There is a limit to amusement, and most people dedicate it to their forbearance. It can be said that you can’t judge the book by its cover; preferably, I would want to criticize every single thing I see. Considering that my impression dictates judgment to create certainty of whether to trust or not. However, I know when not to trust my impression in order not to create misunderstandings. Whereas, I am also one of those who gets misunderstood by such first impression.

            Loner, hard to approach, sinister, edgy, cool, and I don’t know what else everyone might call me. Still, I know that opinions are just opinions. If views are what the vast majority believe, then I would have unconsciously considered that one of the aforementioned opinions is correct.  

            Albeit, as I have said, this doesn’t just apply to me. Most of society garners information through impression; they relay the single bit of unevidenced details and claim it as an assertion. Apart from that, they won’t bother to understand you and pridefully stand with what they have. Unlike them, however, I know when to put my first impression on someone or when to understand someone fully.

            In the past, I’ve always believed that Mia Daphne was a stupid fool. Suffocating herself from the will of her parents and forcing herself to do what she disliked. And even after that, she would complain and vent everything just to be felt understood. I disliked women like her. Women who don’t understand the reality ahead of them. Women who dream and cries when they losses them. Women who hate something that displease them. And lastly, a woman who would rudely call me a pathetic loner of all the loner.

            But that was my first impression of her—an image that felt like I understood her very well, but in fact, I didn’t, and I don’t even know if what I am saying is correct. However, the fact remains that I hate women who are a complete loser.

            Nevertheless, as time passed by, or specifically, five months passed by. I realized that Mia Daphne might have been aware of the cruel reality before her. She probably knew how unavoidable and how unstoppable her current situation is. Despite all that, she still went on about reaching the other end of the line.

            She is strong, isn’t she?

            I don’t know about now. Maybe Mia has changed and has forgotten about our meeting. If that did happen, then I would be depressed—that the point of my own action has led to nothing.

            “Malcolm Ellis. What are you spacing? Are you thinking about the new transfer students?”

            Malcolm Ellis. I don’t hate it, and I don’t like it either. It’s somewhere along the line of hot and cool, but I can’t even comprehend the meaning of my name—like it was just two names combined together. Besides, names are just words; anyone could just be someone else; they could even have the same name as me. Maybe somewhere along the line of my life, I’d probably have to keep changing my identity for some different reasons. 

            I took my sight of the wall beside me and looked at the stranger talking to me.

            I thought it was some random normie trying to force me to change my ways to become useful from society and be positive for the rest of my life. If that happens, I’d probably grab the tip of that normies’ shirt and talk shit about him in many ways. Still, that just made my blood boiling.  

            “Transfer students? I don’t know what you were talking about.”

            It’s nothing surprising these days to find out that students will be transferring here. As a first-year student, I can assume how high-standard this high school is with just one look. And getting enrolled here takes a while—as there will be short interviews as an oral introduction and different subjects test you need to pass. I already forget about the other things you have to go through. Although there are specific exploits to get away from these tedious tasks, and that’s money.

            It’s depressing that I don’t have the money to do those-and-that stuff quickly, and I bet that goes the same for the other students that came in this school through sheer intellect only. What middle-income adversity.

            “Haha. Spacing again, aren’t you? I hope I can be like you. Gettin’ good grades without even listening—like the manga I just read.” He slapped my shoulder softly.

            I changed my posture—my shoulders in the top of my chair resting, and my legs straightly stretched. “Too bad. I do a quick study before the exam, or if any of the tests happen.”

            “That’s surprising… What do you say? You and I do some group activity together.”

            “Why would I do that?”

            Hell no. I don’t want you spending in my house or in your home just so I can teach you every single lecture we’ve done recently. Wait—how did you get enrolled in this school again? It’s money, isn’t it? It is, or it might not be. Let me ask.

            “How did you got enrolled in this high school again?”

            “Oh… about that. Well, the teachers said that I was ‘this close,’ I guess.”

            It’s a dumbass. There is no mistaking it. He also seems to be a lucky-go-person and a comic relief—at that. What am I supposed to do to him?

            “Please, aren’t we friends?”

            “Get out of my sight.”

            Obviously, Sherlock Holmes. You think I’d let this person who randomly calls someone a friend if he proves beneficial to his life become my friend? Don’t try me, because I’ll beat the shit out of you if you come any closer, you little—no, wait, let’s not be too harsh at him. I don’t think he has any apparent motive, to begin with. It’s just a straightforward old person who wants to learn.

            Well, ignorance is bliss, after all.

            “Haven’t you heard of the quote, ‘A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal’ by… some guy named Ralph Immersion?”

            “That’s Ralph Emerson—not Ralph Immersion, and that quote is by Steve Maraboli from Life the Truth, and Being Free.”

            It’s bizarre how I can remember the name of the people who quoted these words. If anything,  I should be cleaning my apartment while grinding my gacha games. It’s better to kill time that way instead of learning bits of knowledge that won’t help me in the future.

            “And for us to meet… just like the birds of a feather flock together.”

            More like, ‘A drowning man will clutch at the wrong straw.’

            “I don’t even know your name—who are you?”

            We’ve been talking casually for a while, so I am getting a little interested as to who might be the person I am talking to. I am entirely oblivious, you see. I don’t know who I am talking to, and in exchange, no one knows me too.

            “Eh… it’s me, Harley Kurth. I can’t believe you’d forget the person next to you.”

            I don’t even remember you sitting next to me. But even if I do, I wouldn’t bother knowing you at all, so I guess there is no point in saying that. In retrospect, this is the first time that someone talked to me out-of-nowhere.

            This must be the time that I’ll finally have my first friend.

            “My name is Malcolm Ellis, as you’ve heard or seen. Nice to meet you.” I suddenly pulled my left hand in front of him, showing signs of wanting a handshake, and he jerked his head, perplexed.

            He then said, “Uh… nice to meet you too. Name’s Harley Kurth… even though I’ve already said it.” He then firmly hold my left hand, and together, we formed a handshake, furthermore, a bond.  

            I am expecting a lot of things from a friend. If he uses me as some sort of useful tool for his future. Then I’ll teach him a lesson to become an independent person both physically and mentally. But thinking about it now, I don’t think he can do such a thing.

            Ignorance is bliss. Indeed.

            “You seem stiff,” I said.

            “It’s just that you were kinda hard-to-approach, and I thought if I talked to you, you would just push me away, but I seem to have misunderstood. My bad.”

            It’s better to learn to never judge the book by its cover because you’ll miss many things in life if you keep on thinking that everything is what it always seems. Precisely, a particular prideful or dense character.

            And that’s what it means to do something you’ve never done before. Because reasons exist that make you defy such activity, like your parents or friends' opinion, or the doubts of your own talent. Albeit, it is reasonable that you would feel that way. I just don’t think it’s okay to be like that every day.

            “It’s alright.” I stood up from my chair and walked next to the door.

            “Where are you going?”

            “Somewhere peaceful. Can I ask you to please tell the next teacher that’ll lecture us that ‘Malcolm Ellis has a headache and is going to the clinic office to get treated’?”

            “Ah… right.”

            It doesn’t look like I am one to talk about using a friend, aren’t I?

            I then immediately left for the cafeteria to mend my starvation. I ordered two bread and one vitamin C juice before sitting in a random chair while looking at the scenery outside, packed with vibrant colors and different flowers.

            I should reschedule my activities, merely getting bleary from some different work will cause me a coffin. Still, having to do a part-time job discreetly to get some money for my basic needs is somehow exhausting—even though I am used to it. But I don’t want to rely on my parents, and indeed, I also wouldn’t want them to worry about me.

            Shall I take a day off my part-time job?

            I should. I can’t be pushing my luck because nothing comes off by overdoing hard work.

            “Hmph… hmph! This is annoying.” A woman wearing a stylish school uniform and a handbag comes inside in woe, and she seems to be stomping the wall out of frustration. The attendant couldn’t do anything about it but is forced to listen to such bothering vents.

            Finishing my bread and juice, I decided to walk near the woman to see what was going on.

            “What’s annoying?” I threw the juice’s paper cup with extensive cautiousness.

            “You are annoying. Your face is annoying, and your looks are annoying. I want to beat the hell out of them!” She keeps on stomping the ground.

            What the hell? Who gave you the authorization to tell me that I look like an annoying person? That hurts, you know that! And even if I am, do you really have to say it out loud? What if you weren’t aware that you have an annoying face too? Seriously, is her anger to blame, or is this because of my face?

            I should have gone into a salon and decided to let those gays run wild on fixing my looks. Albeit for a rude loud-mouthed person, I should make her apologize by allowing me in some five-star salon to get some better looks. Well, she does look like a rich person wearing such a stylish uniform.

            I’ve got an idea.

            I grabbed both of her shoulders in desperation, and she became surprised in the process. “Then, can you do something about it?”

            “D-Do you really want to be beaten that hard?”

            “I do—so beat me straight to the five-star salon!”

            Ah, I stuttered.

            “You… you masochist!”

            Alright. I may have misunderstood her about what I want. This is my fault. As an introvert who doesn’t have any communication skills and can’t speak fast without blundering, I deserve it. I can typically talk when it’s all about business, but this is a different matter. Can I tell her I was just joking?

Well, after getting slapped in the face—probably not.

            After she slapped me so hard that I could feel a few chromosomes exiting in my body, I decided to make this the right opportunity to talk it out. This was actually a ploy to stop her from creating stupid scenes before the teachers turn her in. However, my real reason was to make her apologize for slapping me—even though I did deserve it.

             “Hmph! What is it with you, you a masochist? After getting slapped, you ask me to sit with you in these filthy seats.” She grabbed a tissue in her handbag and cleaned the chair before sitting.

            “Overreacting much,” I said. “Oh—and I am not a masochist, drop that already. I am just interested in your childish noises in this sacred place of eating.”

            “Don’t call it childish noises! I am already mature enough to know my place.”

            “Then don’t just spout your opinions out-loud, kid.”

            “I am no kid, dumbass! Can’t you see that I have a name?”

            “How the hell would I know if you don’t tell me?” I interjected for no reason.

            “It’s Charlotte. Reyn. Fernando! Get it?” She stood with her left palm placed in her heart as she pridefully said her name. In seconds, she then quickly sat back like nothing just happened.

And for some reason, I am clearly bothered by such pride. I feel like a cockroach unworthy of listening to such a three-worded name being said with such pride. It’s because I do not harbor such feelings in my name, after all.

            “Alright, Charlotte-whatever, Reyn-whatever, or Fernando-whatever. What is your problem?”

            She seemed to have been angered, but no, she seemed to be calm enough to let my rudeness go. “I am tired of keeping up with you, so I’ll let you go. Be thankful. I would have made you beg in front of me with that rudeness of yours. Well, speaking of beg, how about you do just that if you want me to tell you something.”

            For a rich woman with decent height, you think you could just say the word ‘beg’ in front of a person with unbreakable dignity? Don’t think I won’t beat you because you are a woman—and know your place. I am taller than you.

            I mean, that’s my only advantage here that I am proud of.

            I stood and near pushed my head at her, and she pulled herself back. “Listen here, you little brat—you little woman with clout. You should be thanking me because I am listening to you like a saint from the catholic churches—trying to feel your situation. If you think I’ll kiss your ass, then I’ll bend your neck and bury your body where no one will be able to find it here and now!” As I was slowly moving my arms in her neck. She then pushed her chair back while being covered in fear. After that, she then slammed her palms on the table to dissipate the scariness.

            “G-Get those filthy hands away from me. I get it. I’ll tell you my story, so stay seated.” She lost in the battle of wits—but I knew it was a one-sided battle. It’s a surprise to see her apologize as a woman with influence and power.

            So much for such pride.

            If this was Mia Daphne, whatsoever, she’d retort back at me with some physical attack—rendering me useless. I shouldn’t compare someone else from Mia Daphne like I know anything about her. Well, talk about first impressions.  

            “So, what’s bothering you?” I stared at the scenery beside us.

            “Hey… um, nevermind—I will be direct. Do you want money?” She hesitatingly asked, and suddenly, I was forced to look at her because of her unclear actions.

            “No?” I hinted at my uncertainty from reasons of doubts.

            “What about fame? Or about relationships?”

            “Wait, wait—what’s this all about?”

            “I am asking you a question. What else am I doing?”

            “Yeah, you are asking me a question. A bizarre question that’s out-of-nowhere. Money, fame, and relationship? Are you trying to hire me or something?”

            “Then… what is it that you want?”

            “First of all, tell me what this is all about. You are confusing me.”

            “It’s… it is because… I want to be expelled from this high school!”

            “Huh?”