Jae Ham
"I only have a few copies of this handout, so kindly share with your seatmate."
"Yes, ma'am," choruses the whole class. I'm one of the unlucky students who doesn't have a handout, and I spot a copy in Sage's hands, so I swallow my pride as I turn to her. "Heart."
"Mm?" She shifts in her seat to look at me. I ask her: "If you don't mind, may I sit closer to you? So we can share the handout..." Her brown eyes seem to assess me surreptitiously, and after a second or two, she nods. "Okay."
A few minutes later, our female professor in Developmental Psychology asks, "Can somebody please give me the name of the psychologist who has a theory regarding one's 'shadow'?"
That's a question for advance readers. "Sir Ham?" Crap. I really hate attention in this situation.I stand up reluctantly because I don't know the answer. When the professor notices this, she scolds me to sit back down before calling another student. "Miss Heart?"
Sage rises from her seat. "It's Carl Jung, ma'am," she complies modestly.
"Good! Correct as always. Keep that up, Miss Heart. Now in regards with Miss Heart's answer, can somebody please tell me something about this theory?" I'm hungry.. I want to go home.
I glance at Sage,and she's doing it again; she's discreetly appraising everyone's every move, as if she's expecting someone to know the answer, and when she certifies that nobody does, she lifts her hand midair. "Yes, Miss Heart."
Sage stands up again. "The Shadow is the unknown "Dark Side" of our personality. According to my understanding, The Shadow is the side that we don't want others to see."
"Impressive, Miss Heart. I expect a lot of things from you this year."
I hear someone from the fifth row murmur a hostile "Show off" followed by "Suck up." I ball my hands into fists on the long table, then sneak a glimpse of Sage next to me. Her shoulders are taut and stiff while her fingers are visibly shaking, so she plants her palms on her lap to dissuade them from trembling any further.
Another reproachful whisper resonates but is barely audible for the professor to hear. "Teacher's pet." I glance at Sage. She looks perfectly composed now, like she deleted every trace of nervousness from her earlier stance. "Heart, are you--" "I'm okay. I'm okay," she mumbles, more to herself than to me. As if coming out of a trance, she cranes her neck to look at me. "I'm fine."
"I can talk to them if you're bothered." "Well, I'm not bothered, so please leave it alone."
"Why are you whispering so low?" "I just don't want to make a scene, Ham."
"You look ridiculous, you know that?" "At least I'm not alone. You're whispering,too." At this, Sage's eyes disappear as she stifles her giggles. It's the first time I see her like this. And I have to admit, I like how she laughs. It's the kind of laughter you want to join in.
Come lunchtime, I notice Sage stays glued to her seat. "Heart? Aren't you going to eat?" Her gaze is focused on her green phone's screen. "Heart?" I try again while putting on my backpack.
She blinks, thrusts the device into her bag, then lifts her chin to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, what?" "I was asking if you were gonna have lunch?" "Oh." "Unless you already have plans, would you like to join me and my friends?" I suggest.
"You're sure I won't be a bother," she says carefully.
"Believe me, you'll be anything but that," I tell her with a lopsided grin.
We step out of the classroom, walk along the hallway,descend some flights of stairs--she keeps complaining about the physical exertion the entire time, but I find it endearing--and eventually we reach the school garden; Springfield University Garden. Even from a mere ten feet away, I can see my friends at our usual round marble table--Res, Core, Cole, Arrow, Chess, Knox, Penn, Flair, and Cleo. Their backs are facing me but I know it's them; we'd been friends for more than ten years.
Once I get close enough, I announce, "Guys,I have someone who'll be joining us for lunch today." All nine of them exchange weird looks among one another, then they all look at me as though I'd grown two extra heads in the span of three seconds.
Res shakes his head. "So it's finally happened. You've been taking drugs."
"What?" I recoil as if he just slapped my face.
Chess glares at me. "I thought we were friends, Jae. How can you do this to me?"
I blink repetitively, stupefied by everyone's reactions. "Do what, Chess?" I dare ask.
"You started doing drugs without me? Who's your dealer? Is it cocaine or marijuana? I bet you got your stuff from Miller.That guy is always trying to blindside--" "I'M NOT ON DRUGS!"
"Oh, Jae. You know we'll always support you, no matter how bad it gets," says Penn woefully while Chess begins to braid her wavy ginger tresses into two long plaits.
"I've been waiting for you to find an outlet for your loneliness," chimes in Flair as she experiments different makeup techniques on Arrow's face. Now this is confusing. Arrow is the fashion design major here. Why isn't he the one using Flair as a guinea pig instead of vice versa?
Arrow nods in agreement. "It's just that, Jae...this is really weird, even for you."
"What.the.hell.are.you.idiots.talking.about?!?" I demand, growing annoyed.
Core and Cole start to arrange the Chinese takeout on the spacious round table. There are ten paper bags in all. Maybe I should have invited Sage in advance so there could have been enough for eleven people.
Knox picks up some chopsticks, clearly unfamiliar with the instruments. "How the heck do you eat with these contraptions?" she gripes, clicking the sticks together. Pretty soon, she gives up on understanding chopsticks and starts drumming them over the takeout boxes as if they are drums for her own amusement. "Rock and Roll!" she cheers,t hen looks at me. "Look behind you, genius. There's no one there."
I spin around to confirm Knox's wry accusation. She's right; Sage has disappeared like a puff of smoke and I don't even notice. No wonder everyone's been treating me like a deranged mental patient.
Where did she go? And why did she leave?
