Tick Tock Tick Tock…

The clicking cries of the wall-clock taunted the students of room 308, the small hand of time pointed at two as the big hand sat at seven. The room sweltered with its broken AC system and left the thirty students inside simmered in their own sweat and grease.

Yet despite their uncomfortable environment, the students held on, enduring the last few minutes in anticipation of the reward that awaited them—freedom.

It was 2:35 pm. Five more minutes and they’ll be freed from the prison known as sixth-period history class. Five more minutes and they'd feel the soothing brush of wind outside. They can go and meet with their friends, at last, eat out and have fun at the mall, or go home and indulge in the coziness of their couches or the comforts of their beds.

“Amendment V, No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia…” Mr. Leroy dictated in a monotonic, nasally voice, the one thing the class found more unbearable than the heat.

“Ugh…” James groaned, begging him for mercy. “When will it end?” His friend, Dave whispered to him, glancing at the clock in search of salvation.

“Shh… Pay attention.” Mr. Leroy warned them as he tapped his pen on a nearby desk, quelling their protests. “You will be tested on this. Now, write it down.” He ordered with a face devoid of emotion, drained of all life and passion.

The class shared bored expressions, fiddling with their smartphones or doodling at the back of their notebooks. Many whispered across neighboring desks. Others mocked the zombie-like teacher who remained oblivious despite their many attempts miming a gunshot to their heads. “Come on…” Trent willed the clock’s hand to move, yet nothing happened.

At 2:38 pm, many of the students had packed their belongings, clinging to their bags with a tight grip. They glared at the clock like a hawk eyeing its prey, each ruminating their plans through their heads like inmates scheming a prison-break. Everyone wanted to be the first person out the door… Everyone but Matthew.

When Mr. Leroy arranged their seating order on the first day, he hated being placed at the far left corner of the room, the furthest from the doorway. He knew that when the final bell rings, signaling the end of class, the war begins as well. At that moment, the entire room becomes a battlefield, with everyone's eyes focused upon a single goal: to reach the door before anyone else, no mercy.

It was an unfair race that favored the front row and whoever else sat nearby. Matthew, the person furthest from the door, held an extreme disadvantage and was doomed the last one to leave much to his chagrin. However, strange as it might sound, lately he’d come to reassess the value of his seat as he relished the last two minutes in his class.

The view of everyone smiling... the zooming paper planes across the room... the whispers of his rambunctious peers fooling around, mimicking Mr. Leroy behind his back, made him reconsider it as a smile surfaced on his lips.

For the boy who had just moved here a few months ago… For someone like him who had no one to call a friend in the new town, he was forced to call home… To be a part of such a lively, warm atmosphere felt like a blessing to him. If it allows him to join in on the fun, to smile and laugh like everyone else, to feel as if he belonged for even a moment, he considered… It was well worth it.

Driiiiiiiing!

As the final bell rang and the wave of teenagers flooded the hallway, Matthew finished his homework, completing tasks for at least three classes, two of which were not even due until next week. Noticing the emptiness of the room, he packed his belongings, said his goodbye to Mr. Leroy, and exited the room at last.

The melded voices of the crowd drowned the hallway. Their words were near incomprehensible. Yet even within that sea of noise, Matthew was perfectly capable of deciphering their conversations.

“You wanna come over or not?” James asked his peers, stuffing an inappropriate magazine inside his locker.

“Hold on, let me ask mom first!” Dave reasoned, panicking in search for his phone.

“Wow, who needs permission these days? What are you, a little bitch?” Trent teased, striking at his friend’s arm with a jab. “Ow!” Dave groaned as he struck back, swinging his backpack in friendly retaliation. “Dude, fuck off!”

“Ugh, boys…” Brianna rolled her eyes from the unsightly display she had just witnessed, slamming her locker with an annoyed sigh.

“Ignore them!” Daniela fanned her hand, brushing them aside. “More importantly, are we going or not?” She asked, giddy with excitement.

“Fine! If it would shut you up… I guess I can ask Dad to drive us downtown… ”

“Oh my God! Really? Eeek! You're the best!”

The hallway held a lively atmosphere as Matthew watched with envious eyes. Their radiant smiles dazzled him and the close bond they shared rendered him green-eyed. They all seemed so busy, engrossed in their own perfect worlds.

Everyone had plans to eat together… to hang-out, and play with their friends… Everyone was having so much fun… Everyone but him…

Ding!

Matthew recognized the sound of his ringtone and felt the vibration inside his bag. Rummaging through notebooks and pens, he grabbed his phone and sighed as he noticed a message from his mother.

It was the usual text she sends him that always seemed more like a command than a reminder. “I’ll be home late, go buy dinner and don't forget to throw the trash before you go to bed.” Matthew read the text aloud and frowned as he turned his phone off, tossing it back inside his bag.

“Microwave pizza it is... ” He thought to himself. “Oh, yeah, might need to buy stuff for breakfast... ” He averted his gaze from his peers and made a grocery list in his head, distracting himself from the loneliness that slowly eats him from within.

He walked in a brisk pace, passing through the swarm of students and riding the flow of the crowd. It's been two months since he transferred schools and yet no one dared to greet him hello or bid him goodbye. Not a silent nod nor a booming high-five came his way… He was invisible.

He recalled his first day at school, a rainy day that was unusual in California especially just after summer. His first impression amongst his peers wasn't a complete disaster per se yet it wasn't perfect either.

He gave it his all when he introduced himself, talking to anyone who approached him at school. He smiled at their remarks and nodded whenever he felt left behind, often struggling just to keep the conversation afloat. Yet despite his efforts, his lack of common ground with his peers, his slow responses, and the natural poker face he was born with created the illusion that he was standoffish and unsociable amongst them.

A month had passed when he discovered how they truly see him but by then everyone had their cliques constructed, their members listed, and the perimeters of their social circles defined. It was too late for him to do something. He was an outcast.

He wasn't always misunderstood, however. It wasn't always like that. In fact, making friends was an easy task for him not so long ago. Back when he had a place to belong to, back when it was all he talked about, back when he still felt whole…

“Gha!” A boy's grunt drew Matthew’s attention and forced him to notice the large familiar fence that surrounded the area before him. He remembered the large green rectangle, bisected by the white net that always seemed unforgiving to him. 

The sound of the ball flying a hundred miles per hour, crashing and brushing against the woven strings of the graphite rackets made his heart flutter as he replaced the image of the boy with his own, standing, smiling inside the court.

The fence shook as his fingers latched upon it. His eyes seethed with envy… only to be doused by the crowd of students that brushed against him, staggering his stance. The force knocked his bag off his shoulder and woke him from his daze.

Matthew sighed as he crouched and fetched the backpack from the ground. He brushed the dust away with his fingers and, for a moment, he paused, hesitating to wear it on his right shoulder. 

He felt relieved to regain his composure at the last minute, preventing his old habits from getting the best of him once again. He stood up and repositioned it, slinging it on his left as he walked away from the courts, halting just before the school-gates.

Hesitant, he allowed himself a final glimpse of the green courts that was once the whole world to him. His thoughts were muddled and his expression was pained as his left hand unconsciously reached for the right shoulder that once had a multitude of purpose such as holding his bag in place. 

Satisfied by the few, silent seconds he spared himself, he set his eyes forward and left with heavy steps as an old question resurfaced in his mind.

“Why?”