Nathanael stands in the doorway, his expression a mix of nonchalance and amusement as his stare shifts quickly between me and back to his phone. "Morning," he mutters, barely acknowledging my presence.
I glare at him, unimpressed by my cousin's intrusion. "Perfect, just what I need - to be met by your face first thing in the morning."
He has this bad habit of barging in without even knocking whenever he wants to. It really bothers me every time, but I guess it's kind of my fault too since I forget to properly close my door, whose lock is defective. If I don't close it carefully, it stays loose. It's as reliable as a paper umbrella in a monsoon.
Nathanael shrugs, "Your life's full of blessings, isn't it? So, what's got you all disheveled this fine morning?" He asks as if he cares.
I hesitate, reluctant to share, but the remnants of the dream left me feeling vulnerable and uneasy. "I just - I had this messed-up dream." I reply to him, unsure if I want to keep telling him about it. "Nevermind."
Nathanael raises an eyebrow. "Sure, baby-pants. By the way, your mom's asking if you're up already, just came to let ya know."
Of course, she is checking up on me. She can't let a single minute pass by without showing her overconcern. Even though I know how to get up and get ready for the day by myself she has to worry about me. Anyway, what I seriously can't just let pass right now is the disrespect from Nathan's lame insult.
Defensively, I try to explain myself, and I say "try" because my blabber next is clearly not doing the job. "B-but it's not just the dream; it felt real. Like, something's really off with the route I take from school..."
Nathanael leans against the doorframe, regarding me with a mixture of skepticism and mild concern. "You're overthinking it. Maybe lay off the horror movies before bedtime, huh?"
"I don't even like horror movies, but thanks for the insightful advice." I reply sarcastically. But seriously, what could I expect from him?
"You're welcome." Nathanael smirks and leaves the room, leaving me alone with my anxious thoughts and my mom calling me from downstairs.
I yell a "coming" as I grab my clothes to get ready, rushing to the main bathroom in hopes it is still available.
The feeling of dread follows me throughout my morning routine, and I can't help but wonder if the dream is a reflection of something deeper. I've read articles on psychology suggesting that dreams often reflect our memories and fears subconsciously, so maybe that's what it really is. A subconscious reflection.
Finally choosing to shrug it off, I leave for school, ignoring the feeling and shouldering the weight of the day ahead.
⎯⎯⎯✧࿓☾⎯⎯⎯
Today's class is worse than a stint in detention or a parent-teacher conference. I can't even count the times my head almost fell completely over my desk. I keep trying to stay awake. Come on me, I've got to remain awake! I'm giving it my best shot, but even I have my limits.
I can't help a yawn that escapes as we turn the page in our textbooks to continue listening to Mr. Bell's monotonous and seemingly never-ending lecture. We're currently exploring the passages of the 13th and 14th centuries battles for Independence that the kingdom of Scotland had against England.
I have to make sure I won't lose focus on the many lines this textbook has, but it's impossible! Each line blurs into the next, and what appears to be a promising endpoint turns out to be nothing more than a comma or, worse, a semicolon.
My attention is slipping away.
"Psst." a whisper emerges, and I know it's coming from behind me. Who is sitting back there again? Anyway, I ignore it.
"Psst, mate," the same voice persists, accompanied by a tap on my shoulder to secure my attention.
Argh. Fine, tap me if you want. I'll just have to put up a little more resistance. I'm not giving in so easily, especially when the teacher hasn't looked up in ages. That just means it won't be long until he does. Surely he will once he gets to paragraph 7, and we're already in paragraph 5, if my count is not wrong, that is.
"Heeyy, dammit, what was his name again? ...Oh right! Ralph! Come on, man..."
He continues with increasingly desperate whispers. And that's not even my name!
I start wondering if he'll ever give it a rest, so I turn slightly and hiss, "What!?" in a half-whisper.
"Who's talking over there?" Mr. Bell interrupts his lecture, piercing my sense of dread with a stern gaze. The entire class reacts, some jolting awake from their stupor, while others follow our teacher's gaze to identify the source of the "interruption." Like seriously, I barely even spoke.
"Uh..." I pretend to know nothing and focus on avoiding any kind of eye contact by burying my head in my book.
"Randy, Hamish, please keep it silent and listen closely. This material will appear in the exam," Mr. Bell says, adjusting his round glasses, mouthing something that is probably a profanity as he reaches for his notes.
"Um, excuse me, professor," the boy behind me, who apparently is Hamish, speaks. I flinch for the second time during this lecture, anticipating whatever he's about to say next.
"Yes, Hamish," Mr. Bell replies with a patient tone that resounds with irony.
"I was just wondering if I could retrieve my pencil. It happened to fall right next to my classmate's desk, and I was asking him to pass it to me."
Really? He bothered me for that?
"We're here to read, not write. Let's maintain silence, shall we?" Mr. Bell responds, his tone filled with a hint of irritation.
Hamish sighs, his exhalation a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "Yes, sir," he mumbles.
"Thank you. Now, let's continue with The Treaty..."
"Pstt." The soft sound repeats, a persistent and distracting interruption towards me, personally.
Is he serious?
"Randy, I'm sorry, would you mind passing it?" He persists
"Could you please be quiet?" I basically plead.
"I will, man. Just pass it, please." Hamish implores, his desperation growing.
I can't say I'm entirely convinced, but I move to see the pencil on the floor from my desk. There it is. I guess it will be better to pass it, or he'll likely keep insisting. I don't want to get in trouble for the time being.
"So?" he asks.
"Okay," I hesitated, then slowly bent over. First, I shift my feet to push it a little closer. Then, I extend my arm to pick it up. I couldn't help but notice something unusual─ the light from the window next to me seems to cast my shadow differently from the others in my row.
Not only that, it seems more as if the rest had a shadow casting from their whole desks and mine didn't.
"What's going on?" I mutter for myself.
"Randy!" Mr. Bell's voice calling my name snaps me back to an upright position almost on automatic.
I don't reply, but my attention is enough for him to continue, "Don't interrupt again, or I'll have no choice but to send you to detention."
I nod and swallow hard. That was a close one.
I could hear Hamish muttering curses from my back, but I wouldn't succumb anymore. Whatever he needs he can pick it up later.