4 Unexpected (Awkwardness)

School occurs early for today, so Roxanne and I are sitting in the corner. The pair of us are gawking at the drawings while we listen to the lecture of our teacher. We have never got a trace of his identity through the sketches that he makes. He even send us indications that bolster our claim that he is a student from our school.

But, alas, our efforts become futile, even with these hints lay in front of us.

"I still can't figure out who he is," I babble to myself while scratching my bed-hair still craze on my head. In a few minutes, I might aggravate and feel impatient with this simple problem.

"At the very least, we have our first lead, am I right?" Roxy utters while acting as if she is reading the pages of the literature book.

"Yeah," I serenely answer, while I imitate her gestures. "And that piece of information is pointless for now."

We have never heard from this Nick in the past six hours, even before our classes have started. It only reinforces our claim that he is a student attending his lectures.

But the problem lies in where to find him. We live in such an enormous world outside these doors and even broader out the yard. There is no way we can find him, let alone converse with him, if he has the time. He can always ditch out and ghost us whenever he wants to. (Ghosting is the practice of ending a personal relationship with someone by suddenly and without explanation withdrawing from all communication. -Oxford Dictionary)

"Am I hearing rats or bees disrupting my class?" Our professor turns hysterical after hearing our eternal buzzing with each other. Despite our undertaking of being noiseless, the workaholic instructor catches us amidst the lecture.

She is, by far, the worst schoolteacher that has been assigned to our Class 1-B.

Everyone in the section does not articulate a single word and let our supervisor pass by. My classmates are not the type of people that ditch their comrades but would help them get off the hook if they have the chance.

That event includes right now, where they could effortlessly blame us for our chitchatting.

"The silent treatment," The schoolteacher adds while scanning our faces with her hideous presence. "Very well, then! Pop-quiz for today."

All of us groan in unison after hearing such terrifying news. Unfortunately, we cannot lay a finger out of the situation and accept our consequences.

"My brethren, I will repay you in another life," I silently sigh, while sinking my head between my petite shoulders. "I hope you would not hate me after this."

Eventually, our lunch break comes with the escort of the bell chiming throughout the room. Most of the students rush outside and head towards the cafeteria, except for the two of us. We have already gone out near the fire exit with our lunch box with us. It is right next to Class 1-A.

We could only cross our fingers and hope to notice a random guy gripping his pencil and a sheet of paper on a desk.

"Did you find anything?"

"No, chief. Nothing from the ordinary,"

We have been acting like infamous spies with an order by some shady organisations to monitor someone we do not even have a clue of his whereabouts. The sole details that we have are his name (Nick) and the colour of his jeans. We do not have enough clues other than these, making our life more miserable at the seams.

"Elementary, my friend!" Roxy exclaims while bringing out a magnifying glass inside her bag. "We just need to find more evidence that would support our claim."

"Where did you even find those lenses?"

"Worry not, Watson! The puzzle is simple, lurking around the corners of our school-wanting to reveal itself,"

"That's not something Sherlock would say," I suggest while scoping my eyes over each classroom, trying to find something that would look like a Nick.

After finishing our meal, we use our remaining time to venture forth, locating every room around Class 1-A. Luckily, the area is just around the corner, besides our classroom. We would never be late if we ever catch someone suspicious around these aisles.

"Found anything, bravo?"

"Another reference?" I ask.

Roxanne nods firmly, dedicating herself to become a notorious spy sent out by a tenebrous organisation as I have said before. I never want to be a part of that management and never dream about it!

Yet, here I am, going with the flow of my friend.

"Nothing yet, Charlie." I give her my effortless reply.

We even ask other students wandering outside, counting on to find someone with the name Nick. I am growing tired of this trip, not knowing when could this even put to an end.

However, they tell us they have never heard of that name before while shrugging their shoulders. Not even a single soul wants to share their information about the boy that could draw comic books.

"It almost looked like they were hiding something from us!" Roxanne yells, with her hands clutching and curling into a fist of fury. She is also preparing to punch someone without warning, so I step aside and evade her sight before something could even happen.

Nick's absence also bothers me if he really is a student who have enrolled in our school. It is a phenomenon to hear that nobody in class 1-A knows him or even has heard of his name. The only thing that I could think of is if he is a late enrollee that has not yet submitted his application forms.

"Come to think of it, didn't our semester open just a week ago?" I wonder, while closing my lips in a pouting manner.

"Yeah," Roxanne's voice trails off in the distance before abruptly snapping her fingers into realisation. "That may be the case."

"You think so?"

After our exchange, we return to our classroom for our afternoon class. It is the same dull presentation with the preparation of our student teacher. If it is not for his monotonic voice, he would have piqued my interest.

"No signs of him yet?" Roxanne bends her head over from the desk as if stretching out her stiff body. She does this all the time and makes it a habit to communicate with me during class.

"Nothing in particular,"

Eventually, we hear the bell rings, notifying the school grounds of our dismissal. All of us rush outside, not wanting to stay inside the room for any longer with the schoolteacher. We all know that once he sees us still unprepared, he will distribute further assignments unrelated to our lesson for today.

Roxane and I run across the hall and meet with the wandering students in front of Class 1-A. We have seen no unknown faces since then, together with the recognisable jeans of Nick.

The two of us journeys to the principal's office and meet with our adviser of the school. That is our plan.

According to Roxy, she is also in charge of accepting new students while managing an assembly for us, newcomers. The school is preparing an event where all first-year students get an invitation to come along to the party.

Her name is Yoshitsugu Ai. She is a young professor who teaches chemistry and biology in various universities. The school suggested Yoshitsugu a contract to teach high school students for the upcoming university curriculum since the new building is currently under construction nearby. That is the news that we have been hearing until now.

Once they complete the structure, graduates of our academy will have the option to enrol in this international school and become a university.

"Good morning, Roxane and Yuki. How are you? Are you still adjusting to the school?" Ai rummages her hands from the documents she is carrying while starting a conversation.

"Hello, Ms. Ai!" We both greet back while surveying the office with distinct designs and bonsai. It is a miniature garden that looks even more plant life than the ones we have in our yard.

Suddenly, she then switches her language into Japanese. The mother tongue of this country. Although I am half Japanese and half American, I am born and raised in America with my family.

Learning Japanese or any other language was not a thing in the past that I could have performed. There were a lot of things running through my mind, including the books that I have written. But now, I am learning the language again since I need it to communicate with my peers.

"Sorry, Ms. Ai. We can't fluently speak or understand Nihongo yet," I interpose with our teacher, hoping she could understand.

Ai immediately reverts to her original English-speaking mode to convey her words.

"Oh, I thought you could speak Nihongo already," Ai embarrassingly voices out while rubbing her hair bun shaped like a ball.

The three of us laugh together in harmony, without a care in the world. We feel that we have gotten close to our professor in the first few days of our school.

"Ms. Ai, do we have a student named Nick in the first year?" I query our teacher a question while rubbing the painting's surface on the wall.

"Let me go through my documents," She answers while setting down the mountain of sheets on the close-by desk, together with the rest of the folders.

After waiting for a couple of seconds, Ms. Ai reaches out for a wrinkled paper with a tiny looking picture on the upper right side.

"We have one late student arriving in our school," She merrily waves the paper, back and forth, and soon returns it from where it has belonged. "His name is Nick, just like what you have mentioned."

Gazing intently at the wagging sheet, I discern his full name with his pairing signature at the bottom right. His name is Nickson B. Park, a Korean student who also transferred to this international academy recently.

The photo taken by Nick makes him look attractive. My eyes even refuse to avert their gaze from the enrollment form. He has messy hair that superbly fits well with his attire and looks, making him more eye-catching from his photo alone.

"I hate to admit it, but he's really hot for our age," Roxane whispers to my ear, neatly chewing them off if she is not careful.

My best friend boldly voices out her thoughts, which I could never do. Although I agree with her idea, Nickson is still the man behind the manga of my story.

"He looks extremely ugly, like a goblin," I retort while avoiding her gaze.

Roxy knows too well about me. She notices I am lying and dishonest with my feelings, clear with the pinkish hue covering my cheeks out of ignominy.

"Speak of the devil." Ms. Ai points her finger behind us-towards the man awkwardly entering the room.