If I were ever asked which day of the week I dislike the most, I'd say Monday. And no, it's not because I'm copying that fat orange cat's line—it's simply because, after two days of relaxing, going back to school feels tedious.
I know that for someone with my mental age, complaining about this wouldn't make much sense, but right now I'm a fifteen-year-old student, so I can. I have both the right and the duty to complain.
And with it being 7:30 on a Monday, I found myself on my way to school.
My accident had happened on Friday, so I stayed in the hospital until Sunday morning. That meant I didn't miss any classes. Looking at it positively, you could say I got lucky—I didn't have to catch up on any subjects.
Thinking about it, another difference between both worlds would be the way of getting to school. In my previous life, I had to take up to two different vehicles just to get there. Here, I can hop on the train and be there in minutes—or even just walk.
Since I'm at it, I should mention another difference: the education level. Even though I was a university student, I found it hard to keep up with my current high school classes. I was always good with words, but terrible with numbers.
Classes themselves were the same as any other school: lessons, lunch, more lessons, and then heading home. Or at least, that's how it's supposed to be. But teenagers, with their hormones in full swing, often go somewhere else after school—karaoke, gaming centers, and all the other spots the average teen would visit.
While I kept drifting into these cultural comparisons along the way, I spotted my school in the distance. Guess it was time to resume my average student routine.
…
The bell rang, signaling lunch. Groups of students quickly gathered, while others left the classroom for the cafeteria.
As for me, during lunch I usually stayed in the classroom if I'd brought food, or else I headed to the cafeteria and ate in different spots around the school.
Today, since I hadn't brought anything, the second option it was.
I left my classroom and headed to the cafeteria. After a short wait in line, I bought two yakisoba bread rolls—what can I say, they're delicious.
With food in hand, the only thing left was a drink, so I went over to the vending machines for a Max Coffee.
With everything I needed in hand, a smile crept onto my face.
"Where should I eat today?"
With no place in mind, I wandered aimlessly, hoping my legs would carry me somewhere good.
A little hungry, I started eating one of the yakisoba rolls while sipping my Max Coffee.
After a long walk, I ended up near the rooftop stairs as today's lunch spot.
You might think it's a bad place to eat.
But it isn't. The door to the rooftop is locked, so there's no point in coming here—it means no one else shows up.
Which makes it a good spot to eat in peace without running into others. Not that I mind people, but I like enjoying my food quietly.
So, I should have had a peaceful lunch. But when I heard footsteps coming my way, I knew I wouldn't be alone here.
A few seconds later, a girl with brown hair and jade-green eyes appeared before me. Like every other girl in this school, she wore the white long-sleeved blouse and beige skirt.
Those are the designated school colors, so logically the boys wear a white shirt and beige pants.
When she noticed me, the student quickly looked away and sat on the same step as me, but a little farther off.
I couldn't really complain—it's not like I owned this place. Still, with all these steps, she could've chosen another spot…
I brushed off the thought and kept eating.
Even so, I could feel her eyes on me now and then.
"Something wrong?"
I'm not exactly the type to stand out, so it's unusual for anyone to stare at me like that. Normally, people give me a quick glance and move on.
The girl seemed surprised by my words. She looked like she wanted to say something, struggling to find the right words.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable… I just didn't expect us to be at the same school…" she said, averting her eyes.
Does she know me?
The only girl who's known me for years moved out of this city—luckily for me—and hopefully she never comes back.
Back to the point—who is she?
Guess I'll just play along.
"Life's full of coincidences," I replied, as if it were nothing special.
"I suppose so…"
Normally, when you talk to someone, you're supposed to look them in the eyes—never hesitate, never show vulnerability. But she does the exact opposite.
Everyone has their own communication problems.
I noticed she wanted to say something more to keep the conversation going, but no words came out.
I'm not a psychiatrist to deal with confidence or communication issues. I'm just another student you could find anywhere—
So I let it go and focused on my own business.
After finishing my meal, I took the last sips of my drink before heading back to class.
But before standing up, I caught a glimpse of her—she also had a can of Max Caffe in her hand.
Good to know there are people with decent taste.
"After trying it twice, I actually started to like it…" she said when she noticed my curious glance.
"Only a select few can say that once they've tasted the true flavor of Max Caffe," I replied with a hint of determination in my tone.
A sweet coffee that gets you hooked, thanks to its caffeine and absurd sugar content. Who cares about diabetes?
"That's the same thing you said on the rooftop that day." This time, her voice carried more confidence.
Mmm… Did I say that again?
Rooftop… Max Caffe… I dug through my recent memories.
After some heavy mental effort, I vaguely recalled a girl—not for her presence, but because I gave her two of my Max Caffe cans.
So that's it. She's the girl from the hospital.
Can't blame me for forgetting her. She's not exactly someone who stands out, and I'm not the type to remember people I've only met once.
"You've got a good memory."
A slight compliment on my part. Some people will remember you even after exchanging just a few words years ago. Impressive, to be honest.
"Not really… It's just that I don't talk much with others…" she admitted, a little embarrassed.
She really did seem like someone who struggled with communication. Watching her small, involuntary movements and expressions, I could guess she had low self-esteem.
If you want to say something, just say it. I've never seen the point of those communication struggles people have. And as for self-esteem? To me, it doesn't matter. Why should I care what others think of me? Actions speak louder than opinions.
Which makes the girl in front of me… odd.
"You just start a conversation with someone. I don't think it has to be more complicated than that."
If someone talks to me out of nowhere, I'll respond. I don't see any reason not to.
And really—what's wrong with answering someone?
Awkwardness? Why?
A few words exchanged never hurt anyone.
Still, those are just my thoughts. Everyone's entitled to their own view. But I don't see how it's so difficult that it becomes a real problem.
She didn't respond, just looked away.
As if to say she already knew that—but still couldn't do it.
Hopeless. Interacting with this type of person is always a pain…
Glancing at my watch, I noticed lunch was nearly over, so I stood up, ready to head back to class.
"See you."
I raised a hand while walking down the stairs.
"Bye…"
I didn't see her face, but her voice had returned to the way it was at the start—full of doubt and fear.
The only person who can help you with your problems is yourself. Relying on someone else only builds emotional dependence.
Source: an idiot I met years ago who's now far away.
…
Unlike yesterday, I brought my own lunch today. The only thing missing was my sugar-filled drink.
I had planned to grab one on the way to school at a convenience store, but while daydreaming and avoiding the cracks on the sidewalk, I ended up forgetting.
Oh well. I'll buy one after I'm done eating.
Drink aside, I ate my lunch without rushing, enjoying the quality and softness of the ingredients.
Compliments to the chef—it was delicious. Of course, I was the one who made it, so those words are nothing more than empty praise to myself.
Learning how to cook will help a lot when I have to live on my own. It's good to have the basics down early—I don't want to be an adult who can barely manage instant ramen.
I put my empty lunchbox into my bag, then got up from my desk and walked over to a vending machine.
As I got closer, I noticed a familiar figure—it was the same girl from yesterday, buying a couple of drinks.
This time, I remembered her right away. If I try hard enough, I can do this.
"Hello…" She noticed me when she turned around, holding two cans.
I nodded at her words, then stepped past her, slipped in a couple of coins, and pressed the button for Max Caffe.
I cracked open the can and took a sip, savoring the sugar and caffeine my body craved.
I'll never get tired of this. I swear I'm not addicted!
When I turned around, I saw her still standing there, almost like she was waiting for me.
"Something wrong?"
"It's nothing…"
Strange, no matter how you look at it.
Not wanting to overthink it, I started walking back toward my classroom—but stopped after a few steps.
"You coming?"
"Of course!"
Sometimes her mood is bright and cheerful, and other times she looks worn out and sad.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. There were moments when she seemed like she wanted to say something, but held back at the last second.
"See you."
We'd reached my classroom. Since we're in different sections, it wouldn't make sense for her to come in with me.
"Sorry… tomorrow… can we have lunch together…?"
"Huh?"
I turned around when I heard her. At first she tried to sound confident, but quickly slipped back into her usual self.
"It's nothing… just forget it…"
She spun around and headed toward her classroom.
I watched her walk away, curious.
She really is strange… though maybe tomorrow I'll be too lazy to cook.