Chapter 2

The gym class came exactly as I expected (last period, by the way). Which was a good thing, because today was the most unexpected. My dyslexia have been getting worse. Just in the morning I saw something beforehand and then it happened (I hope I see something good and it will happen in gym class).

The second-to-last class (and not second-last, seriously, that's wrong English) has just got over and after exiting the class, I am now walking towards the gym, in no hurry as the last class was on the same floor as the gym, so it is pretty close. Everyone else has forgotten my punishment, or whatever it was. But it is still surreal for me. I stopped the chalk. How?

And just as I am thinking all this, I see her walking towards me (just kidding, towards the gym) from the other end of the corridor. I can see her chestnut hair draped over her shoulders. She is wearing a white top with deep blue jeans. Simple, yet I think I should have read the symptoms for heart attack because I'm feeling like that. (Don't know why?).

I realise I have slowed down and so even if we were going to cross, we don't; as she enters before me. 'But she usually comes late to class, doesn't she?' I realise that I dart my head behind me, seeing the empty corridor.

I'm late.

I run as I think again: how? (I think that's enough how-s for one day)

The doors bang against the wall as I enter the gym. I see our sports teacher talking to some students while the other are getting ready for many things. I guess today's free play. I'm not that late.

"Late again, Mr. Carlssin", notes my sports teacher, although I am never late (first page). His clean-shaven head is as shiny as anything that shines really bright (I mean, incomparably shiny). And he is wearing a blue tracksuit with white stripes along the sides. He points that round globe of an uninhabitable planet (his head; I hate his guts, always picking on me) to the volleyball court, which is placed in a corner of the large auditorium. There is commotion all around as most of the students can't decide what to play.

He is telling to join the students playing volleyball (because voluntarily, I will not play because I'm good sports, just that.... Oh, everyone knows that already).

And, now that I see who is playing, all my frustration (at my Mr. Potato teacher) vanishes. She is there, getting ready for the play. If the games are in the last period no one needs to change clothes, so I take off my jacket (trying to be as dashing as I can) and as I am jogging toward her (as I'll be on no other team than hers), I fall on my face.

I feel a foot obstruct my path and then my face feels the rest. My first thought is, I have already made a fool of myself as everyone only on the volleyball court start laughing (yes, 'only' because it is in a corner and it is already noisy).

Second, who the trippy-head did this. And as I think this, I turn my face to the left to see it is Trippy-head, the guy who tripped me in the morning with a grin on his square face. (Funny his name is Mark Head)

"What up, carlie boy", he taunts. And I don't know why but I am much more irritated hearing it from him, hearing it while I'm on the floor holding myself on my palm as I start to raise myself.

He grabs my collar and yanks me off the floor and I land on my butt (yes, laugh here). I start to pick up myself up again, but my vision goes almost blind and a blinding pain races from my temple (see it, real pain: blinding twice). And I lose my balance and sit flat on my butt again.

But this time I don't hear anything laugh, although I know everyone must be. Or I can't hear it. Or I'm too busy to hear it (figure of speech again; I'm not that busy). I bind my eyelids together.

(Not now, not now; whatever it is, not now) I can't see anything but the pain is still there in my head.

"What's happening there?". The sound of coach actually races from my head to toe (I don't know; usually I'm not happy to hear him).

"No-, na.... nothing, coach", answers Trippy-head, trembling. Whatever the case coach is actually feared for his short temper.

I open my eyes and everything is still hazy, but after a moment everything clears out. I can see her looking at me, like I'm E.T. or something and I feel even more stupid.

Now after this, getting up on my feet is the easy part. Walking to the court, now that's something. Everyone's eyes are trained on me. The ball is lying on the ground. She tilts her head to the side as I figuring out a question asked about English in an IT company's interview (I know, way too precise; because I am only looking at her).

Because I remember now, when I was on the ground, my hands were around my temples, squeezing them as if to push out my brain. The pain was so hard, this time.

It is not like I haven't ever talked to her. She needed some notes once, and I helped her. It was one of the few times we conversed. So, I had stretched that out as much I could have. So, we know each other. And I think she wants to ask, "what happened there" but she hesitates.

I join the game on her team and the play begins...... on me. I mean can everyone only see me? Because every hit is directed towards me. (What in Messi's name is happening) Just kidding, I know they are deliberately hitting me.

But after a while, everything becomes normal as our team gets the lead (obviously because of her) and the competitive nature takes lead. I am asked to be in the left back corner and I obediently agree because I won't be of much help (and also because she covers for me and is standing right in front of me). And the best thing she said that she will do it for me (get it, for me).

I observe we are still in the lead and coach whistles indicating only 5 minutes left for the play.

The ball is being thrown, smashed, and punched back almost seamlessly and the game is going fantastic. Both the teams are playing well. But one of our teammates standing in the centre mistakenly catches the ball instead of punching it back and we lose our lead and are now tied (were we just one point ahead?). There is not much time left now so the game resumes almost immediately.

The ball is still almost floating between the two sides without touching the net. I look at her and see her punch back the ball.

My vision tunnels again and everything accept her becomes dull and mixed, just like the portrait mode in iPhone. She is just standing there after punching the ball, ready to return if it comes again. But just then, just the very then, I see two of her apparitions, almost like her but just mixed with the environment like a eukaryotic cell with its content spilling out.

Apparition 1 punches the ball back, just like she did but instead the actual-she is just standing there (please let it be so) and the Apparition 2 isn't moving.

Suddenly, Apparition 2 is set into action and it runs for the net, its colours still spilling like its running in superspeed, instead it is all in slow motion. I see it take just a short sprint and turn around to hit the ball which is now coming towards her from our side. Like someone passed it to her and then she will hit it back to their side just beside the net which will most likely be dropped due to a clever return in the heat of the moment.

She does just that, but she couldn't. She was so involved in the game that she does not realise her sprint was more than enough to reach the nets. When she turns around to face the ball, she hits her the pole with the back of the head (and she hits it a bit too hard, just amplify 'bit' by 100).

I shut my eyes and open them again. All I see is her jumping off her right foot to take the sprint. And her right foot is already in front of her again.

If anything I see happens, then... . I realise I am already running after her. I don't know if what I see will happen or not. If she is going to hit it lightly and its nothing. I don't care if it is her or anyone else.

If I can prevent it, I will.

And just as think this I reach forward with my left hand, but I realise she is too far away. I won't be able to save her and she will hit her head and bleed and hopefully survive without any major problem. But a scar will be there on her head, reminding of how chose to contemplate when I could have run and saved her (although nothing major happens).

I close my eyes and think hard of her hitting her head and falling down, bleeding. I think so hard my head hurts, like a bullet piercing my left and right temple from the inside.

My eyes are still closed and I might have stopped the sprint but I feel something under my outstretched hand, something solid. I push whatever it is towards the left. And the reaction veers me towards the right (although, I could have done that myself). My vision takes a bit time to clear after I open my eyes as I had shut them too hard. I fall on the squeaky wooden floor on my palm. And although anyone else could have regained their balance, I don't. I think my butt has a crush on the floor.

My falling on the right side had saved me from hitting the pole I was trying to save from her(sorry, bad joke; couldn't stop myself). She is sitting on the ground glaring at me, her frustration infused with the bulk of confusion: whether to hit me for pushing her or making her lose the game (or both? She's very competitive).

We lose the game as coach whistles again to say time up.

"Are you stupid, Peter?", she almost yells with the pent-up frustration+confusion.

I look up as if actually questioning myself 'am I stupid?' Then I realise that must be even stupider (if that word exists).

"We were winning the game, carlie boy", she stands up and walks towards me like a predator moving in for the kill (except the prey does not have feelings for its killer). She has never called me 'carlie boy', only Trippy-head did, so she must be serious.

I try to come up with an explanation, it is this: "Sorry". Then I realise it is not even an explanation. My head is down, because I don't want to look at her and it has never been like that.

"Sorry doesn't cut it". She is standing over me now and I can see her shoes and her le...(concentrate!).

"Then what can I do, Hannah", my head still hung, I almost murmur. I realise others are moving around us but not saying a word. Is she that fierce? (I guess I am attracted to strong female).

She 'aahhs' into the empty air and tries to snatch her hair (except she doesn't) in frustration.

"Go away", she grunts. I want to tell her it is just a game, but I guess it is not the right time.

So, I just stand up and walk away, my head looking at my shoes make squeaky sounds against the floor. My chances with her are over before they were even there. Then I think what I was going to tell her: 'it is just a game'.

I look up and find Keith standing inside beside the door.

"How'd did it go?", he asks as I cross him to make my way to the door.

"Don't ask", is all I reply as I think about what had happened. Me unable to stop her, then.... how did I reach her in time. Then I dismiss the thought. Must be my vision. I must have been close enough. I am already not seeing things as they are.

Keith walks with me as we both make our way to our hostel. I genuinely thought today would be good. My day actually did get ruined, mum was right.

It is 7:00 pm now. We'll be called anytime for dinner. I want to check the blog for any update. Then I realise I don't want anything weird to happen in that story. Enough has happened to me today. I will check tomorrow.

I sit back on my chair, wearing just flash jogger and flash sweatshirt (I love Flash). Other guys are doing different things, some surfing on their laptop, some doing their homework. Keith didn't talk to me much. I guess another of my few friends must have told him or he must have understood. He is telepathic in his own way.

My mind wanders again to that moment. How she was waiting one moment for the ball. Her plan must have already been formed. Then how I saw her one apparition punch the ball she had just and another sprint for the ball.

How I was too late to reach her. Then one moment later, my fingers made contact.

I am brought down to earth by the ring of the bell. It is time for dinner.

Nothing much happened in the mess. Keith tried talking to me. We did converse but mostly discussed homework. He told me he would leave some chapters for the test before Christmas holiday. I informed him that I will study all the chapters, even if it takes more time than necessary (that is me; I never leave anything, not even in academics). I eventually filled him in what had happened (except the part where I saw something happen beforehand and then what I saw happened). It was complicated but I managed to lie. Mark 'Trippy' Head tried to pick on me but I guess I must have been too passive and he left me.

I am in the dorm now. I walk towards my bed. I feel lightheaded and there is a dull pain in my temples. Students are now coming to the dorm room. Some chatting with their friends. I glance back down the corridor. There are doorways leading to the dorms located to either side and opening to each other. Ours is just opposite to the one in the other end of the corridor. Only difference is that ours doesn't have stairs leading down from near it. So, every student has to walk to the dorm opposite to ours to get to the main corridor.

It is getting crowded now as the number of fellow boarders leaving the mess increases. I did not eat much there.

"Hey there, carlie boy", comes a voice from behind me. I know who it is: Mark Head.

"What now, Head", I complain back, bored by his name-calling (even though I named him too, but at least he doesn't know).

"Your chick scolded you?", he teases.

"It doesn't concern you", I reply through my teeth and clench and unclench my fist.

He is now moving towards me. "She's out of your league, you know", he grins "I'll get her... for you, of course. Then I'll tell you how her hands feel, tha..."

"Shut-up", my yell cuts him short. He flinches back for a second but smirks realising he has touched a nerve.

"Or what, chicken" he continues to advance, "what will you d...?"

But he is interrupted again by a deep voice. "I realise he told you to shut-up".

It is a one of my few friends. That deep voice could only be his. I realise I did 'chicken' as my head was still hung down. I look up to find Keith standing beside him.

After that it was pretty much Mark actually shutting up and Keith trying to look intimidating as if he did everything. He is pretty much like me: good heighted but too thin. Not 'too thin' too thin but just thin enough to look like Andrew Garfield minus good looks. (Thinking about yourself is frustrating AARRGH)

My other friend just talked a bit then moved back to his dorm. He was of a good built and muscular not in a Hulk-way but enough. We were acquaintances, not very good friends.

After sometime, I take off my glasses retire to bed and so does Keith and pretty much everyone else.

I am now lying in the bed. My eyes are closed because I've had enough 'weird' for today and I don't want to see anything 'weird' anymore. Sleep was difficult due to so many questions floating around in my mind. How could everything happen like I see them beforehand? Why was it happening when I was still wearing my glasses? Why is my butt attracted to floors?

Today was much too exhausting even for a normal 8th grader. These very questions bore me to sleep.

In my dream I see something way too vivid and absurd to be real. I see two shadows moving towards me and one puts its hand or hand-like things on my sleep-grade arm. It yanks me off the bed and at the same time, I wake up in the real world.

I am still lying, but I realise I'm sweating and panting. I slightly readjust my head and see two shadowy figures standing in the doorway.