, as is usual with people of that race, Charlotte Harvey is an individual who lives apart from the crowd. Living up to her name, she is the snow under the snow. No matter how frequently you talk to her, she is untouchable and unattainable: You could only fantasize about her beauty. Frankly, it had never occurred to me that I would be able to get this close to her through an unfathomable series of events like this. Maybe I'd have fallen for her if I was any normal person with a normal life. If I brag to friends about this, they'd be envious for sure. Not that I have any friends to brag to, but---you know..

So what am I supposed to do with this gorgeous princess before me?

"Hm?" Perhaps in reaction to all my staring, Charlotte gives me a look of displeasure.

"Uhh, sorry. I was just wondering what's up here." I muster my nerves.

"..What?"

"Well, I got dragged here with no real explanation." I reply.

Instead of clicking her tongue at me, she shows her ill humor by vigorously snapping her paperback shut, and sticking its edge on her chin. "In that case, let's play a game."

"A game?"

"Yes. A game, to guess what club this is." she says softly. "Okay, so what club is this?"

Playing a game alone with a girl?

Now this was coming off as some kind of kinky setup, but Charlotte radiates no aura of temptation. She was more like a honed knife, sharp enough that if you lose, it might cost you your life. Where did that rom-com atmosphere go? This turned to a gambling apocalypse!

"There're no other club members?"

"No." she replies.

Could you still have a club without any members? I got serious doubts about that.

Honestly, there are no hints.. 

No, wait. 

If you were to look at it from another angle, there were only hints. I'm not bragging or anything, but having been almost entirely devoid of friends since I was little, I'm pretty damn good at games you can play on your own.

Assembling my hypothesis, the answer should have presented itself. It's right in front me from the start.

"A literature club."

"Hmm? How did you come to that?" Charlotte asks with mild interest.

"It wouldn't need a specialized room or any kind of equipment, and even with only few members, the club wouldn't be disbanded. In other words, a club that doesn't need financial support." I explain. "Plus, you were reading a book----showing me the answer all along."

Perfect deduction, if I do say so myself. Even Princess Snow White seems impressed as she makes a quiet mm-hmm noise. 

"Wrong."

"I kno---what..?!" seriously!

"Then what is it?" I ask, my voice tinged with irritation.

"I'll give you the biggest hint. Me being here, doing this, is a club activity."

So she's finally given me a hint. But that didn't give me any answers. In the end, it only led me back to my same conclusion: This was an arts and literature club.

No, wait. Wait, wait, calm down. Stay cool. Stay cool, Miles.

She said, There are no club members aside from myself. But the club still existed.

In other words, that has to mean that there were ghost members, right?

And so the punch line is that the ghost members are actual ghosts. And in the end, it would be a setup for a rom-com between me and a beautiful 'ghost' girl.

"An occult research society!" I snap my fingers.

"I said it was a club."

"A--an occult research club!"

"Wrong. Haaa...ghosts? What nonsense. There's no such thing." the way she says it isn't even slightly cute. 

"I give in. I have no idea." how could I figure out something like this?

"Miles. How long has it been since you last talked to a girl?"

The question came completely out of the blue, destroying my train of thought. Damn, that is so rude!

"6 months and 12 days!" I answer brainlessly.

"Uhh, the fact that you're very precise is creepy.." she's stammered.

"So, what club is this anyway?" 

At the wake of that moment, Charlotte stands up in proclamation. 

Hmm, she's really tall----maybe my height, and I'm 6 feet (okay, maybe 5' 8'..)

"Haves giving things to Have-nots out of the goodness of their hearts is known as volunteering. Giving aid to developing nations, running soup kitchens for the homeless, and letting unpopular guys talk to girls. Lending a helping hand to people in need. That is what this club does." at some point, she, from that vantage, is naturally looking down on me.

"Welcome to the Aid Club. We're happy to have you."

Why do I see glitter sparkling all around her..?

I guess she's implying some sort of noblesse oblige which meant something about the duty of nobles to help the poor, or whatever.

"As Mr. Lane says, great people have an obligation to help the less fortunate. I have been entrusted with this and I will correct your problems for you. Be grateful."

"Why, you..?!" I clench my fists in frustration. "I'd never needed your so called 'Charity'. So, you better stop! I may not seem much, but I'm totally comfortable with myself"

"That part at the end included some rather fatal deficiencies, you know? But your ability to deliver it in all confidence is somewhat amazing in its own right！you weirdo. I'm crept out already..."

"Shut up! I don't want to hear that from you! You freaky chick!" 

"Have you ever consider the odds that maybe it was your face that repels people around you?" her smile became cold. It's rather sadistic at this point.

"You're you saying I'm disfigured?!"

"I couldn't say that. The truth can be too painful to hear sometimes after all."

"You basically just said it.."

Charlotte's expression turned serious as she says, "Don't avert your eyes from the truth. Look at reality, and a mirror."

"Hey, hey, hey! My face is well proportioned. It's about time for you to apologize to my parents!" I could feel my face twitching all over the place.

Ms. Prodigy's expression fell as if she regretted her words. "You're right. That was a mean thing to say. Your parents are the ones surely suffering the most."

"Fine! My bad! Or rather, my face is bad."

When I plead to her on the verge of tears, Charlotte finally sheathes her sharp tongue. I was now enlightened to the fact that there was no point in saying anything to her anymore.  

"Now, your practice conversation with an actual person is complete. If you can speak with a girl like me, you should be able to speak to most ordinary people."

Smoothing down her hair with her right hand, Charlotte's expression beamed with accomplishment as she smiles. "Now with this wonderful memory in your heart, you'll have the strength to go live your life alone."

"Humph! Your solution to my problem is beyond bizarre."

"But that in and of itself isn't sufficient to satisfy Mr. Lane's request. I have to address the root of the matter. What if you quit school?"

"That's not a solution! It's just like putting a Band-Aid on a pimple!"

"Oh, so you're aware that you're a pimple?" she glares at me with eyes that ask: Why are you still alive?

At that moment, the door opens, and Lane, the crappiest counselor, barges in, like it's his appartment's kitchen.

"Charlotte. Sorry to interrupt--"

"A knock.."

"Oh, sorry. Oh, don't worry about me, go on! I just dropped by to see how things were going." he leans against the wall of the classroom, smiling coolly at the exasperated Snow White with Sharp Tongue. He looks back and forth between the two of us. "Glad you two seem to be getting along."

Why and where the hell did he get that idea?!

"You keep working on fixing that twisted character of yours and  correcting those thoughts. I'm going back now. Go home by the time school is over, you two. It's getting late."

"Ho-hold on a minute, please!" I reach for his hand.

"Hmm, is something wrong?" 

"There IS something wrong with you! What do you mean, correct me? You're making me sound like a juvenile delinquent! What the heck is with this place, anyway?" I demand.

Mr. Lane went hmm and put a hand to his chin, briefly adopting a thoughtful expression. "So, Charlotte didn't explain it to you? In short, the goal of this club is to stimulate personal transformation and resolve people's worries. I guide students here who I believe are in need of change."

Lane then, shifts his focus on Ms. Perfection. "It seems you're having trouble correcting him."

"The problem is, he isn't even aware of his own issues." Charlotte replies, indifferent to our counselor's pained countenance.

Why do I suddenly feel like I want to bolt? It felt like that time in sixth  grade when my mom found out I had a porno mag and lectured me over and over about it. No, that's not what I should be thinking about right now.

"Well, seems this crappy party is over!" I say. "Thanks a lot for wasting my time. It was a stupid gig! No offense Mr. Lane, but I don't need that sorta change. I'm outta here!" 

I gathered my shattered soul to get myself up and bail.

"What are you talking about? If you don't change, you'll be in deep trouble, socially speaking." Charlotte regards me as if her argument were as sound as 'No more war!' "From what I can see, you are markedly lacking in humanity. You don't want to change that? Have no desire to improve yourself?" 

"Maybe I no longer want to! Maybe I'm sick of humanity!" I reply defensively.

"You just can't see yourself objectively." she interrupts, preventing me from snatching a quote in an attempt to sound deep. It would have been a great line, really. "You're just running away. You can't move forward if you don't change."

"Cut it out, already!" I shout. "You're wrecking my nerves like a broken record!"

"Broken record?!" 

"Calm down! Both of you!" Mr. Lane decides to butt in at last.

I looked at his face, and he was honestly grinning and joyful. He looked like he was having fun.

"This has gotten entertaining. I love developments like this. It's sort of

like Shonen Jump! Great, right?" he was getting excited about this for some reason. 

Though a grown man, his eyes sparkle like a little boy. "Since time immemorial, the way of shonen anime has been to resolve a clash of perspectives on justice by means of competition."

"What are you talking about?" I was talking, but he wasn't listening.

Our counselor unleashes a boisterous laugh, faces us, and loudly proclaims: "So, let's do this! You're going to guide the lost lambs who come to you. Save them according to your individual principles and prove their veracity as much as you see fit." 

But the next he says, puts the two of us in a plain shock. "How about, the winner gets to makes the loser do anything?"

"Anything?!" anything means, you know, like. That is to say, ANYTHING..

Gulp..

There was the sound of a chair scraping as Charlotte drew back two meters and adopted a defensive stance. 

"Who can serve others the best wins, huh? Gundam Fight! Ready? Go!" Lane shouts.

"No." Charlotte refuses bluntly. "With him as my competition, I feel a threat to my virtue, so I refuse."

"That's garbage! Boys aren't necessarily always have

lewd thoughts!" we think of umm---lots of other things! Like, world peace? Yeah..

"So, even a Harvey is afraid of something! Are you that unsure of your ability to win?" Mr. Lane asked, his face adopting a nasty semblance.

Charlotte looked a little sullen. "Fine. Though I find it rather vexing to give in to such cheap provocation, I will accept your challenge and deal with him while I'm at it."

Whoa, Charlotte sure hates losing! But what does she mean by dealing with me? That's scary. Cut it out!

"So it's settled." the counselor smiles smugly, ignoring the mental daggers Charlotte was tossing at him.

"Hey! What about what I want?" I ask.

"Anyhow, don't forget that the Class Merit Competition has been running for sometime now." Lane continues. "So, I'm expecting to see lots of students that can use some help."

"What about what I want?" I repeat.

"Oh! It's time for closing." Lane glances at his watch with a sigh. "You better head home now, come on!" 

"What about what I want..?" I guess there isn't any use of this..

And with that, the three of us walk out of the classroom and then out of campus. What an unlucky day it has been. My one month plan crashed at the last minute, I got called to the counselor's office, press-ganged into joining some mysterious club, verbally abused by a wastefully cute girl! I suffered a lot. Wasn't talking to a girl supposed to make your heart leap? My heart had done nothing but sink! Life is indeed, a shitty TERRIBLE game.