cliché ➵ tmad

15. Questionable Analysis.

“So Beyoncé’s not here, eh?” Mrs. Davenport joked as she’s glanced over the desk next to me—after she keeps looking at the door throughout the ninety minutes, to see will Rocket burst in any minute.

Yep, Rocket weren’t lying when he planned his full-day absence for today. Though school isn’t done for the day just yet, it feels out of place, than yesterday. Honestly, I was expecting Rocket Ventura to approach here during this class halftime, come up with an excuse on why he’s tardy, verbal messaging Steven across the room, pull off plagiarism as I’m doing today’s assignment, and become sensually devious by rubbing and walking his fingers on my thigh. Now the bell for second period is gonna alarm us in about five to four minutes, and I’m wondering how that’ll go—besides the teacher’s will become shocked minutes after class begin.

“Steven, Maurice, since you guys are very close to him, is the poor fellow is okay?” the teacher asked, in sympathy.

And yes, it’s surprising that Steven and Rocket won’t seem close anymore, any time soon.

“I don’t know, and I pretty much don’t care at this moment,” Steven growled. “Ask Mel. She kinda know everything.”

Just why in the hell he’s assuming that I study Rocket very well? I’m sorry that yesterday, him and Rocket got to arguing and Rocket rejected him with his melancholy feelings. And I’m sorry that he’s feeling internally pissed when Rocket cross his mind… but shit. Steven didn’t have to sound a little hostile and assume I know everything about Rocket. Because for once, almost everyone is sighting over me, including Dana. Minus everyone else, that’s what I’m nervous about.

“Well Melanie, what wrong with Rocket?” Mrs Davenport turned the questioned to me.

I just shrugged like I’m confused. I had to lie because I still don’t think Rocket want to be the center of attention; especially when or if he become present tomorrow.

But as of now, I have no newer update on how’s Rocket. When my alarm alert me to wake up, the left side of my bed was empty—indicating that he snuck out early than he should. On my way here, I called him, but his phone sent me straight to voicemail. Texted him, but he hasn’t replied. And minutes before my phone got confiscated by this teacher, I even checked Rocket’s Instagram. There was some changes there; like his following count was from two-hundred to now thirty, his follower count gained a thousand (now, 16k), and currently down to one post on his profile—and that’s him and I’s black and white mirror selfie. All of his high quality and sexy—I mean, decent, selfies, is effaced.

Homie is depressed.

When some people in this class started to get up and roam around because the bell will ring sooner… and strangely and suspiciously…

Dana approached to me, without any type of warning. Y’know I had to grow nervous, as soon she sat down in Rocket’s vacant desk and politely acknowledge, “Hey,”