4: Fake Quarrel

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4

It's a really cold Thursday evening. It's raining hard outside, there are even occasional times I hear the sky loudly roaring in-what?-anger, pain, maybe boredom?

I stare at the only window my room-that is about as big as a cereal box-my head lolled into one side. I watch the raindrops as they race their way down on my windowpane. It's always been like this when it rains, the only thing I do to kill time is through this pointless race. But now, I stare through the window. The sun is setting, dipping into the dark nimbus clouds. It's five, yet the weather is making it look like it's seven. It's getting darker and darker as time passes by, and time passes by so fast. I take a closer look outside, observing how the pine trees right in front of our mansion sway along with the violent dance of the storming wind. A thought comes in my mind-do these trees have feelings?

Stupid. It must have been the boredom I'm feeling that's making my brain function as bad as a rat to formulate a question like that.

I go back to my bed and reach for the remote control. I bore myself by switching channels, but never finding the perfect one to suit my mood, so I switch it off. This is day is weird, worthless, and wasted. But it's not like I have any better things to do. Maybe it's why I had agreed going to school.

Sometimes being a socially awkward villain like I sucks like hell.

Thunder. Flash of lightning. Thunder. Whistling of wind.

I almost trip over the edge of dozing off, until Tiara knocked on my door, asking if she could get in for a short match of Dead Mark. I welcome her in, thinking-finally, something to do!

Of course, a short match turned into endless matches. We had countless of intense games, neither of us were in a mood of losing, but of course, in the end, I kicked her ass off the game and won.

Just kidding. Out of sixteen matches we had played, I only won on two. I never won over her in Dead Mark. It was always her who wins. I don't know why, but it seems like she's been into a Dead Mark Proficiency Academy or something.

After losing the sixteenth game, I half-heartedly have decided to surrender. Then she laughed and asked me if I was really a guy- a remark which was extremely insulting-because she said Dead Mark is a game for noobies.

Then we talked briefly, of course there was the same feeling I didn't want to feel, but as much as possible I tried ignoring it.

"You're excited for Monday, huh, Liam?" Tiara elbows me, her thin lipstick-splashed lips curving upwards.

I don't get to answer her question quickly, because thoughts start to shower into my mind nonstop.

High school - all of us have our own definition of high school. Those years could either be listed in your best years, and for all you know, in the worst years of your life. The high school years are the years you get to do almost everything. Those are the years you'll get trained for something much worse - college. High school are the years you'll go through pointless classes, the years you will experience your major firsts, and the years you get the chance meet different kinds of people.

In high school, you must be a brave one. If you're weak, silent and afraid to stand up, you'll be one of the lower class people - or as what they say, the losers -trust me, I've been there for my first three years of being in high school.

When I was in pre-school up to fifth grade, everything went pretty well. And to be honest, I was one of the school's A students. I was very much known in our school, everyone smiled at me whenever I passed through hallways. I had many friends, and a really awesome childhood best friend-Sarah Michelles-and I was able to sit in the cafeteria table near the windows - where students loved to eat, because it gives perfect view to the beautiful fountain on the backyard of our school. I was the known one.

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