A Loser Before and a Loser Now

I still vividly remember my first day of middle school. I dislike the word sheltered. After all, I always tried to keep myself informed. I read and watched all sorts of things, and I studied as much as I could manage, too. I lacked in the friends department, but who didn’t? There was far too much thrown our way, and I could only focus on what I could handle. Studying and reading, I could handle. People? Not really.

I didn’t realize everything about me would be judged on my first day in middle school. My choice of hairstyle, the colors that I chose to wear, even the lunch that I chose to eat were now suddenly under scrutiny of my peers.

I really do resent the word sheltered. My parents did a good job protecting me from the nastiness of the humans around me. And the school before that was healthy enough for me to be free from judgement. So why was middle school suddenly so difficult?

The convenient thing was to just blame my parents. But what was I really expecting? Should they be harsh to build character? Or should they be nice and show me kindness exists in this world? Should my younger school years be cruel and ugly to prepare me for this? Or should they both work together to keep my childlike energy strong for as long as possible? I decided to not think too much about it, and just resent my parents instead. And then I took on a form that would make it easier for me to fit in.

I decided I wasn’t going to be the bubbly kind, lifting attention from the people around me. I didn’t need to be cute, either. Even if I wanted to, I figured those things would just come naturally if they were meant for me. Instead, I kept focusing on my studies, and entertained myself with books and videos.

But I wasn’t intentionally isolating myself either. I was just far enough to avoid attention, but close enough if I ever wanted it. And sometimes, it worked.

“Why are you always reading?” A curious boy with a mild voice found me on a break one time.

“I like it.”

“What is that book about?” He seemed curious, but pretended to be distant. Maybe school made us act like this.

“It’s about a witch who wants to travel around the world, and she studies really hard and travels to a lot of places.”

“What about the people she meets?”

I had never really thought about her encounters. “I guess she’s distant and struggles sometimes. She’s very talented, after all...”

“Sounds like you.”

The half-compliment startled me somewhat, but the boy was quickly dragged away by his friends, who happened to be three girls.

“Don’t hang out with her.” One of the girls was quick to judge me.

“Yeah, she’s going to make you look bad.” I overheard the other girls talk as they walked away.

That was it. That was a lot more like I expected my average interactions to go. Yet the boy insisted, and visited me often. He kept asking about my stories, and about me.

“Mimi, I love your stories. Maybe you can share them with others, too?”

“It’s fine, Makoto, even sharing them just with you is fine. I didn’t even have to share before anyway.”

But his visits became more and more sparse as we grew up. Out of all the people in that middle school, he was the only one I could really trust. But over time, his visits became infrequent. Again, I just focused on my studying, and on my stories.

Much to my disappointment, the same people from my middle school showed up in high school. And once again, the dynamics were completely different. But, once again, I focused on my books.

“Mimi, I’m glad you’re here, too.”

“Is that you, Makoto?” He had grown into quite an attractive boy, and what used to be innocent conversations about books became a lot more complicated. But time with him was limited, and at that point he seemed like a distant childhood friend as our worlds grew further and further apart. But fate would bring us together in an explosive way.

It was a stormy day. The loud thunder outside made us shelter in the chemistry lab, where I was together with Makoto, his friends, and the rest of the class. Everyone was talking loudly, ignoring the teacher, who was likely woefully underpaid and undertrained for the situation, not to mention unmotivated. She decided to show us some science experiments to pass the time, mostly for her own amusement.

It was interesting to see at first: commonplace reactions of small explosions and colorful flames. But that wasn’t enough to draw the class's attention. The class was in complete and utter chaos, with multiple loud conversations, and with the thunder overpowering our voices and the wind rattling the windows. The students weren’t much more orderly either. The noise made it hard to concentrate, making me want to cover my ears with my hands. Chaos unfolded in every direction. In fact, Makoto and his friends playing with water bottles had managed to spill water on the floor.

It turned out I was the unlucky one targeted by the teacher to put her little science experiments away.

“Mimi, can you put the jar of potassium away?” I guess I should’ve been proud. The teacher acknowledged me as one of the more knowledgeable and trustworthy ones. My bookworm persona had finally done something arguably good.

“Sure.” I answered as I held the container tightly and made my way to the safety of the storage closet.

On my way there, I felt Makoto’s hand on my waist. “Mimi, no! Don’t step on—”

While he had stopped me from stepping on the puddle in time, the way he did it completely obliterated whatever I was thinking at that moment. My mind glitched out for a full second; my legs struggled to keep me standing, and the jar slipped off my hands. We both saw in horror how it descended into the puddle of water my peers had created.

Makoto quickly tackled me, hugged me, and held my head as we fell, and as soon as the jar shattered into the puddle of water, we all met our explosive finale.