The Art of being Strangers

i.

The air was damp, and my short breath created small condensated clouds. With fingers that were locked on my pen, I slowly raise my glare. I was alone in the classroom. And yet, I could feel someone's expiration on the back of my neck. I let out a short sigh before darting a glance over my shoulder. No one was there. I could feel my muscles relaxing and my jaw parting. My glance turned to the papers under my fingers.

I was supposed to stay in the classroom until I finished my homework, and then turn it in. I haven't turned in my homework nor have done it for the past 2 weeks. The teacher's concern showed on their faces whenever I had nothing to turn in. I had little to no idea of what I was doing anymore. I was tired of doing only schoolwork and sitting in my bed all day. Life was boring for me. The same pattern repeats every single day. I began to dissociate, my eyes still locked on the papers full of words and math equations, but I couldn't see a thing.

"The answer on the first exercise is easy, why do you keep staring at it?" someone whispers.

I freak out. My hand grips my pen tightly, and my jaw clenches. I was supposed to be alone. At that point, I didn't even try to look around.

"No, it's not. I suck at math," I say under my breath. It was the truth.

"Yeah, I expected that," the voice behind me murmured.

"Who are you?" I then ask, a tint of annoyance showing in my tone.

"My name's Basil. Basil Farrow. I used to be in the same class as you, remember?

I stop breathing. Of course, I remember Basil. We never talked to each other, though. I didn't think he noticed me. I was pretty quiet, and no one really paid any attention to me. He wasn't popular either, but he sure knew how to get everyone's attention. Unlike me, who just disappeared in the back seat of the class.

"But you're supposed to be missing. Or dead. Or whatever," I say without blinking.

Two years ago in October – I don't remember the exact date, but I know it was close to the 20th – a loved student disappeared. As you might have guessed, the student's name was Basil Farrow. The police were working tirelessly, looking for him for months. They never came back with a clear answer about what happened. There were rumors about him being kidnapped but still alive. However, every incident must have the bad side of rumors. In this case, that bad side was Basil being dead. The police never found his body, so nothing was ever confirmed.

"I am."

His words made the world start spinning. My eyes kept unfocusing and my hands trembled.

"No, you're not," I say calmly. "You seem pretty alive for a dead person," my eyes still refused to look around.

"I am dead, though. I was killed 2 years ago," he specified.

I thought he was joking. Or maybe I had hoped. But then I turned around. There were only blank walls surrounding me. No person. No Basil.

My legs moved on their own, and I quickly grabbed my backpack and stormed out of the classroom. I needed to get fresh air. I could hear a teacher screaming after me, but I was too focused on leaving this place to answer it. I was going to get in a lot of trouble for leaving yet I shrugged at the thought of that. Getting in trouble wasn't my main concern. Basil was.

Air felt great. For a brief moment, I forgot about the voice I've just heard. But then my senses came back to me, and I knew I had to do something. My hand reached for the phone I shoved in the pocket of my jeans earlier. The first thought that came to my mind was searching for his name on the web. And I did. Nothing showed up, though. I frowned but continued to scroll until something that popped up caught my eye. His Instagram account. A smile appeared on my lips as I entered his profile. Basil's last post was from 2 years ago. A picture of him and a girl - perhaps his girlfriend - holding an ice cream. That was it. I kept looking at his account. His bio didn't say anything besides the word artist. He didn't have any highlights. Not even captions on his posts. I checked to see if any accounts tagged him, but there weren't any. His account was not helping with my dilemma. There weren't any details on his disappearance. Or death, as he said earlier.

I stared at my phone for a while before I decided to leave the school's grounds. I looked behind my back, staring at the school when I remembered about the math homework I didn't do. I sighed. I would come up with an excuse for not doing my homework again. Not a big deal.