I hate school.Especially high school.
They say it's the best time of your life. That one day, you'll look back on it with a smile and laugh at the "good ol' days."
But not me.
There's nothing good about waking up every morning to put on a fake smile, force small talk with strangers who'd laugh behind your back the moment you turn away, and survive a jungle where teachers pretend not to hear the bullying just so the class can stay "peaceful."
I hate how we're forced to interact, like being in a group chat where everyone has inside jokes—except you.
Am I jealous of them? Of course I am.Maybe if I was taller.Maybe if I wasn't so awkward.Maybe if I didn't flinch every time someone raised their voice.
Maybe if I just shut up and studied harder, life would be easier.
"Okay, class. Before we proceed to the discussion on mitosis, I want you all to look at the board," our biology teacher, Mr. Dela Cruz, said as he scribbled down cell cycle phases.
His back was turned. The moment his marker touched the whiteboard, the sound of cheap sneakers shuffling behind me made my heart drop.
A voice followed.
"Hey. Give me your phone."
I didn't have to look. I already knew who it was.
Daniel Montefalco.
The class clown. The wannabe influencer. The alpha of our group of nobodies—except he had enough muscle and cockiness to climb the social food chain.
Last time he borrowed my phone, he bought 700 pesos worth of game credits. I had to starve for three days and pretend it was by choice.
"Didn't you get caught last time?" I said, voice barely above a whisper.
He laughed. A few other students laughed with him. Not with me—never with me.
"Oh? Now you're talking back?" His voice dropped. "I said give me your phone, idiot."
"I don't—"
BOOM.
My head snapped to the side. Desk shook. My cheek stung. A sharp inhale of breath filled the room, but no one moved.
This is why I hate school.
After class, I was staring at the cracked corner of my phone screen. Daniel had used it to buy something again. He didn't even hide the receipts. Just laughed as he walked off, fist bumping his buddies like he did something heroic.
At least I got it back.
My "happy hour" starts now anyway. I went home straight after the last bell, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the girls looking at me like I didn't exist. I locked myself in my room, slid my phone under my pillow like it was some kind of treasure, and opened my laptop.
Anime time.
I pulled up the latest romance anime I'd been waiting all week for—Blue Box.God, it was so good. It hurt in the best way.Watching the protagonist chase love while still pushing himself in sports, being soft and determined at the same time…I wondered if I could ever be like that.
I blinked.
3:04 AM.
"WTF," I whispered. "I'm dead."
6:40 AM.
My alarm was on snooze.My brain was mush.I'd slept at 3 AM because Blue Box is fire, and now karma was burning my ass.
I threw on my uniform, skipped breakfast, and bolted. My bag was half-open, notebooks flapping like wings, and I was praying the guard wouldn't lock the gate on me today.
And that's when it happened.
THUMP.
I crashed into someone at full speed.
My bag exploded. My elbow hit the concrete. I groaned.
"I'm so—"
"I'm sorry!" a soft, clear voice said at the same time.
Wait.That voice…
I looked up. And there she was.
Mia Santos.
The newly-elected secretary of the student council. Our class's golden girl. Perfect grades, clean ponytail, soft eyes, always smiling, like she stepped out of a slice-of-life anime.
I blinked twice. She was holding out her hand.
"Why are you apologizing?" she asked with a gentle laugh. "I was the one who bumped into you."
She helped me up. Her fingers were soft.
"Wait… you're Kira, right?" she said.
My mouth dried up.
She… she knows my name?
"You're Kira Rivera, right?"