Chapter 04

When I arrived home, I found that mom had fixed the dinner issue. She called her sister, Aunt Esparanza over for help. And it was beyond bearable; I wished for an earthquake or a flood to take me away. That woman never let us swallow any piece of the stakes she brought without her spitting some harsh critizism to either me, or mom, or both! So, I ended up excusing myself early, and went straight to my room.

In my dark personal space, I bypass Finneas, The Paper Kite, and Linkin Park for some ambient music. I fish through my desk for a stranded beef jerky, and tell myself to get over it. There are different ways to die. There’s jumping off a roof and there’s slowly poisoning yourself with the salted flesh of another every single day.

I sign onto the computer, and start typing:

January 17: 

According to the New York Times, nearly 20 percent of suicides are committed by poison, but among doctors who kill themselves, that number is 57 percent. 

My thoughts on the method: Seems like kind of a coward’s way out, if you ask me. I think I’d rather feel something. 

That said, if someone held a gun to my head (haha—sorry, suicide humor) and made me use poison, I’d choose cyanide. In gaseous form, death can be instant, which I realize defeats the purpose of feeling something. But come to think of it, after a lifetime of feeling too much, maybe there’s actually something to be said for fast and sudden.

When I finish, I walk into the bathroom to dig through the medicine cabinet. Advil, aspirin, some kind of over-the-counter sleeping pills I stole from mom and then stored in an old prescription bottle. I meant what I said to Lane about drugs. We don’t mix.

When it comes down to for me is I have a hard enough time keeping control over my brain without something else getting in the way. But you never know when you might need a good sleeping pill. I open the bottle now, dump the blue tablets into my palm, and count them. 

Thirty. 

Back at my desk, I line the pills up one by one by one, like a little blue army.

I log in onto F******k, and try going to Charlotte's page where someone from school has posted--!

Beep!

That was a notification from Battle Royale. It appears that I have a new challenger. Out of all the nights, tonight's the worst time to play online multiplayer. But once I read the username, it is an unusual name (that's what I think). 

I mean, seriously?! Who on earth would call themself 'Size-Matter'?!

That titled trash found it's way to my raging heart. And I accepted the match. And obviously, I eight stock him.

To say the truth, they were very determined, and well trained as well. It took me around fourteen minutes to kick that nut-job out of the arena; their character flew away with a twinkle. Kinda reminds me of how Team Rocket usually end up in Pokémon.

LS: Good game..

SM: YO, YOU GO TO COOPER?

LS: Yes. Why all CAPS?

SM: -Disconnected-

With that awkward conversation with a stranger ended on a sorta uncomfortable cliffhanger, I log out of Battle Royale.

Afterwards, I set my fingers on the keyboard, looking at the way they rest there, I run my hands along the keys, as if I’m playing piano. And then I type:

Obligatory family meals suck, especially when meat and denial are involved.

“I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times.." I whisper to myself. Especially when there is so much else to do. The quote is from Virginia Woolf’s suicide note to her husband, but I think it fits the occasion.

I scoop up the sleeping pills and hold them in my palm. I can swallow them right now, lie down on my bed, close my eyes, drift away. But who’s going to check on Charlotte Harvey score to make sure she’s not winning? I drop the pills into the toilet and flush them down. And then I go back to F******k, scroll through her page till I get to the first post, and move forward through all of them until I’ve read every single one.

I stay up as long as I can, finally falling asleep sometime around 4 AM. 

I dream that I’m naked and standing in the Bell Tower at school, in the cold and the rain. I look below me and everyone is there, professors and students, and Ruka eating a stake, holding it up to the sky like toasting me. The ground—the ground is closing in. And as though I got pushed from behind, I see myself falling down. But before I hit the floor, I hear a noise over my shoulder as everything around me collapses. 

"Uhh!"

It’s the alarm, of course, and I slam it once with my fist before throwing it against the wall, where it lies, bleating like a lost sheep.

◢ ◣

During lunch, the students in my class were mingling as always. There are a trio of guys to my rear, blabbering about some Rap concert. I can see few girls in the front squealing to a pic of some K-popstar. The jocks are to my right—puffing their chests while letting out weird voices that pretty much sound like roars of some wild beasts. The classroom is so awfully noisy that I can't hear my own thoughts. Can't these people stop talking for a minute? Come on, ain't there bathroom breaks, time out to go grab a drink, or something? Spare me some peace and quiet. Man, these people must have a lot going on in their lives to be this enthusiastic! Not that I envy them or anything.

I hate to burn myself, but what kind of problem people like these would come to the Aid Club for? They're all frolicking around like little monkeyes! They can turn this set up into a Hollywood movie. The Classroom of Apes! I wouldn't watch it, though.

Speaking of apes, my gaze shifts towards a specific chimp. A one with a tall stand-off-ish look. Medium fluffy hair, a mysterious, yet charming smile, and a fair skin. Basically, a Shoujo manga material. His name is Noah Thomson. He's the alpha down here. He got good grades, he's athletic, the star of the soccer team for God sake! He's even a candidate for the next team captain, and he's only a Sophomore. This guy lives the kind of real and fulfilling life you'd expect a normie to have. He's that kind of person that all the girls want, and all the guys want to be. And he always got a crowd following him around. He and a number of his hangers-on are the top ranked among the 'Social Food Chain'. I call them 'The Stuck-up Kids'. Members of that group have no real problems. Frankly, I'm glad they don't.

I burry my face in my arms as I lean on my desk. Instead of grabbing something to eat, I'm trying to save money. I'm really craving a Coke, right now. Why do I have to be the poor unlucky one?

◢◣

After classes are done, I go to serve my daily penality at the Aid Club. I walk in a relaxed pace down the second floor tunnel that connects the classroom building to the special use building. As I brainlessly gaze forwards, my sleepy eyes catch an unpleasant sight. A short girl with dark purple shoulder-length hair is walking with a fair skinned and dark blonde haired guy. That's Ruka and her boyfriend. They both still look in honey-moon stage. Blushing, holding hands, exchanging cute glances and comebacks, and oh, look, they even have a picnic basket!  

Oh God, please take me away..

The Ruka I knew was a smart ambitious girl. She believed happiness is something you forge with your own hands. But I guess, people tend to change with the seasons after all.

When I open the door to the clubroom, Charlotte looked exactly the same as she had the day before, sitting there. But instead of reading, today, she's playing a game on a handheld console.

I can't tell for sure, but it seems like it's either a horror or thriller, because from the faint sounds escaping her bluetooth earbud, I pretty much hear screaming. On the contrary though, her face is expressionless! Ice-cold poker face queen slaying in action.

I just make a small bow and walk toward her. Charlotte glance at me for a fraction of a second and then went back to her game.

“I’m this close, right here in front of you, and you’re going to ignore me?” I wonder for a moment if I’d turned into air. This was exactly how I feel in class every day.

“What a strange greeting. What tribe are you from?" she shoots back with only one eye glancing towards me.

“…Good afternoon." 

Ahhh, what a bitch! Unable to endure her sarcasm, the greeting drilled into me popped out of my mouth, and when it did, the ice-cold queen smiled. I think this was the first time she’d ever smiled at me. It taught me some useless facts—like when she smiles, she gets dimples and her canines poke out a little bit.

“Good afternoon. I thought you wouldn’t come again." Charlotte says. 

Frankly, I think that smile is foul play.

I sit down in the empty seat near her. Only a desk is separating our chairs. I think this space is reasonable enough; for my own protection at least.

Then, a ding-ding-dong sound rises from the school radio notifying an announcement.

“At 3:00 PM tomorrow, we will be holding a student club fair in Gymnasium No. 1. Students interested in joining a club, please gather in Gymnasium No. 1. I repeat, at—" a girl with a sweet voice continued the announcement. 

Club activities, huh? Come to think of it, I’d never joined a club INTENTIONALLY before.

“Hey, Charlotte—"

“I’m not interested in joining any other club."

“I didn't even ask you anything yet."

“Then, what is it?"

“Are you interested in joining another club?"

The poker-face girl puts down her game, and glares at me. “Miles, do you have dementia, or are you just an idiot?"

“That doesn't mean you won’t join, though," I reply, warily.

“Now you’re just splitting hairs. Don’t argue for the sake of arguing."

“Okay then."

She seems annoyed whenever I try to talk to her. I wonder if she’d come to the school only to advance into higher education or get a job. If she wanted to stay in a isolation of a clubroom all by herself, it's fine by me.

“Sorry. But, hey, I can at least talk to you pretty well now." I add.

“Listen, don’t count me as one of your friends." she coldly shoots me down again.

“O-oh…"

“Well, since you apparently want to go find out about other clubs, do you intend to join one?" she asks.

“Oh, I’m not sure, I guess. I’m still thinking about it. Probably not, though."

“You don’t plan to join a club, but you want to go to the club fair? How odd. Do you plan to use this as a pretext for talking to people and making friends?" 

How could she possibly be so sharp?

“Since I failed to make any friends on my first year, I thought that clubs would be my last chance."

"So, you have tried to find friends?!" she raises her eyebrow in disbelief.

"Yes, but I didn't have a chance since I enrolled in the Spring.." I exhale helplessly.

"So, we both enrolled in the Spring—I see.." she mumbles. "Maybe that's the reason behind our solitude.."

"Uhh—why did you have to enroll at that time?" I ask out of sheer curiosity.

"I was living abroad, and faced unpredictable circumstances on my way back. It took me 2 months to be done with them, and come home." she explains with a confident face. "And you?.."

"Well, I was hospitalized for 3 months. I had to undergo 2 surgeries." I answer. But the ice-cold jerk-face gives me a pity look.

"Plastic surgeries for your face? You poor thing.. It didn't work out in the end, I suppose." she mutters sarcastically.

"They were hip repairing surgeries, and I was born with this face; so, apologize to my mother.." I reply, trying to have my anger in check. "I was caught in a massive traffic accident. An entire bridge collapsed while I was on my way to campus on my first day of Fall Semester. But the girl that was crossing the road before me was about to get hit by a bus. So, I jumped protecting her, and instead.."

"A bridge collapsed, huh?" she barely whispers those words to herself.

"Uhh—it was all over the news in case you don't believe me—"

Charlotte lets out a deep sigh, "In spite of the circumstances, we lack acquaintances due to our late arrival." 

"Yeah, those who join halfway are always treated like outsiders.." I add. "I thought the club fair would change things around.."

“Can’t you invite anyone other than me?" she asks.

“It’s precisely because I don’t have anyone else to invite that I’m having such a hard time!"

“True. However, I don’t think you seriously mean what you’re saying, Miles. If you seriously want to make a friend, you should be more insistent."

“I can’t, though. I’ve devoted myself to walking a lonely road." I avert her cold gaze. 

Charlotte took up her console and quietly resumed playing. “I have trouble comprehending your contradictory way of thinking."

I want to make friends, but I can’t. Charlotte apparently found that incomprehensible. It's the same as being able to attend a university, but can't always afford money for dinner. That's my life in a nutshell.

“Have you ever joined any other clubs?" I ask.

“No, I’ve never been in one."

“Then, do you have any experience? You know, doing this or that?"

“What exactly do you mean by ‘that"? I can’t help but feel like that’s a mean-spirited question."

“Mean-spirited? Why?"

“Mr. Grimwine. I’ve warned you thoroughly, but it would appear that you haven’t been listening. I think I may have to dole out rather merciless punishment to you later."

“Absolutely not! Violence doesn't solve anything!" I try to seem more confident and determined.

“Oh, really? Violence has existed since the dawn of time. Violence has historically proven to be the human race’s most effective means of achieving resolution. Violence is the most reliable method to make others listen, or safely deny their demands. Not to mention that, in many countries, the police who enforce the law use handguns and batons, wielding violence as a tool to make arrests."

“You sure are rambling…"

She gave a grand speech, insisting that hitting me is not wrong. “I think that I will employ violence to rehabilitate you, and purge you of those impure thoughts. How does that sound?"

“Okay then, what if I said the same thing to you, Charlotte? What about that?"

At best, men who raised their hand against women were called “lowlifes" and “cowards."

“I wouldn't particularly mind, because I don’t think you’ll get the chance. Besides, if I never say anything wrong, then you’ll never be able to reproach me." her answer was totally unexpected. 

She really seemed to believe that she was always right. Even though she looks and speaks with the civility befitting an honors student, on the inside, she was a cruel beast.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. I’ll be careful from now on." I give up on her and look out the window. Ah, the weather today is so nice.

“Club activities, hmm.." Charlotte mumbles to herself as she ponders something. “Well, if it’s only for a little while after school, I’ll go with you," she says.

“What do you mean ‘a little while——"

“You asked me earlier, didn't you? You said you wanted to go to the club fair."

“Oh, yeah. I never planned to stick around. I was just looking for a chance to go. Is that okay?"

“If it’s just for a little while. All right, we’ll go after class."

Hmm, Perhaps, she is actually a good person after all. You know, behind all the cruelty..

“Watching you crash and burn as you fail to make friends sounds somewhat interesting."

Nope. She's still a jerk..

"Like you can have friends! You're trapped here in a room all by yourself.." I mutter.

"I'm doing it on my own will. Girls nowadays are plain boring."

"Wow! Speaking out of experience." I smirk back.

"Yes, they would usually come to me talking about their crushes." she adds.

"Ain't that a little personal—?"

"Not exactly." she cuts me off. "Girls essentially tell you about their crushes for the sake of deterrence." 

"What do you mean..?" I'm confused.

"When you tell people that you like someone, everyone has to be careful around him, right?" she explains. "Once you knew she likes him, if you lay your hands on him, you would be treated like a home-wrecker and be excluded from the clique. Even if he was the one confessing to you, you're still going to be excluded. So, I have no energy for such abuse."

"Ohh boy.." I mutter.

"Do you want to know what happened to me once?" she asks.

"Nuh, I don't really care, and I don't want to care." I collapse on the desk in exhaustion. 

Basically, schools and universities are just a microcosm of human society. All of humanity put together in a little diorama. That's why violence exists here, because there's war and conflict in the world. And the 'Social Food Chain' reflects the heirarchies in our stratified society. Of course, as we live in democratic section of the planet, the tyranny of the majority applies at school, too. So, people like Noah Thomson, who got tons and tons of friends and social media influence, are superior. You can't unseat them from their thrones with talent alone. To them, both Charlotte and I are the same brand of losers.

"Heeh.." I sigh exasperatingly. Putting my hands behind my head, and leaning backwards. As I gaze above and wonder; Is there actually anybody who'd want to be helped——by people like us..?

But a second later..

Knock, knock! It was a knock on the door! I guess there is someone who requires the Aid Club's assisstance! Or is it just Mr. Lane finally learned how to properly make an enterence?

"Come in." says Charlotte to whoever is on the other side. She takes off her earbud, and puts her handheld aside as I witness the door opens.

And then——

"Pa—pardon me," says the new-comer. "Is this the Aid Club..?"