Lost With You

Chapter Eight

The weekdays approached faster than predicted, and as always, there would be another round of homework to be distributed in any of the classes we took this week. I shouldn't be complaining though, since Jonathan told me about his upcoming literature project which would be graded. I, on the other hand, was lucky enough to proceed with my usual classwork, common in Math lessons.
    My other lecturers would usually be going through topics while giving us thorough explanation. My math teacher, Ms. Gabrielle—or was it Gabriela? Well, whoever she was—she definitely had a unique way of passing time with us. Instead of educating us on the latest, unfamiliar concept, she would instruct us to read up on it in class and do the tutorial.
    She would patiently wait for us to finish all the questions before checking our works one by one meticulously and marking, including the iconic but unnecessary grade in a circle on the top right corner of the sheet. She would only teach us properly after looking through each and every one of our workbooks or practice papers.
    Sure, this wasn't particularly a peculiar teaching method of a high school teacher, but in my opinion, the process was quite slow albeit a productive one. We understood much better this way but even some of my classmates complained about the snail-like pacing of her classes.
    An advantage she let slip by was the fact that while we self-studied, we were allowed to listen to our favorite songs played in a loop, of course, only with the use of headphones or a pair of earpiece. We didn't need another laughable situation to occur like last time, said the teacher, whose name conflicted me.
    Apparently, I was the only one who didn't understand at the point of time when she mentioned it. I only fully apprehended what she was stating about when we left for our next subject. The students reminded one another about the time where a boy (who had graduated) who left his phone unplugged of his headphone wires only for rather inappropriate sounds to leak out, shocking everyone.
    The only thing that puzzled me was why anyone would even listen to an audio from some pornography they watched or listened to at home while doing something so out-of-topic like schoolwork. I would never really know, and frankly, I would gladly let the answer go by unheard.
    I pretended that such an existing past scenario was made-up and went along my way to Laboratory 3 as stated on my timetable, where my class was supposed to meet up with our science teacher. As promised from the last time we saw him, our next chemistry lesson would be practical and hands-on.
    Funny enough, though I was the earliest to arrive, I ended up being late for lesson. Reason? The venue changed unbeknownst to me and so I ended up in Jonathan's biology class.
    The moment he saw me, he was understandably perplexed as to why I was turning up for a subject that was scheduled after my lunch. I was no doubt embarrassed since not only would I end up five minutes late for my actual class but I also walked into a room full of strangers—not counting Jonathan, of course—whose loud conversations died down as if I came in with pajamas on.
    I had to ask the teacher who drew nearer to me with an eyebrow raised where my chemistry teacher was. And oh, was a 2-hit combo of misfortune not enough? Well, it really sucked to be me today since I had no idea what my chemistry teacher's name was except for the fact that his name started with a V.
    "U-um . . . can I look for, uh . . ." I struggled to come up with what I could say next.
    "I can't help you if you're unsure of who you're even finding," replied the teacher who placed her hands on her hips, though she waited for an answer.
    Jonathan left from his laboratory stool easily as his feet had already been rooted onto the ground after seating. He moved toward us as students followed his movement with their unblinking eyes.
    "Mr. Vincent's in Laboratory 1. Faith is there as well," he casually stated and patted my shoulder with a smile that seemed to chuckle at my mistake. "Better hurry, Jere."
    "What the—" I refrained myself from questioning to consume time and just thanked him promptly. Bowing to the teacher and apologizing as well, I dashed out of the lab, tripping over my foot but somehow managing to stay my ground.
    The faint laughter replayed in my mind as I held the urge to curse at them. Though I was running down the stairs with my pumping heart, I calmed myself down with the thought of getting to see someone I knew in class. And as a matter of fact, Faith was in most of my classes out of everyone else.
    I scurried into the room, interrupting the already ongoing lessons and bowed my head to Mr. Vincent. "I'm sorry for being late, Mr. Vincent."
    "Oh? Jeremy," he stated calmly at my sudden intrusion, placing the test tube which contained a dark blue liquid back into its empty hole in the rectangular rack. The blue-black liquid sat still among the array of vibrant fluids, standing out the most.
    "I thought I was clear about my instructions in the group chat," he drawled once again in an emotionless tone, almost seeming as if he was bored with our conversation.
    "Group chat?" I inquired. "I'm sorry but I didn't know that there was one for our chemistry lessons."
    Mr. Vincent looked at me without any reaction, eyes still half opened and the formation of a thin line on his lips. He was clearly either unamused with what he thought was brilliant acting or he just genuinely didn't have much care about my reasoning.
    "Morris," he called out, dragging his name. "Please find out about his contact details and add him in. It's already the second week."
    "Yes, sir," a reply came from the back of the science laboratory, lacking any sort of guilt in his voice.
    Mr. Vincent then slowly turned back to me. "Find a seat." He then continued his teaching without another word.
    I looked back to face the row of tables that were nearly occupied. Everyone sat in pairs, except for the dark haired girl who I was longing to see after what had happened before I had burst through the door. Faith was also looking at me, waving her hand at a low angle to invite me over next to her. Her gentle but small smile accompanied her kind gesture as she welcomed me to be her lab partner.
    I didn't hesitate to walk over with a somewhat relieved smile, knowing that I had someone I was familiar with among these students with stereotypical personalities, grouped in clichéd categories. This was new to me, however. I hadn't seen her the first time I joined my classmates for chemistry lessons. That was more or less why I was shocked to hear that Faith had the same chemistry period as I did.
    I guess you could say . . . I was starting to lose Faith.
    That is so lame, I told myself, ironically stifling a giggle, earning a strange look from Faith. I slowly covered my mouth to hide the smile creeping onto my lips and waved my hand at her rapidly, as if to tell her that she should ignore my shenanigans.
    In return, she let out a silent sigh and indeed tried not to be distracted with whatever I was keeping to myself. She might have been irritated if I told her what I assumed was a common pun to hear. With such a simple name named after a noun from the dictionary, poor Faith must have had her name joked around with innumerous times. She would give the same mirthless chuckle she would give to others who dared mock her name, even if it was for fun.
    "Wanna exchange numbers after class?" she suggested in a low whisper as she leaned over. "Just in case Morris doesn't do anything, I can give you updates on the class."
    I nodded with a smile, relieved that I was able to receive at least Faith's contact number. Aside from Jonathan, no one else among his group of friends made the first move of asking for my number. Though I did ask for Jonathan's number of my own accord in a rather too-straightforward manner, I wasn't the type of person to request for one's number, especially when the relationship between me and the other party was only neutral.
    Our lesson in the laboratory went by comparatively lengthy. I only found out after we had only fifteen minutes left before our break that, selfishly enough, Mr. Vincent was the only one conducting an experiment. All of us watched, feeling either bored or longing to be in his place. Unsurprisingly, Faith was one of the people who was close to daydreaming while I itched to touch different apparatuses.
    We were the last two to leave the classroom after everyone else but the teacher himself. I wasn't expecting to exchange any sort of words with Mr. Vincent but his voice called out from behind. "I'll only say this once, knowing how Morris is like—our next class tomorrow will also be here. You have no reason to be late now."
    Again, his voice droned on the edge of dullness, slow and prolonged. With this type of teacher lecturing us, we probably wouldn't even be done with half the topics before exams were to intrude our already hectic schedule. Not to mention (but not worth mentioning), Mr. Vincent seemed like the type of teacher who would seem nonchalant about how well or how poor an individual would do.
    Basically, those teachers who'd always say, "Well, it's your grades, not mine," as if it was like listening to a broken record which would rewind the same phrase over and over again until it would get irritating. I mean, don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I thought he was a bad teacher. On the contrary, aside from his dead and non-existent energy, Mr. Vincent was pretty decent.
    I only acknowledged him with a quick nod before turning back to face the door. We took our time strolling to the staircase before actually giving our numbers to one another. I was hoping that we could both head to the cafeteria for lunch as well, but much to my dismay, Faith had homework to do. Though I doubted that her assignment needed to be passed up by today, I dismissed my uncertainty. She might not look the type to delay work but I was sure she had her own reasons. And I didn't plan on prying on her explanations.
    "Sorry," she apologized effortlessly, only a hint of rue hid beneath her flat tone. "I'd recommend you to invite the others instead, but even I haven't heard anything from them this morning."
    "No, it's okay," I smiled, despite feeling a sudden impact of loneliness. "Good luck with homework though!"
    She gave me her thanks and went off, footsteps echoed shortly as she walked down the stairs in no hurry. Our break wasn't as long as we always hoped for, so I was slightly taken aback by her calm gait. Nevertheless, I tried not to think about anything pessimistic.
    I decided, since the only other number I could dial was Jonathan's, I would call him instead. I tolerantly waited for his voice to interrupt the consistent default ringing. Strange enough, he picked up a lot later than expected. I was even about to cancel the call.
    "Hey, Jonathan. Where are you at? Wanna meet for lunch?" I casually asked.
    "Sorry, I can't."
    Hearing his immediate rejection almost shocked me. I was so used to him agreeing that I didn't consider him to even disagree for once.
    "Oh—"
    "Remember that project I told you about? Yeah, this might take up a lot more time than I thought it would."
    Though I felt oddly hurt, I continued to speak with enthusiasm anyway.
    "Oh yeah! Good luck with that!"
    "I'll also be coming home late. You can go first, Jeremy."
    "Right . . ." My liveliness abated way too obviously to my liking. I promptly recovered from the lack of exuberance and replaced my once cheerful tone with an almost sheepish one that I tried my utmost best to hold back. "All the best though. You got this, dude."
    "Thanks."
    "See ya."
    "B—"
    I clicked the red icon which disconnected our voices before Jonathan could even finish his farewell. I didn't know why I was so agitated from such a thing. When Faith left, I didn't recall being so disgruntled. Why was it that only anger overpowered any other emotions now?
     I heaved a great sigh, an exhale that carried such dissatisfaction that even I was unsure if I was the one who let out such an exasperated breath. The hunger that bothered me dissipated and the loss of appetite struck me.
    "I'm being ridiculous," I said to myself as I furrowed my eyebrows.
    Hitting the side of my fist against the wall weakly, I dug and covered my hands with the insides of my pockets. I would have never thought about such an idea, but going to the library now and reading some novels seemed to interest me at this point of time. Hopefully, my frustration wouldn't last long—heck, I didn't know why I should be affected by this.
    So, why was I?