Call it his Achilles’ heel, that fatal flaw was hardly any glitch…Seriously. She on the other hand, was the entire exposed heel; if you know what I mean. Medication was like a tumour to her. Constant costs, constant cramps, constant chaos. Her mind and her mum were at split ends; oh don’t get me started about her hair, because it’s a mess. Words can hardly describe what she does to the frills (or if she even bothers in the first place). Thus, with that alone, this was considered college life suicide.
The stigma really started to set in, and well, life just got a whole lot tougher. Self inflicted, you might say…Neh. She loved sleep, who doesn’t? It’s just that time was rarely on her side, so don’t mind the daily mad-hair-days.
Getting your own clique was really essential in school, it’s your safety net, your refuge, your life (in school), basically. It’s essentially that animal instinct, that herd mentality; stick close and it’s harder to break (either you or the other bloke). Well yeah, that’s what she did, but of course, not all cliques actually click.
That nagging pain of being the isolated one didn’t just get at her; Mr X did get some flak, moral flak. He didn’t have his own clique either, but surviving by being nomadic proved better than brooding around the same boring crowd (apart from the occasional longing to settle down of course). That was when he decided. He went over and sat on that bare bench, the only table in the entire canteen during “peak-hour recess”, with only one person.
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