Clark's Universe of the Ordinary

The New Student

"Class, you have a new classmate. Why don't you introduce yourself, young man."

Everything's a blur. But I could hear the faint sounds of electric fans and children quietly whispering. "Where am I?", I thought. I rubbed my eyes to see my small hands, and my small body. Am I a kid? Am I inside a kid's body? Gradeschooler, maybe? How is this even possible, wasn't I supposed to be going for work?

"Are you okay?", I could hear a kind sounding middle aged woman saying. I just said yes, maintained composure despite not knowing what is going on, and started to introduce myself.

"My name's Clark Dela Cruz, and I transferred from--",
Huh? what's happening? Why are there tears in my eyes? Come on self, speak! All I could do was stay quiet and wipe my uncontrollable tears.

"What a nerd. Can't even say a word.", said one kid. I remember that voice. Is that Markus? The notorious Section A bully? Is that really him? And the teacher, is that Mrs. Rosales? Then I started to recognize the place; the bluish-white walls, the overly decorated corkboard, the faint sound of the Narra tree leaves fluttering as the wind passes by. It's the classroom I've been in when I was in fifth grade, St. Scholastica, the honor section.

Then, does this mean I'm in my own fifth grader body? What's even happening here?

Then instantly, everything was moving in fast forward. I can't explain this to be honest. It feels like I'm in my own body, unable to control my actions, just watching my fifth grader self move on its own. I remembered everything.

And when significant moments happen, everything moves in normal pace again.

Markus pushing me in the corridor, making me slip to the floor and break my glasses, and constantly calling me crybaby. Mr. Domingo comparing me to a weak dying bird because of my poor performance in his physical education class. Anna and Elise teasing how I'll have no friends because of how weird my hobbies are.

I didn't care back then, I knew I was strong and didn't need those unnecessary people. Then I saw my young self always crying; at the side of the stairs, in the second floor comfort room cubicle, and in my bedroom, covered in blankets.

-

I've always liked petting and adopting stray cats. Even if my parents wanted me to stop bringing in cats to our home, sometimes I still tried to sneak in one or two in my bedroom. But I've always been caught.

There's just something about those furry creatures. They're caring enough to not put you in too much pressure to constantly take care of, and you know they're independent— can go places, and leave for a while, but you know they'll still come back to you at the end of the day.

Humans to me, on the other hand, are frustrating. I know this makes me sound arrogant, but this includes myself. We're just too darn difficult to take care of. This attitude of always wanting affection, care, love, building relationships, maintaining a status in society, is tiring. And what's tough is that I've already thought of these things when I was young. And since I was bullied, my antisocial behavior just grew even more. And my fondness of cats, grew also all the more.

I've always thought to myself, who needs unnecessary people, when you could have a handful of trustworthy friends, your family and a cat.

Anyway, while this spirit-like grade school life montage of sort is currently still on going, I've been directed to this particular moment in my life that I won't forget.

One of my cats, I called Frederick, is being carried by Markus, bringing him to the side of a river. It was raining, in the outer suburb streets in the cold afternoon with little to no people and I see myself drenched from the rain, but I didn't care. I was struggling to go near him, then I realized I was being pinned down by Markus' allies, or minions, as I've called them, Ian and Gillian. I hated them to the core, but this is just taking things too far. I shouted, "Let Frederick go! Why are you doing this?! Bully me! I'm the weirdo! Leave the cat alone!"

Markus laughed out loud, almost sounding demonic. With Frederick in his left hand, pinching his back carrying him like some disgusting garbage, he went near me.

Lifting my head as he grips my hair as I'm being pinned down to the wet concrete floor, he whispered, "Why am I doing this? It's because I hate weirdos like you. That's all."

"And I hate cats." Then he threw Frederick down the raging river.

Everything started to blur. All I could hear was me shouting, and Markus, Ian and Gillian laughing. It was horrible, even my spirit self could tear up just remembering it. I closed my eyes and drowned myself in the noise of everything. The rain, the laughters of those assh*les, and the sound of myself crying.

.
.
.
"Clark!"
"Clark!"
"Clark!"

The shouts grew louder and louder to the point my ears can't even take anymore.

I opened my eyes, still blurry and quite heavy feeling, and sat up slowly from the floor. It was a wooden floor, there's no rain and it's morning. I fell asleep on the kitchen floor. Odd, but at least I'm back in my apartment. Everything hurts though; my whole body, and that feeling as if you've been drained from working too much.

"It was all a dream," I told myself, with a sigh of relief.

"No, it wasn't," said someone.

And that someone,
while standing on the kitchen counter looking at me,
was the cat.

.