"Y'all should make research on those topics. Enjoy the rest of your day," Mrs. Montgomery declared with her usual dry-as-toast tone, snapping her laptop shut like she was done with the world. And us.
Cue the collective exhale of twenty-six teens finally freed from the claws of AP Chemistry.
"Finally!" I groaned, gathering my books like they personally betrayed me and deserved to be thrown into a bonfire. "That class should be classified as a war crime."
Kaisha laughed beside me, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, drama queen. Lunch awaits."
Just as we exited the classroom, she pulled a full stop. "I need to pee. Meet you at the cafeteria?"
I gave her a thumbs-up and watched her scurry toward the restroom like her bladder had just filed a lawsuit against her. I turned toward the lockers, heading to mine. Just a quick stop, I told myself. Drop off the chemistry book that was heavier than my will to live, grab my English notebook, and bounce.
Everything was going according to plan—until it wasn't.
I had just tucked my books into the locker and was turning around when—BAM!
The metal door of the locker beside mine swung open like it was on a mission from hell and slammed full-force into my face.
I dropped like a sack of potatoes. Graceful? Never heard of her.
And then—nothing.
Like…nothing.
Darkness. Silence. Stillness. Peaceful, honestly, if it weren't so terrifying.
Hold on—wait a second.
Was I… dead?
Panic swirled through my soul like someone just dumped red food coloring into clear water.
No. No no no no no! I can't die now! Not today, Satan!
I have so many things left to do! So many confessions to make!
I haven't told my mom I stole twenty bucks from the "swear jar."
I haven't told my dad I accidentally used his new designer shirt to wipe… well, something that definitely wasn't my hands.
I haven't told Kaisha I "borrowed" her pink glitter nail polish last month and spilled half of it into my carpet.
I haven't graduated high school.
I haven't been to Disney Island—does that even exist?
I haven't gone to a BTS concert. I haven't cried in front of Jimin or passed out during a fansign event.
My teenage soul wasn't ready for eternal rest, dammit!
This is it. I'm gone. Bye Mom. Bye Dad. Bye world. Tell my story—
THWACK!
A slap, so aggressive and so personal, landed on my cheek that it nearly sent me into the afterlife I was already imagining.
My eyes shot open like someone hit the defibrillator. I jerked upright, gasping like I'd just emerged from the ocean.
I blinked into the fluorescent light and saw a familiar, worried face hovering over me.
"Ishaaa?!" I rasped like I had been resurrected. "What the hell?!"
"Oh my god, you're alive!" she gasped and threw her arms around me in the most dramatic hug ever.
I looked around. People had gathered in a semi-circle, rubbernecking, but now that I was clearly not dead, they were slowly dispersing. Teenagers. So loyal.
"I thought you died!" Isha continued, holding my shoulders. "I panicked and slapped you to check."
I blinked at her. Hard. "You what?"
"Well, you weren't waking up! I figured if you were actually dead, a slap wouldn't hurt you."
I rubbed my cheek. "There are about twelve other ways to check if someone's breathing. You skipped all of them and went straight to abuse?!"
She rolled her eyes, classic Isha style. "Do you want me to slap you again so you can faint again and prove a point?"
"No! I'm good. Very conscious, thanks."
She grabbed my hand and yanked me up. "Come on, drama queen. Let's get food. I didn't skip breakfast just to faint beside your lifeless body."
As we walked toward the cafeteria, still arm-in-arm like survivors of a battlefield, we bumped into the last two people I wanted to see: Liam and Cameron.
Just fantastic.
"Hey Navia," Liam said way too cheerfully. "Heard you fainted in the hallway—"
He didn't even finish his sentence before bursting into obnoxious, hyena-level laughter.
Cameron stood beside him, cool and silent, sipping from a bottle of water like the hydrated, judgmental prince he was.
"What's so funny?" I asked, already regretting the question.
Liam choked through his laughter, tears forming in his eyes. "It's your face… It looks like you got slapped by a crazy bear."
Isha crossed her arms and stepped forward like she was about to throw hands. "You want that crazy bear to slap you next?"
Liam shut up so fast I thought he got hit with an off-switch. "We'll just—go," he muttered, backing away.
Cameron, however, didn't move. He turned to me, ignoring Liam's retreat. "Meet me at my place after school. We'll finish the project early so you can leave before it gets dark."
I blinked. Was that… considerate?
"Uhh, sure. That's fine."
He nodded once and walked off like he just gave a royal decree.
Isha practically pounced on me during lunch. "What's his house like? Did you go in his room? What does it smell like? Did you see his closet? Was it color-coordinated? Is he a robot? Is he rich rich or, like, fake rich?"
I avoided her eyes and took a very long sip of my juice. "It was…fine."
I did not tell her about falling into the flower garden like a gremlin or borrowing Cameron's shirt after my own got soil-slapped.
Some secrets need time before they're unleashed into the world.
3:32 p.m. - Post-Apocalyptic School Escape
As much as I liked school—and by liked I mean tolerated it on days when there was pizza in the cafeteria—I was thrilled to leave. I texted Kaisha to go ahead without me since I was heading to Cameron's.
I stood about fifteen meters from the school gate, mentally rehearsing casual things to say when I got in the car.
Then I spotted Cameron's sleek black car turning the corner.
Showtime.
I stepped forward dramatically—like a starlet entering a spotlight. I even flipped my hair a little. Just in case he needed reminding that I was a whole snack.
He slowed down as he approached. My heart fluttered.
Yes, this was my main character moment.
Except… he didn't stop.
He drove right past me. Like I didn't exist. Like I was air.
And not even luxury air. Just basic, oxygen-level invisible.
I stood frozen, jaw dangling like a broken seesaw.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL—" I started, then realized I was still in public and swallowed the rest.
But then I snapped.
"That son of a pig! That bastard! Arrogant jerk!!" I yelled into the void.
A teacher nearby gave me a look, but I didn't care.
I stomped my foot and mimicked kicking the air like I was in a WWE match. I fake-punched an imaginary version of him. I even growled.
Then karma struck. I slipped.
And landed flat on my butt.
"AGHHH! MY BUTT!" I cried out dramatically, flailing like a flipped turtle.
People were watching. Again.
My entire life was a public performance, and today's show was called Rejected, Slapped, and Humiliated: A Tragic Comedy in Three Acts.