TSCEIAB Ch. 25

 

The first time I saw Angelica was during lunch in the cafeteria on my first day at school.

I was eating a sandwich from my lunch box when three girls suddenly approached me and sat down in front of and next to me.

 

“……?”

 

It seemed they were popular since the eyes of those in the cafeteria were drawn in our direction.

Embarrassed, I put down the sandwich I was taking a bite of, and the girl sitting right across from me greeted me with a smile.

 

“Hello. Do you have a minute?”

 

She had dirty blonde hair hung down one shoulder. Her voice was as pretty as her face.

 

“…… yes.”

 

I timidly replied, pushing up my glasses with the back of my hand that kept slipping down. The girl smiled again and asked:

 

“I heard you were with Hugo this morning. What’s your relationship with him?”

 

Has word spread already that Hugo laced up my sneakers?

I looked a little embarrassed and tried to play it off.

 

“…… We’re not in any kind of relationship.”

 

“What? No way. You don’t know each other, but Hugo smiled at you?”

 

It was the girl sitting next to me retorted my statement.

The one with slick black hair and dark eyes, squinted as if she knew I was lying.

The way they glanced up and down at me made me feel sick. I felt like I was going to throw up the sandwich I had only eaten a few bites of.

 

“…… It’s true. I almost fell, and he caught me, that’s all.”

 

My appetite had completely disappeared, so I closed the lid of my lunch box. It was impossible for me to continue eating any longer.

 

“They say he knelt in front of you, too.”

 

“He…… didn’t kneel down, my shoelaces became undone, and he tied them for me. I was carrying a lot of baggage in my hand.”

 

In fact, all I had in my hand was a flimsy map of the school.

But I couldn’t say it outright, so I lumped it together as ‘baggage’, to borrow Hugo’s expression.

The girl sitting next to me said to the dirty-blonde girl.

 

“See, Angelica? There’s no way Hugo knows a kid like this. She’s Asian!”

 

Oh my. Are you being racist?

I remember my dad told me that there were a lot of Asians in this school, so I wouldn’t be racially discriminated against.

 

‘Dad, I guess people are the same everywhere.’

I muttered to myself, swallowing a sigh that was about to burst out.

Angelica, as was her name, leaned back in her chair then leaned towards me and spoke in a shrill voice.

 

“Are you sure you don’t know Hugo?”

 

“…… Yes.”

 

“You’re saying that he just ‘happened’ to catch you, tied your shoelaces, and smiled at you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

I nodded meekly. The dark-haired girl sitting next to Angelica said to me in a threatening tone.

 

“It would be better for Hugo and you to remain strangers from now on.”

 

“…… Huh?”

 

“Angelica called dibs on him first. That’s why we’re telling you to stay out of her way”

 

And besides, you’re Asian.

 

There was a strange nuance hidden in the additional remark. I realized belatedly that what they didn’t like was not “Asians,” but “Asian girls my age.”

That means, what they hated was ‘Sophia Kang’, who would have been my age.

The girl who was loved by many for being the first S-class guide, and who almost killed the pair candidate, the S-class esper.

 

‘I guess they’re diehard fans of Hugo .’

I thought it would have been somewhat forgotten after more than 10 years, but I guess I was complacent.

 

‘Then again. This kind of bullying was always happening at my previous school.’

Perhaps in the decade or so that I had been off the internet, the image of ‘Sophia Kang’ had fallen even further.

In the past, my heart would have raced with fear, and I would have felt depressed.

My mood suddenly sank seeing the true nature of my accusers in front of my eyes.

It was more like anger or resentment than depression.

I remembered my counselor’s words –  that the only person who could blame me was Hugo, who was involved in the incident, and that those who didn’t know me didn’t have the right to criticize me.

 

‘Yes. The only person who can blame me is Hugo. How long are these kids, these people going to keep pushing me down?’

I mumbled, my eyes fixed on the corner of my lunch box.

 

“…… I will not speak to Hugo.”

 

“Yeah. Good thinking……..”

 

“But I don’t know how to respond if Hugo talks to me first.”

 

“…… What?”

 

Lately, my mood has been swinging. My counselor said it was due to hormonal changes.

I’ve only heard of puberty, and it seems that it has come to me too.

I blamed the hormones on the sudden spike in my heart.

 

“If Hugo talks to me first, I’ll avoid him by saying you your names. Can you tell me your names?”

 

Ah, now I did it.

The girls’ expressions were distorted by my words. Then they scowled at me as if they were going to tear me apart.

What I felt at the sight of those cruel glares was neither regret nor fear.

It was the thrill of striking back at those who had criticized me while hiding behind anonymity.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After that incident, Angelica’s group began to harass me bit by bit.

At first, they were bullying me by telling me that bad things would happen if I talked to him and got close to him, and then they started hovering around me and gossiping about me loudly.

But the next day, when I started bringing my earphones and putting them in my ears, the bullying became a little more serious.

As if glancing and giving me hints were nothing more than a passing remark, they continued the bullying by pouring coffee into my locker and stealing my handouts.

Locking it didn’t work.

 

A week passed like that.

Having been bullied at my previous school, I was used to this situation.

It was a bit annoying. But as long as I handled it well, it didn’t cause me much damage.

For example…… something like this:

 

“What the? John, you said you threw away her handouts yesterday!”

 

“XX, did she know about it and made copies in advance?”

 

As I pulled the class materials out of my bag and placed them on my desk, I heard whispers coming from somewhere in the room.

I pretended not to hear them and prepared for class.

A few times before the teacher came in, a stack of papers flew behind me, but I just pretended not to notice.

 

‘The more you react, the more they tend to enjoy bullying as a sport.’

In my previous school, I had been unresponsive, and the bullying decreased in a few days.

There was a constant stream of derogatory remarks and hate speech, but it was bearable when I listened to the song with my earphones on.

 

“This is the end of today’s lesson. Well done everyone.”

 

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t realize the time passing.

The class I took was English literature, where you read “Romeo and Juliet” and chose one of the supporting characters or extras from it, and interpret the events from that point of view.

I had already interpreted Romeo and Juliet in my previous school, and I read it dozens of times because I liked it.

Maybe that’s why I felt that today’s class was a bit boring.

 

“Haley, have you studied ‘Romeo and Juliet’ in your previous school?”

 

I was packing up my things after it was announced that the class was over, the teacher approached me and asked me a question.

I guess it was obvious that I was thinking about something else throughout the class.

I gave an apologetic look as I examined her mood.

 

“Yes, but only from the main characters’ perspective. I haven’t tried interpreting it from a supporting character’s view.”

 

“I see. What other works have you studied?”

 

In the questions that followed, I talked about each of the literary works I had learned. The teacher’s expression was not good.

 

“Did you take advanced classes at your school?”

 

“Yes, only English literature.”

 

“I see. I’m sorry, but it seems there isn’t much for you to gain from this class. Perhaps we should reconsider your timetable, what do you think?”

 

“No, no. I like this class. I’ll pay more attention in the future.”

 

I waved my hands at the words of my English literature teacher. Aside from English literature, the only class I could take during this time was physical education.

 

‘I don’t like using my body while around with the kids…….

 

Fortunately, my English literature teacher nodded in agreement.

 

“Really? Then, if you that’s what you want…….”

 

After the conversation with the teacher, I put my bag on my shoulder. Today, I had a vague schedule for afternoon classes, so I only had time for lunch now.

I hurried out of the classroom. I had earphones in my ears as usual.

Instead of the pop I usually listen to, I played rock music, and it was so loud that my head was ringing.

I was nearly running matching the beat of the drums.

As I walked through a hallway lined with lockers, someone suddenly stuck out a foot from the side.

 

“……!”

 

I fell down the hallway with a loud crash.