Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

4

I stared blankly at a patch of marble on the staircase leading up to the front doors. It felt almost ironic considering the state of the rest of the school, and I felt like laughing but didn't have the energy. My backpack was tugging me down and I trudged up and entered the building.

"Hey, slut," a voice called as soon as I set foot in the front hall. My head snapped in its direction and a girl I heard was named Charissa or something was grinning at me alongside her female entourage. At the look on my face she held up her hands. "I'm joking," she added immediately. "I-it's supposed to be ironic."

"...oh," I hesitantly replied, forcing myself to give her a tiny smile. It didn't exactly feel ironic but I didn't really care all that much. Honestly, she could have called me worse and totally meant it and I'd feel the same way.

"Yeah. I wouldn't really call you that, you know. It's Avery, right?" Her voice was sickly sweet, but not so much in a fake way as an, oh god I hope they don't hate me already way. I nodded silently, raising an eyebrow. "See you later."

There was an extra lull in class, even more than on a usual day. It took a little bit to realize it was because of me.

A little fun fact about my reputation: everyone in junior year knows me to be something of a snarky asshole. Or at least really confident. Which I don't blame them for. Sometimes I just purposefully act like a fuckboy to be funny. Sometimes I wear pink, obscene tank tops and shorts and am asked to change because of the dress code or whatever misogynistic shit.

Sometimes I get called a slut. Even just as a joke. You know, like literally 5 minutes ago today.

But the bags under my eyes and gray beanie and lack of yelling dumb things in class probably told everyone that something was wrong. Which wasn't necessarily true. I was just getting paranoid of what was going to happen once I got that game.

In Chemistry a boy I barely recognized pointed at my shirt, which had a clip-art alien on it. Typical pretentious aesthetic kind of stuff. He raised an eyebrow and grimly asked, "Are you a believer?"

I raised my eyebrows right back and kind of let him down easy. "Uh, not exactly. It's kind of supposed to be ironic..."

He narrowed his eyes, clearly disappointed. "Well, I don't really know what I was expecting. Nevermind." And he turned back to his work. Was he going to try to indoctrinate me into some sort of alien worshipping cult?

I decided to drop the subject, but I really couldn't stop thinking about it until the end of the period.

During lunch, I saw outcast Meghan Flores smirk and stick her tongue out at me, and I smiled. That girl, bless her space buns, probably saw me as her closest friend. A subject for another time, perhaps.

In English a girl who I remembered had a crush on me in fifth grade of something like that asked me if I was okay. Naturally, I said yes, and that I just wasn't getting enough sleep.

"Are you sure? Cause it looks like more than just sleep. You look...really scared."

Goddamnit, I haven't even played the game and it's already toying with my mind.

"I'm okay, I swear."

I made my way home alone as usual and was greeted with an empty house. As usual. I sighed and jumped on the couch for what I planned to be a 3-4 hour afternoon nap, only to be interrupted by the doorbell and the sound of a box being dropped. My heart stopped as I remembered what I was waiting for all week.

I almost broke the screen on the front door pushing it open, and snatched the box off the ground not bothering to check the label. A rattling sound told me the contents were way too small for the box itself and my thoughts were confirmed.

Once I ripped the packaging open I plugged Majora's Mask into my '64 and started playing.