Perfect

“Are you going… back, Ethan?”

“Yes… Yes I am.”

“Can we…”

“… Of course of course, I would be honored.”

The world was silent and serene; peaceful in his eyes, heterosexuals bashing homosexuals, jocks bullying nerds, politicians throwing papers all over the senate, it is all normal for him. In his persona, nothing seems odd. Everything is normal and natural in place but this normal view is bordered by things beyond the common sense as to be called good and evil.
Ethan and Enid walked down the hall. The two bookworms shared insights on books; things they consider one of the few things that listen to what they were saying. Those thick and hardbound novels embrace their self-esteem and protect them from outside glares of critics. As they walk, they did not much occupy space. All they gestured were compressed bodies, feet closer together and books they hold on each hand. They chatted. Introducing oneself to each other yet not a single direct eyesight can be observed. Both were looking downwards, as if talking to the floor itself. Either way, they understood each other. Enid knows how it feels to be Ethan; how it feels to be alone, to be criticized, to be judged.

“So… you like cream?”

“Yes. I do like them; sweet, fluffy, and light, just like the clouds at Scotland!”

“That’s---“

“Fundamental.” They smiled. For once, they looked at each other, smiling for the first time.

The bell rung as they chuckled. The atmosphere shifted rapidly, altering each moment Enid and Ethan reminisced towards a good friendship behind them.

Enid and Ethan came in the classroom with no one inside yet, except for someone sitting on the teachers table.

“I like her palazzos.” Ethan whispered.

“She’s Ms. Fauntine, our literature teacher. Most of the students here don’t like her much. They say she is not jolly enough to be a teacher.” Enid replied.

“Nice blazer Ethan. I gotta say, Nice sense.” Ms Fauntine said with a smile to which Ethan was shocked. Either way, he still smiled back to the teacher with astonishment yet joy.

“Their remarks regarding this teacher are frivolous Enid. She’s cheerful! Who can say she is not.” Ethan whispered once more, staring at Ms. Fauntine.

“We’ll see about that Ethan… She may be cheerful… but her class is not.”
It left Ethan in thoughts. Yes, it is true. Most classes take no joy in academics. He knew Enid has something to show. He knew as a writer what words mean; from words that deliver bitterness as a bitter gourd does to bitterness as a coffee bean does.

“How was your stay in Walter High Ethan?” Ms. Fauntine said as she flips through the pages of her textbook.

“Nothing in particular Ms. Fauntine. Just another day at the road less traveled.”

“Have your classmates introduced themselves?”

“No. They have not but it doesn’t seem they need to. I can probably know them through the days.”

“That was logical but I see you always look down. Do you have something to hide?”

“No. No. Of course not.”

“But why? Don’t you like being flamboyant?”

“I am afraid that was the number one word on my dictionary but the description is not the same as what Merriam-Webster Dictionary tells.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is more like of a Thesaurus focusing on Antonyms.”

As he finished his statement, the bell rung for the last time. The students rushed inside the classrooms as if flocks of sheep were gathered by a shepherd inside a barn.

The emptiness became dense once more. The coldness still remain despite of the warmth those fake smiles bring. Bringing cheer is different from spreading fraud gestures. This wasn’t evident but it is the truth, the ways of life.

“I haven’t seen you Enid. Where were you?”a male student in a varsity jacket with initials WH embroidered asked.

“I was with Ethan. I came across him so… I asked him to tag along.”

Ethan stared at the jock. He looked out-dated. The jock was not a typical one with plain hair-gels to let their hair shine in artificial luster. This one is different. His hair smells like grapes; enticing grape wine to be exact. Ethan thought he is one. He is one of his kind; the ones bullied for being themselves.

“Nice hair. Nice work on dividing your bangs.” Ethan complimented.

“Thank… you…” The jock replies with indefinite emotion. He appeared flattered yet shocked as well.

The moment shattered in a word of a teacher. Ms. Fauntine announced their next lecture, poetry.
Ethan’s adrenaline rushed once again. It was odd and unusual. It was hard for him to have these rows of opportunity; elimination earlier and a poetry class now? He became excited more than ever. Little by little his excitement trotted as it increased it’s joy.

Ethan’s mind fluttered. It painted various pictures that mirror his life, a life of blue and any other darkness stirred with orange in the Munsell Color System where shades of yellow and other warm hues reign over the soul of art.

“You are all free to scatter and share insights with your friends. I need each one of you to pass a 4-stanza poem later before dismissal.”

Ethan thought of someone he met earlier; a person whom he appreciated the effort of being with him; someone he thought that somehow… somewhat… could be his best friend.

Enid glances at Ethan. He was looking down straight at his work; concentrating, consecrating his work with all respect. She admired him. Enid stared and stared as she wrote a phrase “A Rose’s Embrace”. As she scribbled a fine cursive font, she turned to Ethan again but this time, someone was with him; someone on the left side of Ethan’s formality.

“Come with us Lello! Let me know you.” A student with braided endpoints of her bangs asked, glasses with thick rims and two headphones covering her ears.

“Isn’t that prohibited?” Ethan asked

“No… it isn’t. It is just a cute hearing aid. Fashionable isn’t it?” The girl replied.

“Innovative would be the right term.”

“Well say hello to the inventor!”

“You?”

“No not me. It is her.” The girl said as she winks to her left side.

Ethan looked behind the girl and got a glimpse of someone staring back at him. He turned back from looking. He looked down once again and contemplated. “By the way, I am Tristanny. Feel free to follow me to Enid.”

Tristanny walked away, leaving Ethan in thoughts. Her feet brought her to Enid who appears stammered at the moment.

“Don’t you think he acts a bit weird?!” Tristanny asked

“No. Why?”

“Nothing. I just feel like he’s very uneasy.”

“He is… He… is one of us… We’re… simply on the same boat.”

Tristanny was silent. She was never that way. She may be stoned by words but it doesn’t affect her much. No one ever feels the same as her when other bevy would gossip about her attitude, her attitude of pursuing to be in the school choir. Her dream shatters whenever she auditions with a different song even though the moderator wants her to sing something high; something her vocals haven’t reached… yet. She would always sing something pop, lively or dance for example, but the moderator demands a traditional operatic or classical song choice like How Will I Know or preferably I Have Nothing. She wishes to learn them but grew tired of practicing for always ending up in shattered glass.

“Mind… if I join?” Ethan approached.

“Not really Ethan. In fact, that can be more innovative than my hearing aid.” Tristanny remarked to which Ethan smiled; the first time he smiled with someone with his head high.

His mind spread its wings as he sat. His thoughts were as if candy sprinkles topped over a tasty velvet cupcake. His smiles overwhelmed even the thickest caramel brownie he ever ate. Joy, happiness and warmth is all he could nurture in that moment; the moment with his first friends in Walter High.

Ms. Fauntine looks from afar. She smiled. She thought those children were desperate to have a friend. She thought, those pupils she had were considered outcast since the day she knew them; a bookworm, a desperate singer, an aspiring explorer, a lonely lass and a geek jock. Those people are not only students, those were her hearts. She is one of them. Ms. Fauntine is an outcast as well in a different aisle. Her dreams spread their wings yet still bandaged every now and then from being interceded all of a sudden.

Tristanny, Enid and Ethan sat in places as three more students came near; a girl with a long cerulean scarf, the jock from earlier, and a male student with a quite thick eyebrow clothed in an eggshell colored v-neck sweatshirt.

They sat there, talking with much of pomegranate’s velvet seed gathering; different paths yet same scenarios. The students shared insights in different manners, various words yet similar meanings.

As they chatted, Ethan smiled. He looked at each other’s glorious emotions as the thing called outcasts altered to be called friends. His poem reflected theirs as well; one poem yet various stanzas. Each line says something about him. How hard for him to move in bland pastures or to convey with irregular voice.

“I hope some of you were finished by now.” Ms. Fauntine interrupts and murmurs “Some of you who are talented enough.”

“Ethan, take the spotlight and show your masterpiece.” She says in a very loud tone, waking up some of her sleeping students

Ethan froze. Ethan sat there with hands frozen in space. He doesn’t know how to respond. If he can be outspoken, it is not the frontlines he can take. He was uneasy even more when the students stared at him simontaneusly. His feminine voice crackled and his hand cringed in despair. “What if I got it wrong? What if they laughed? What if I stammer? What if I had a mistake?”, voices lingered his mind and bothered him once more.

“You can do it. We believe in you.” Tristanny said as she pats Ethan’s back.

Ethan doubted. He still hasn’t constructed a strong foundation for his self-confidence. He looked at the people around him, looking back at him in belief and stood, forcing to defrost his freezing feet. He walked; not lifting his feet much from the floor yet seems to push him towards the centerfold.

As he got to stand in front of the class, he wanted to sigh yet nothing comes out. His heart beats out of his chest as his hands tries to relieve its worry from crumpling the end of his suit.

Finally he sighed.

“U… Umm… My… Poem is entitled, A Daisy on My Arm.” Ethan started with a tiny, crackled voice.

“Lily’s not me nor rose’s not mine; Life’s too crooked, nor does it rhyme.” He continues, looking straight at his paper; not even showing a glimpse of his face, freezing his feet in place and hands cringing, rubbing his palms in condensed sweat.

Either way, he managed to pull off quite a performance. His show was like a spirit, it lacks a body but it is pure in soul. His words fluttered even brighter than a Pegasus. On the other hand, the 7 students at the back stared in admiration as to which Ethan contemplated. He smiled. He told himself, “I told you Ethan, just a little sugar.”

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.”

The moment was disturbed by someone in front makes a scene. Ethan’s frost returned. His smile vanished rapidly.

“Zak!” Ms. Fauntine interrupts as her anger emerged. “That’s inappropriate!”

Ethan’s spotlight dimmed as the curtains for him closed its call. He thought he could defy gravity in his conditions but it isn’t what he thought. Instead, gravity pulled his lips to turn to the ground. All matters around him mocked him so badly to he as well insisted that he was never and will never be the one on the centerfold to say his soul.

He took pity on himself. He was never wrong. Ethan thought of this scene. He never got a single thing wrong if it comes to these kinds of scenarios.
As he sat down, Ms. Fauntine told her goodbyes and left the classroom along with the lesson but not in Ethan’s heart. The moment still bothered him till the time ticked its rhythm.

Enid looked at Ethan in awe. Ethan’s velvet mousse soon crashed in dismay. He thought right and soon faulted himself yet Enid gave him a tap and said, “We’re on the same boat, Ethan.”