"Come on, Pastry."

"Come on, you can do it."

It's Harvey who has decided to start the first minute of lunch, making the best use of his time by insulting Paisley, who at this current moment, is trying to get out of the car whilst not stepping on the huge puddle.

There has been presence of uncertain omens in Seinefield.

Firstly, Harvey has passed Double Biology Labs on Monday.

Secondly, I have gotten a straight B in Geology, with the help of Lady Luck since Morocco wasn't in place to being involved with my grading.

Thirdly, it has rained last night and Wednesday morning has bought out housewives with colorful umbrellas. Seinefield takes pride in the lack of rain especially on the remaining months of this year, so the images of people with multicolored parasols and untimely windbreakers hinted at a strange phenomenon.

I want to appoint the fourth strange altercation to Jackie's absence in the last two days but it wouldn't be appropriate since I know the exact reasons why he resulted to act like a coward.

It might seem insensitive to place him under a label like that but I decided to ignore any thoughts that included him or Dolorous.

For good reasons too.

"Almost there Pastry. Almost."

Harvey's eccentric yell catches the woman in the driving seat as she plants one quick kiss on her cheek before throwing a confused look at us.

We are leaning on the parking lot wall, behind the cafeteria and the window stills are used as tray holders.

Pastry, uncommonly know as Praisely to the people who don't subside in bullying her, is the perfect victim. She's popular, mostly for the work her mother does for Seinfeild's women empowerment, she would have been considered attractive on a level of smooching and passionate necking even, but her obesity stands in the way between her intimacy with someone equally attractive.

My mother doesn't approve of woman empowerment organization since in her youth, she saw it as a perfect trap for men to point out who were too weak and too dependable. She never goes through the trouble of explaining the reason behind her old school reasoning, but I suspect some distressed memories are involved.

"Hey Dense. Dense. Denise !"

The boy in the Victorian robes were looking around to see if he could spot anyone that could detect him. He didn't notice Harvey on the window still but Harvey, who's pumped on his inflammatory ego sees his next perfect victim walking down the asphalt.

I sense a gay joke rising on the horizon of his ecstasy.

"Hey, Juliet! Juliet! Art, hold on!" He rhythmically snaps his finger as he he chugs a huge gulp of orange juice, balancing the small cup on his hand as he steps out of the cover.

There's a flutter of a Juny's shirt as he hastily departs from the scene without looking long and straight at anything.

I poke the pudding open as I lean back on the window.

Let bygones be bygones.

"Hey Juliet. Kissed Romeo lately?" Harvey's wide grin looks back to conjure some support from me. I don't disappoint.

"No, Harvey. We are not doing Shakespeare."

"Really? You look gay enough. I didn't know there is someone out there who could be more of a homo than him."

Harvey is dead wrong in terms of literally accuracy. Shakespeare is light years away from considered as romantic or in juvenile terms "gay" . Yes, there's much of a debate when someone brings "Romeo and Juliet" in the conversation but Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello are dipped in betrayal, lust, power hunger, ambition and all things that have the ability to put zeal into men.

Right now, Harvey need not know of literal accuracy.

I am condemning this bullying.

"Ms. Abby has something else in mind." He eyes me first. I can sense an yelp of wanting help in his look.

I am stationary.

Nature demands this humiliation.

"What? Something good, then?" Harvey's tone changes to a friendly one as he steps in closer.

"Yeah, actually it's.." Denise's explanation stumps to an antsy halt as Harvey remarks.

"Something good then. Yeah, like your sex change. God knows you need one."

It must be the bond of brotherhood that is tickling my belly.

I am laughing and in the process of the violent jerk from the body, lost a drool of Chocolate pudding as it escapes.

"Yea. . . yeah. Wasn't it a good one?" He gazes back at me as I note the euphoria in Harvey's facial disposition. This will be the highlight of his weekend. He would tell his mother about his success in Biology but the intensity of delirium will rest in the joyous memory of insulting Denise.

Denise's face has swelled up in anger but no retaliation like a swift punch fails to conjure in himself as he fasten his robes and start his outraged fast walk to the cafeteria entrance.

"Denise, Dense. Hold on!" Harvey's surprising tone of sudden realization stumps me for a second as he trots to catch Denise and his aggravated feet.

If I know Harvey, which I do, his intention doesn't hold an apology.

I am in want of a necessary surprise.

"Denise, come on, man!" I can grasp a side view of Harvey's banked face as he leaps across the puddle.

Possibly, this can be the switch away from his egotistic, testicleesque behavior to someone who has heard of a humane emotion called "Empathy" and knows not only the definition but how to practice it.

After he apologizes, he won't ever make snappy remarks at Mrs. Muhr and her thousand year old face, having a distinct similarity with a male Buddhist monk. Harvey won't ever make fun of someone, just because they are in a play and have almost next to none connection with being a homosexual.

"Come on, man ! You know, we were just messing with ya."

"Ha ha, very funny." Denise is wearing an artificial, sarcastic smile on his face.

"But I was serious though. About it."

"What? The play?"

"No. Your sex change!" The wind whistles past us and I can still hear the shoes crackle of that long lost Juny, running as far as he can as if a nuclear bomb was to explode.

"Seriously, you know. It is an insult to us. You know us. MEN! Not to you, FRUITS!"

I have looked away and unfortunately just in time because when I throw my gaze back, I see Harvey's burger swimming in the puddle and the other hand is still forcing imprisonment on the orange juice carton.

It is the congenital response of being aggressive when one member of a tribe is faced with danger.

I quick skip across the puddle, an angry demeanor hovering on my face as I stomp across the turf to reach them.

Denise has already realized what he has done and his once aggravated legs are sticking to the ground in dumb fear as he views my furious entrance.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh?" I hoot as I reach the crime scene.

Harvey is already performing a recovery grunt as he stands up.

"Dense!" He yells before swatting me aside as he bursts the private boundary of Denise.

His pale hands clutching onto the Victorian robes.

I do nothing.

There's supposed to be a thumping nose of a punch, premature hand bones kissing the fluffy cheeks of Denise's and the agonizing groan which will assure the delivery.

But the air is still disappointing me as I hear half spoken curses, heavy grunts and huffing between the two boys, clasped together in a manly bond which was supposed to be fighting.

For all I can see from my blocked perspective and all I can hear, they could be making out and passionate necking could be involved.

I cannot catch a proper view when a womanly yelp and a stout shriek hinder the ritual of men.

I feel a legitimate feeling of dishearten as Clay sprints out of the cafeteria door and in the mix.

"Get off ! Get off both of you!" Clay's voice has the boom of a matured adult such like our P.E instructor who proudly puts "Mansfield's Book of Manly Men" on the top of his office's shelves.

Students before us have tried to tease him about it but he sees the book as a relic of divine knowledge and offers his favorites to read it from time to time.

So everyone descends to insulting the unlucky favorite.

I have spent a week in such shame.

"Come on!" I am shocked to see that Rommery is getting involved, even from afar as she bellows a handful of wails. She spots me and I see no sense of common pleasure in her face.

"What's wrong with you?!"

"Well, guh....he fuckin' started it." Harvey spits instinctively and it flies of to the nearest person. Sticking to the edge of Clay's arm.

"Jeez ! Act your age, you imbecile !"

Denise has felt the least someone can feel out of a high school fight since the only damage are seen on his Victorian Robe, torn and whizzed near the chest.

"You fuckin' fruit !" Harvey pops on again like a poorly inflamed gas fire as he pushes Clay.

They are both huddled in a tight embrace since Clay's whole mass in now being utilized to hold back Harvey's unnerving fidgeting.

Harvey throws of insults at people of being homo but the amount of manly embrace he had in the last few minutes tells me otherwise.

Statistics do not lie.

"Jesus ! Let go ! Harvey, have you lost your head? Tanner's probably out there. If he fucking see you fisting Drama Club, you're dead!"

"The fuck I am!"

Denise is already at a retreat and before any of us can preach any sense into Harvey's fiery adolescent mind, his boots storms off at the other direction.

The orange juice suffers the "Post fight aggravation" as it pummels to a window.

"Damn !" Clay curses casually as the smile portraits on his face.

"Ugh. . . what's up with him?" Rommery's innocent request pokes annoyance into me as I turn away to face them.

"Hey ! You got juice on ya." She says as the giddy smile prods on her nervous face, hot from the excitement of a disappointing fight.

"Do I?" Clay circles himself around like a dog trying to chase his tail.

"And spit !"
" Gross ! " He laughs.
"Hold on, I got a handkerchief here somewhere."

I am invisible. I am light.

"Oh, thanks." Clay answers and momentarily, the awkward, flush of a smile jumps onto his mouth as he swings himself around whilst Rommery brushes the harmless liquids out of his neck.

I can sense a funny affection cooking in their smiles as I step away cordially from there heightening happiness.

"Shit! Come on! If we run, we can still slip in unnoticed! Mr. Ben's probably still cleaning his glasses!"
"Alright!"

Her smile has a threatening pitch of delight in them. Her laughter's buzz seems to harness all the alluring significance of a girl who has the ability to elongate some innocent desire in a certain someone's hearts.

"Come on!" He jeers her one more time and as naturally as it seems, her hand slips into his as they both chuckle immensely, stomping hard on the puddles as he pulls her fast.

Envy.

Clay's dislocated gaze chinks of everything before crashing on to me.

I see his smile losing steam and some questioned brows are slightly raised.

I am no longer invisible.

I am no longer light.