05.
[ H E R M I O N E ]

Mr. Peter is my new homeroom teacher. I scream silently into my arm frustratedly as I imagine all the different scenarios happening before me. Mr. Peter taking away my saxophone. Mr. Peter taking away my harp. Mr. Peter taking away my piano.

All because I dropped a pen in the middle of a lecture. In my daydream, he takes my precious instruments away in three different methods—a tow truck for my harp, an excavator for my piano, and my saxophone by brute force.

A soft, high-pitched voice comes from the person suddenly sitting beside me. It's Kyle, "Hey Hermione. How's... life, I guess?"

I wrack my brain for an appropriate reply to someone his caliber. Oh my god, this is the president of the student council you're talking to. Open up your mouth and speak, damn it. Give him a good impression; can't have him thinking you're mute.

"Oh, hi Kyle. I'm so-so. It's pretty exciting, today, but the fact that we'll be doing this for nearly 180 days shouts from the back of my head. You?"

Seriously? 'I'm so-so?' Is that the best I could come up with? I clench my fists and feel sweat beginning to pool in my palms.

Fortunately, I seem to pass as a worthy enough student to talk to. He smiles and replies, "I'm good. Today wouldn't be as depressing if we didn't have maths fir-"

Mr. Peter turns around, his dark skin glistening with perspiration and short frame sagging within the confines of his suit. There are tiny moons on his armpits as he lifts a hand off the board to point at us accusingly. A few hairs stick to the top of his balding head and his beady eyes stare at us, Indian heritage showing through his strict ways and incoherent accent.

"Silence! Or I will immediately cut five marks!" He practically screams. I can already hear the chuckles coming from the different corners of the classroom—I can almost feel it; Mr. Peter's outburst will become the source of a new meme. As if that weren't enough, he resumes the scratching of his pen on the board in a manner that suggests he's making all the noise on purpose and says casually, "You know, your brother was nothing like this."

I take a glance at Kyle sitting beside me. His teeth are clenched and his eyes narrow at Mr. Peter's back. My heart twists at his reaction to the man's words. I can't say I know how it feels to be compared to my siblings because they're both younger than me, but I've seen the same thing happen to my sister over and over again. Yet you never stood up for her. A voice in my head whispers. You knew it was wrong, and yet, you never stood up for her.

I bite the inside of my cheek and urge the voice to stop. Tension thrums through the air and I sense Kyle about to explode. I'm scared. I'm so scared for him. Mr. Peter is infamous for his extreme punishments and position in the school's hierarchy—not social, of course, but rather, his position as one of the principal's most trusted workers. One wrong word and you would be out of the school in no time.

Who is his brother anyway? He's already this amazing. How could anyone top that off? He stands up suddenly, and I'm taken aback by his boldness. I cheer for him silently; it's time someone took a stand against Mr. Peter and his derogatory comments. So it begins.

"Excuse me, Mr. Peter. But shouldn't you not be so strict on the very first day of school? Isn't the idea to let us settle in, give us a few weeks to relax before start handing out detentions and taking away marks? How can you even deduct my scores if I don't have any?"

"Roasted," John mutters under his breath. Maximus, who is also in my class this year, does a funny gesture with his hand that probably signifies the same thing John just said. Indeed, Mr. Peter has been roasted by Kyle.

Said teacher's face starts bloating. Anger begins to fill his features as he tries to make a good comeback, "Pelegrino, this is hyperfoolishness at its finest. Talking back is very rude and disrespectful. One more word from you and the detention train will make its way to your desk."

Detention train my ass, I can't help but curl my lips into a sneer as everyone watches the two of them. He didn't even bother learning his students' first name and somehow managed to receive the 'most hardworking teacher' award during last year's annual Brook High award ceremony.

Kyle barely looks like he's trying. He simply scrunches his nose up in a way that shows how annoyed he is before replying, "Sir, my name is Kyle, not Pelegrino. That's my last name. This, ironically, is an excellent exhibit of extreme hyperfoolishness from the awarder himself!"

The boy I'm staring at in wonder is another side of Kyle. My jaw drops as I witness all the pent in rage flying out of him all at once. The sweet, innocent boy with the timid face is gone-not that it's a bad thing, if you ask me. I rather like this side of him; quite a good show we're getting.

He breathes in deeply before continuing, "You know what? I'm sick of getting compared to my brother, I am my own person! What gives you the right to degrade me like that? Huh? It is so annoying having to go to school every single day knowing that I will always be in the shadow of him! You are all driving me crazy!"

It's suddenly eerily quite in the classroom. The air I'm breathing feels stuffy and the walls seem to be closing in. My heart thumps as my eyes flit over to Mr. Peter's enraged features. Time freezes over as the clock ticks.

"I can call you what I want, Pelegrino. How dare you insult me like that!" Mr. Peter doesn't take well to being insulted, obviously. We watch, helpless, as he screams at Kyle. "Leave the classroom. NOW!"

The poor kid averts his eyes and drops his head down in shame, shuffling out of the seat and towards the door. I feel frozen in spot as I watch him turn the handle; a sick sense of déjà vu washes over me and I suddenly see my sister instead of Kyle in front of me.

She's crying, tear tracks prominent on her face. My mother just had an outburst about how my sister's failing all her classes and now she's screaming, screaming about why she can't be more like me.

I can't stand by and let this happen. It's wrong. I know Mr. Peter's wrong. I can feel adrenaline thrumming through my veins as I stand up and stare straight into his eyes, unwavering. This one's for you, Henia. I prepare myself for what I'm about to say. Mr. Peter stares at me in contempt, probably thinking about how much time I'm wasting just by standing up.

"He was simply correcting you, Mr. Peter. I'm sure he had good intentions, but you completely embarrassed him. He is actually an intelligent, well-mannered student but you forced him to use his bad side." I'm glowing on the inside. I can feel Kyle's eyes burn holes through me, but I continue staring straight into Mr. Peter's beady eyes.

"Hermione," he grunts, "would you like to join Mr. Kyle outside too?"

Surprising even myself, I hear a foreign voice drawl out, "Yes, I would, as a matter of fact."

I take my place next to a boy I barely know but sacrificed my reputation for as we leave the classroom. Rather than this being a walk of shame, it's become something akin to a walk of glory. As the door closes with a squeak, I realize that we're both too proud for our own good. In the end, that's ultimately going to become the cause of our inevitable doom.

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My newfound friend looks at the hallways in disgust. I hold in a laugh and sigh instead. Emotions rush through me, crossing the thin line between love and hate; I feel so lost, so... so... good.

Is this what it feels like to be a delinquent? To have your way and scream back at the teachers when they fire comments your way, to feel the same fear and excitement pumping through your veins and filling your heart?

Now I know why they do it. If my future wasn't so at stake and the scholarship I desperately needed to get into Juilliard was this close, I would have let loose all my inhibitions and done the same thing once in a while.

The majority of this morning was spent focusing on other students; I never really got a good look at the school's condition. Something catches my eye as it glints under the scrutiny of the cheap lights that are barely holding onto thin threads.

Bile builds up in my throat as I realize spiderwebs spread across the ceiling like some sort of complex puzzle. I turn my head away, instead looking at the lockers. I'm confused. I clearly remember picking up an article of the school's newspaper and reading about how Kyle had protested against the poor conditions our lockers were in and personally requested the principal for new ones.

Shaking my head, I release a tired groan. I make the mistake of looking at my shoes and find a bloodstain positioned conveniently next to my sneakers. I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut.

The two us of slide against the wall in unison like a practiced move before he takes out a book labeled 'Short Term'. I hope he doesn't notice I'm screaming on the inside. It's my favourite book and I've even been to a fan event where I got my copy signed by the author of the story. The book is set for a film adaptation later this year.

The squeaky door swings open and I instantly look up, bracing myself for Mr. Peter's arrival. Instead, I find myself looking at none other than Grace Chui Togashi, head of the school's graphic design section.

She's Japanese: a mixture of chocolate eyes, porcelain skin and short black hair curling at the nape of her neck. What in the world? Why is she here? I know she typically likes to stay out of the limelight. This sure is a surprising turn of events.

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Author's note:

In the next chapter, we see Grace's point of view and what events occurred in the class while Hermione and Kyle were outside, and why Grace joined them after. Thanks for reading!

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