Chapter 3

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It felt like one of those rather clichéd teen movies. You know, the ones where a single student, usually the outcast protagonist, has the power to part the sea of foul-mouthed, bitchy seniors, juniors, sophomores and freshmen alike. Just like Moses. Parting the sea isn't always a good thing though. Without the sea, you don't have water. Without classmates, you don't have friends.

I always said to myself that it was Sierra's fault, for leaving the country and all that. Sometimes, however, I beg to differ.

Ironically, the first person I came in contact with was Kailyn Sashaya while I was scavenging for my Literature notebook. She used to be Sierra and my second BFF, well, until she dyed her hair blonde, wore shiny red platform heels to school and stopped answering our phone calls. Having said that, she still seemed like the sugar nice peacemaker from our years of frolicking on the monkey bars.

"Hey Mason! How were your holidays? Fun?" She cooed.

I cleared my throat and buried my head deeper into my locker. "It was," I stalled for something to say, "um, fabulous. I had a great time."

"Oh." Kailyn twirled her flaxen hair several times around her finger, then let it unwind into a cute curl, "So I guess you went somewhere, right?"

Shrugging, I said vaguely, "Here and there."

Suddenly, Kailyn stood straight up and glanced briefly at her wrist, even though there was nothing there. "Well, gotta dash! I've got, what, Chemistry next? Or was it Spanish...? Anyway, I'll see you later!" And with that, Kailyn literally bounced down the corridor to her locker or wherever she was going.

Kailyn was nice enough, don't get me wrong, but these days she seemed a bit... ditzy. Ditzy bimbos were definitely not my type to befriend. Besides, I preferred to either keep to myself or hang around a person in the middle-class rung this year. It would make life so much easier. If it was anyone higher class than that, then I imagined that he or she would take up a lot of time. Especially if they were anything like Kailyn or her gang—

—oh shoot. There was Javana Walkner. She was only one of Kailyn's many friends. Javana was the slightest bit like Kailyn, but, er, should I say a whole lot more of nasty and less of the geniality.

Javana strode past boldly, narrowing her eyes at me, then passed right by.

This was going to be a tough day.

A slightly built, rather loopy looking teacher walked into the room. Or rather, should I say, stumbled. Her hair, or what she had left of it, was a sad looking brown of a feathery texture.

Catching sight of the class patently staring at her near-bald head, the teacher clarified stiltedly, "Cancer."

Nobody reacted, but I could detect the two dozen people sitting around me were feeling slightly perturbed and tense.

The Lit teacher clapped her hands thrice and ambled in a circle around the classroom, staring at a few unlucky students square in the eyes.

Finally, about five minutes later, the teacher reached the front of the classroom again and scribbled on the board as she annunciated, "My name is Jacinta Stamatelopoulos, and I am your English and Literature teacher for the year!" We could all feel her zestful bravado travelling from the very front of the room through to a timid-looking Miranda Zhuang perched on her chair in the far back corner. Ms. Stam-something-sometimg was a loud, loud person for someone who had cancer previously and couldn't walk straight.

"So! Shall we begin class with a roll call?" No one replied, as she had blatantly hoped. Ms. Stam continued blabbering, "Piedro Alvarez? Ah, the striking young lad over there! Mitchell Bailey? You would make a very nice Romeo, I see! Cindy Collins? My mother was called Cindy. Tina Collins? There is a striking similarity between you and Cindy! Are you twins, by any chance?"

Throughout the whole roll call, my mind had wandered off into who-knows-what-land. Ms. Stam was far from monotonous, but also far from sane. It wasn't until she began calling my name that my mind slowly picked itself back up.

"Mason Delahunty? Mason Delahunty?" The teacher paused her hollering for a second as she looked quizzically at the class. "Is he absent today?"

At that statement, the entire class fell silent, apart from the rustling of someone's pen on paper.

Begrudgingly, I raised my hand like a flag pole that suffered an unfortunate accident with a pickup truck.

Ms. Stam simply nodded her head at me and declared, "I see a Demetrius in you, Mason. It's not often I come across a natural Demetrius." This raised eyebrows, and someone coughed throatily.

Since no one decided to defend my pride for me, I did it, or rather, tried to, myself. "Ms. Stam—uh, excuse me, but I'm not a... I'm not a..."

It was strange that I couldn't get the well-rehearsed words out. This situation had happened to me many times. Too many times that a person should endure. There was once the time when I met one of Mum's many friends, and introduced myself. When I left the room, I heard the visitor say 'what a nice boy he was'.

Whenever people point out the peculiarity of my name, I always point the finger at Mum. If it wasn't for Mum's sudden urge to name me after a past boyfriend (or possibly my biological father, wherever he is), then I wouldn't be constantly explaining to people that I'm a girl. But honestly, how hard can it be to tell if someone is female or not?

"She's a female." In coincidental synchronisation, heads turned and even more eyebrows, if possible, were raised.

My eyes skitted across the room, searching for the saviour (or perpetrator depending on your point of view), and my eyes landed on someone who I never expected would defend me or my pride.

It was Kailyn, again.

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⏰ Last updated: Nov 02, 2011 ⏰

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