phantasm

03

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Boring. Whatever the teacher had taught for the last hour drew a blank in my unresponsive mind. Nothing made sense as I hovered my eyes over the textbook laying in front of me, the square columns getting smaller and smaller the more I stared at it.

The ceiling fans swirled a cooling climate around the chatty classroom, paper planes floating and diving dips in the air as soon as the lecturer walked out, the hum of social life rising in every second given.

"Nishinoya. Stop-" Tsukki yanked the carolina booklet out of his hands, "copying my homework."

"One more question, just one more!" he shrieked loudly, pulling it back and flipping the pages before scrawling words onto his own notebook. "Okay..." he sat in thought, "now that I'm done, I'll lend it over to Tanaka-san now-"

"Give it back-" Tsukishima gritted his teeth while Yamaguchi passed out somewhere at the corner of the classroom, his expression as dead as can be. I wavered past my surroundings and stared out the shutters, watching the floaty clouds drift by as they swam silently on the overturn sea.

The view outside was near a shimmering lake, the tiny warehouses popping up on sandy hills of rocks as chinese fringe flowers rose at the uncut strips of wet grass. Far off the bridge stood coloured buildings, the little apartments and houses dotting the shading green hills. That's...home.

"Akaashi."

I stopped tapping my ballpoint pen on the casing, lifting my gaze upwards to the figure examining me.

Dyed blond hair swept down his neck, the roots of his bleached strands blackened like charcoal powder. A tinted gleam of his pearly golden eyes returned the sun's dazzle as he jammed a blue console PSP into the pocket of his red jersey, waiting for a response.

I should say something. Anything.

"Hey."

"About the report summary," he acknowledged my tired expression, "The volume of haiku is in my satchel. I've chosen some poems in which we can answer the following questions that our homeroom teacher assigned."

"Okay," I squeaked, the dizzy spin of boredom wearing my circulating thoughts down. It was like losing the gravity that held me, the strings finally unravelling the grip that kept me in touch.

Floating. I'm floating.

"After school then? Come over to my house if that's okay for you," he shrugged. "A few people are going to be there too if you don't mind."

"Oh- there's-- going to be a small crowd?" I said meekly. I certainly don't want to be in a group of people. I don't have friends, and I don't want them. "How many people?"

"Just two," Kenma surveyed the scenery outside the window. "Three in the afternoon then. I'll prepare snacks and drinks. The address would be given through text. See you."

"Ah okay," I wiggled my toes. "I'll be there."

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Kenma's house was slightly larger than mine, with flamboyant fish lanterns fluttering the chain-link fence at the front yard. Fern green walls framed his bedroom, olive pads laid on the wooden flooring. The long table was a huge mess, with open books and pencils scattering near aluminium cans of royal milk tea and muchiga, gaming switches plugged into the cables of the TV set.