Chapter 2

“Heyyy Clo-clo!” 

I sigh, making myself smaller at my desk as Chrys, Laure, and Dahlia sashay into the classroom. I don’t know why they keep on picking on me. All I know is that from the very first day, they’ve been picking at me like a scab. 

“What a girlish name.” I hear one of them mutter as they move to my desk.

“How are you today?!” Dahlia exclaims, striking an exotic pose as Chrys nods in support. 

“Fine.” I just wish that Myo was here…she always scares the trio away. They only pick on me when Myo isn’t around. 

“Huh?” Laure realizes something, “Where’s Myo today? Did she finally return to the elementary school?” 

“I don’t know.” I murmur, scanning the room for her bright unicorn backpack and sparkly sneakers. 

“What was that?” Dahlia presses.

“I DON’T KNOW.” I repeat. Then I try to hide my face by looking down as Dahlia daintily presses a hand to her chest.

“Oooh aggressive. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” She doesn’t wait for a response as she moves to the front of the class with her friends. Probably got bored of me. They sit down together chattering excitedly about the next new trend involving toxic makeup and life-ruining surgeries. 

I pretend to melt into my seat and imagine closing my eyes and never waking up. I wish I could just sleep forever. The ceiling lights are as bright as the sun, so I stare up at them hoping to go blind. Maybe that could be a good excuse for not finishing my science work…

Myo’s seat beside mine is still cold and bare when homeroom finally ends. Her seat is still empty when I sit down into English class. 

For the first time, I sit alone during lunch. Usually, Myo is there to fill the air with cheerful conversation or listen to me lament my overdue assignments. The empty spot beside me aches with loneliness.

“Clove!” Myo runs over to me, gripping something tightly in her left hand. She lifts it up to show me, slowly uncurling her fingers to reveal a small blue bloom, petals crinkled and bruised from their journey within her hand. “Look!” She waves it in my face.

I swipe her hand away and lower it to inspect the blossom within. 

“…what is it?” I ask, poking the flower. 

“It’s me!” She exclaims, beaming. She seems uncomfortable in my hold, itching to run or dance in excitement. I let go of her wrist and she springs free, leaping around the barren school yard and drawing contemptuous looks from our classmates. The flower falls to the dirt, forgotten. Its purpose served, I leave it to the earth. 

I wake from my daydream when somebody taps me on the shoulder. Dahlia stands over me, chewing a piece of gum with her hands lazily stuffed in her hoodie pocket.

“Hey.” She blows a bubble, making me wait for her explanation. “Last period.” Considering her job done, she turns and calmly drifts away, seemingly unafraid of being caught talking to me. I heave myself up and sling my bag over my shoulder. Then, I trudge over to my daily dose of public humiliation. This is gonna be fun.