Chapter 18:

If We Never Met - Via

Road Trip with The Boys


The air was chilly despite the sun being out, signifying that the bulk of summer was over. With this knowledge came a gloomy premonition—school was about to start. In fact, it’s already started for some of us; many of my classes required prep work to be done in the summer. Due to this pre-university malaise, I found myself sitting on a concrete floor, leaning my back against a cold brick wall, clinging to these last few moments of total freedom.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Hints of an orange sky started appeared on the horizon as I watched my friends dribble an orange ball. They were playing a game of three on three with strangers we had met earlier. While they looked the same as us in shorts and T-shirts typical of playground basketball players, it was evident that they were high schoolers, and we were not. Perhaps it was my own bias.

Now why was I on the sidelines, you might ask? Since little has improved since I started training my cardio, I tapped out after a couple minutes of running around the court.

Swish.

“Nice job Prius!” I called out.

“Thanks!”

He hi-fived the others, with the usual stupid grin across his face. Although I didn’t keep track of the score, I knew we were in the lead. There was a victorious aura surrounding them.

Come to think of it... this was the same kind of atmosphere I felt when I encountered Prius two months ago. I was so detached from the game that I didn’t even notice him playing. Had he not approached me that day, I wonder what would’ve happened...

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Listening to the hypnotic beat of the ball against concrete, my vision faded to black, and I dreamed of another world.

o

“Man, that was a long ride,” complained Ken.

Beneath the airport’s hubbub, I could hear the rumbling of planes outside. The ones arriving weren’t so loud. The ones leaving were a little louder.

Five of us gathered outside of our flight’s exit in one of the airport lobbies. This made me worried about blocking the exit for leaving passengers—yet this was merely a fraction of the entire grad trip group. Since we travelled with such a large group of boys, those who sat at the back of the plan were still stuck in the congestion of the cramped airplane hallways.

“The trip’s finally over, huh...” Ken remarked. “It feels kind of lonely. This is the last trip we all have together.”

“Yeah.” “That’s so sappy!” “You’re making me sad.”

Positive response from the group.

As usual, Ken seemed popular with the guys. Thoughtful, outgoing, extroverted—it’s no wonder he’s on good terms with everybody. He even takes the time to play games with me every once in a while, knowing I wasn’t on great terms with everyone else. A genuinely nice person.

Ken was the one who invited me on this grad trip. It was likely out of pity. He knew that all I’ve done for the past three months was play competitive shooting games. Having nothing better to do, I agreed to come.

No, that was a lie.

I simply didn’t want to turn away his kindness. After all, it wasn’t something I received often... and since university was coming, I might not have a chance to receive it again.

Since Ken told me that he was the one who organized the trip, I didn’t think much about the social repercussions. No one would complain that I came, since I was invited by the host... was what I thought.

“Hey Ken,” I whispered. “I’m gonna use the washroom.”

“I’ll watch your bags,” he said quietly.

“Thanks.”

And off I went.

Walking through the airport alone, I felt at ease—the reason why, I know not.

Was it because I was lonely?

No. Walking past families and couples made me even lonelier; yet despite this loneliness, it felt much better than standing with the boys ten seconds ago. I quickly located the restroom, picked a vacant stall, and sat down. It was time for introspection on the toilet.

Where did I go wrong?

For the record, I didn’t enjoy much of the trip; it was as if I was forced to awkwardly attend a party where I knew no one, for seven days straight. While it was easy to make small talk and stick with Ken in the beginning, the animosity of the group became evident after the first few days.

There wasn’t much conversation to be made at the restaurants and clubs we attended. I often retired early and slept alone in a hotel suite with two queen-sized beds as the others hung out in another. Some of them took their pillows too. On the bright side, I was the only person who didn’t receive a noise complaint throughout our stay.

I always knew there was a divide between me and this group of people—but not to this extent. In our first year of high school, we even played and laughed together. These same faces that sneered and ostracised me now, used to smile and give me dopamine when I saw them. So much has changed beneath the scenes, for the past two years that I avoided them. None of it should be my fault.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel pathetic.

Like my graduation trip was meant to give me pleasant experiences.

Like I wasn’t supposed to have a hard time.

Like I shouldn’t have ruined the mood by having a hard time.

What was I even thinking when I agreed? Did I have a goal? I knew there was something I had in mind when I accepted Ken’s invite.

Was it to rebuild these relationships? No. I knew it was far too late. We were going into university already, and everyone would be split up.

Was it to find closure in this passive-aggressive conflict?

Ahh... dealing with people is a nightmare...

Footsteps echoed. I could hear a group of teenage boys shuffling and grumbling into the airport bathroom.

“Man, the one time he doesn’t flake, it’s on our trip?”

I bet the others talk about me like that too.

“Who does Via think he is?”

Oh, they are talking about me. I can barely recognize their voices.

“Why does this guy need to bring our mood down? I’m glad I didn’t get put in a room with him.”

I didn’t mean to ruin anything.

“Lucky. We had to sleep on your floor just to avoid talking to him.”

Sorry. I didn’t know.

“Well, I’m glad that you guys did that. If he came to our room, it would’ve been hard to talk like we usually do.”

I’m glad for them too.

“Why’d he bother showing his face? Does he think he’s on good terms with us?”

I know I’m not.

“He never took our side during arguments.”

I never took the other side either.

“He was probably badmouthing us too.”

I never badmouthed anyone.

“I bet he was the one who snitched during the Gordo incident.”

No I wasn’t... even if you guys deserved it.

“I wish he didn’t come.”

...

I wish I didn’t either.

Another person must have entered, since silence was prompted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Running water drowned out my thoughts, as they quietly did their business and washed their hands.

I was relieved.

Tears can be loud sometimes, you know.

Were friends always this brutal? Were friends always trash-talkers behind the scenes? Were these people ever my friends?

Maybe once upon a time.

“Ah...” I sighed with a hic.

It’s been so long that my definition of “friend” has really distorted this much. I remember now. The feeling of having friends. Close friends. Genuine friends.

...Who were they again?

Pri...Prius? Ra...Ravi? Co...co?

I couldn’t even remember their names clearly, much less their faces. The thoughts of them were blurred by the tears in my vision.

“Ugh...”

It was so frustrating. The roaring in my head drowned out my thoughts, my senses, and eventually my feelings too. My chest convulsed and my tears poured just for the sake of it, while my mind observed these physiological responses from a third party’s perspective.

I realized there was no longer any reason for me to cry. Everything was let out. Emotionally, my brain was satisfied. Yet nothing could erase the resentment I held in my heart.

“I hate myself...” I muttered under my breath.

I didn’t notice the footsteps of another person entering the washroom. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have cared anyways.

But had I known who he was, I would’ve cried a little quieter.

“Via?” Ken questioned. His voice echoed in the otherwise empty restroom. “Are... you okay? We’re waiting for you.”

“...”

Let them wait. Or let them go. I don’t care.

“No one else is here. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“...No.”

You’d think it was your fault.

“Are you sure? I could hear you earlier...”

“...”

I want to die.