By last period my stomach was practically roaring. It was embarrassing how much it echoed in the classroom almost every time I exhaled. I couldn't help it; I was hungry.

Eating words during lunch seemed impossible when Sophie and Abigail spent their time between eating and drinking water to talk with me as if it was a competition. So there was no other choice but to endure it until I was in a secluded area. As much as I tried to, however, I couldn't ignore the sounds that emitted from within me.

Even though I wanted to focus on taking notes that I would eventually have to eat later, the only thing that I was thinking of was how delicious the knowledge of chocolate cosmos would taste when the words slipped past my mouth and down my throat. I licked my lips in anticipation while rapidly scribbling down the notes that no one would see.

Ahh, I can't wait to eat. The words that hung over me were tempting but I shouldn't be too greedy. What if my brain overloaded from eating too much knowledge? What would happen? Would I die? Now that I think about it, I never ate the words that I typed. What did that mean? Could I only eat-

"Ziva!" A sharp, impatient voice cut through my thoughts.

I straightened my posture and fixed my gaze on the woman who stood in front of me with her arms wrapped around a pile of papers.

"Is my class this boring now?" She said with a hint of a frown as she laid a blank test on my desk. "I expected more from you Miss Kritikos. You were the only one who didn't even attempt to take it. You didn't even write your name."

I glanced at my test in grief, clenching my fists in my lap. A large red bleeding zero stared back at me. I knew it was mine from the smudges of lead that was left on there from my hands. I failed, I realized when I turned to Miss Flores in disbelief. "N-no Miss Flores, I was just..." I trailed off, wincing at the glare that her brown eyes held when she looked at my notebook and test.

My notes had already vanished from the pages of my notebook, and I wasn't surprised that my carefully written answers from last week's test had disappeared as well. Pursing my lips at how this would've looked to anyone else, I sighed in defeat. There was nothing I could say to defend myself. With a trembling voice, I apologized for the crime that I didn't commit.

Miss Flores narrowed her eyes for a moment before huffing. "Try to pay more attention next time. I know you're smart, but at least act like you're learning something."

I nodded my head, keeping my eyes faced downwards. Looking her in the eyes seemed wrong to do at the moment. I couldn't while knowing how bad my grades were becoming now that writing on paper was impossible. "Yes Miss Flores."

Satisfied with my submission, she smiled sympathetically. The thick, curly black hair that fell past her small shoulders swayed when she turned around, walking to the person whose test results were under mine. Snickers of ridicule surrounded me once she left. I brushed them off, more concerned with how clouded my head was with unease. If my parents knew about this, what would they say? Would I even be able to graduate?

I took a look at the clock hanging at the top of the wall to distract myself. It was 2:40. Twenty minutes left. It felt like my heart was synced with the steady ticking of time. History class was always my worst subject. She was too slow-- we were only in the 1400's after nearly 5 months of school.

But this test was so easy... why couldn't my words obey my desires? Why did my grades have to suffer like this? I'd never gotten a failing test grade before; this was a first for me. It was frustrating, especially when I knew all of the answers off of the top of my head. Yet because of my thirst for knowledge, I wasn't allowed to express what I knew on paper.

Ugh. I grimaced, snatching the paper from the desk and tucking it in my bag.

Deciding to actually pay attention to Miss Flores' lessons, I nonchalantly focused on her words. Why couldn't she teach faster? Does she think that eighth graders are too incompetent to follow her lessons? I sighed. I had already read world history up to the World War II by that time.

It was almost insulting to hear the same things that I had studied before school started in such a dull and exhausted tone. I wanted to stand up and teach the class myself-- she wasn't giving the Medici family enough justice while speaking of the Renaissance. But of course I didn't want to embarrass her, so I pushed my impatient thoughts to the back of my mind before I could do anything rash.

I turned around to observe my surroundings instead, blocking out the teacher's unsuccessful attempt at teaching with genuine enthusiasm. The girl from art class, I think her name was Diana, was seated to my right. She intrigued me as her rich dark skin sharply contrasted with mine. Her nearly black hair was tightly spun into two braids, with yellow beads tying them at the end.

I briefly felt envy after seeing her neat handwriting stay on paper but shook my head to rid myself of negative thoughts. From what I could tell she was a quiet, caring girl who I had unfortunately never taken the time to speak with before. She didn't deserve to be the target of my frustration. I noted that I would try to talk to her later.

Turning my head further back, I spotted a mop of brown hair that rested someone's head. Curious, I lowered my eyes only to instantly turn to the front after noticing that it was Kyle glaring back at me. I still didn't understand why he thought my drawing was bad. I should ask him later, I thought. Him hating me wasn't going to affect my resolve to improve my artwork. He was right in a way-- I could've done better. Maybe it was his way of giving constructive criticism. Still, he didn't have to rip it up...

Knowing that I wouldn't get any further by trying to answer my own questions, I decided to spend the last ten minutes of class pretending to take notes and observing the teacher once again. I had enough words that were waiting to be eaten. I didn't need anymore, especially if they were on a subject that I already knew.

Miss Flores was the epitome of a comely woman; with olive toned skin that seemed to glow under the dim light of the setting sun as the rays penetrated through the windows. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail but that didn't seem to hold back the wildness of her black curls that covered her small back. Yet as naturally beautiful as she was, her personality was somewhat discourteous; especially towards the students.

Whenever someone was caught not paying attention, most of the time she would call them out with a warning. But on some days the only punishments she gave were silent gazes of disappointment and pity as time flew by. Either way we were left to feel guilty of our actions no matter how trivial they seemed in our minds. It was evident by the look of worry that possessed every student after they were scolded by her―including me.

She suddenly stopped teaching and looked down at her watch. "Oh, looks like class is almost over. I see you all are already packing up, huh. Don't forget to hand in your test corrections by Monday! Ah, John! Don't stand up until the bell ri-"

The bell rang, interrupting her speech. I sighed inwardly with relief. Listening to her drone on about what I already knew so unenthusiastically was tiring enough to make me take her less seriously than my other teachers. It seemed like she didn't enjoy what she had gone to college for, making me briefly wonder why she was there in the first place. I hurriedly gathered my things, scanning the classroom for any sign of Kyle. Luckily, the sound of his voice caught my attention. Readjusting my bag onto my shoulders, I followed him down the hallway with hesitation.

My small pale fists clutched the straps of my bag tightly when I spoke behind him. "K-Kyle!" The crumpled shreds of paper then wrapped my mind in sadness, faltering my pace. No, no, that was just criticism. It had to be, I mused and continued forward.

He lifted his head at the sound of his name and looked around until he spotted me. I called out to him once more, in case he didn't hear me. His expression darkened instantly, in contrast to the aloof one he held whilst speaking with his friend, Hikaru, who was standing by him impatiently.

Kyle looked over to him with a sigh, saying something incoherent. Hikaru seemed suspicious of my intentions when I came over, but he nodded and walked ahead. We both stood still in the middle of the crowd of students, watching anything but each other until he spoke up.

"What is it now?" He growled after we had moved out of the other students' way.

"I just... had a question," I muttered while glancing at the wall. Looking at him was incredibly difficult.

"What?"

"Um, what exactly was wrong with my drawing?" Asking now seemed ridiculous under his steady glare, but I had to if I wanted to improve.

"Oh, this again? I told you, your drawing was-"

I held my hand up gently. "I know that it was trash in your eyes, and I deeply regret not drawing you better. However," I lifted my head to look at him after wiping a stray tear away, "what can I do to make it better? I want to draw you in the best way I can, but it's pointless if you aren't satisfied with it, right?" I guess I should've been grateful that I could still draw instead of brooding over a drawing that was destroyed.

Kyle's eyes widened for a moment before returning to his infamous glower. He took a step forward when I noticed the way his hands were tightly clenched so much that a ghostly white hue possessed his knuckles. Was he angry?

"Ah, sorry if I offended you. I didn't mean to bother you, I was just curious." My lips trembled in dejection. I couldn't be content until I knew what I did wrong. "If there's nothing that I can do, then it's fine. I'll just... take the zero." That seems to be all I've been doing lately.

He took another silent step forward, making me take one back. What is he doing? I wondered. He was staring at me with unwavering intensity. Was there something on my face? I couldn't return his gaze, as I was fearful of once again seeing something that I wasn't supposed to.

Instead, my eyes darted to anywhere except the boy who stood in front of me. Whenever he took a step forward, I took one back. It was uncomfortable being so close to him when I couldn't observe his movements. Silence stood between us until he chuckled.

"You, you're really weird. How are you not mad?"

I shook my head to reject his words. "I am. But I don't hate you. I don't hate anyone."

"What? That's impossible. You don't hate any teachers? Parents? Me?"

Again, I shook my head and pushed the white strands of hair that had wandered from my kept bang. "I love my parents dearly. Though I do dislike Miss Flores's teaching methods and am confused by your contradicting behavior, I don't hate either of you."

His face had darkened at the mention of my parents and I wondered if he wasn't feeling well. "I see. If that's the case, then why did you run away at the end of Art class?"

"I figured that it would be rude of me to show myself in front of you when I had angered you moments before."

"Hmmm. Well Ziv, the only way that you can make up for it is if you don't draw me at all. Your art, it's too..." He trailed off, looking up to ponder of a right adjective. "No, nevermind. Anyways, just don't draw me."

"So there's nothing I can do? You were the one that said that I could draw it the right way before the deadline, but I can't if you refuse to tell me what was wrong with my first one! Even though it was so precious to me, you ripped it apart because you thought it was trash. Now when I ask you how to make it better, you have no answer? That doesn't make sense Kyle." My hands were shaking in frustration so I folded them together to conceal my feelings.

He raised his eyebrows mockingly and smirked. "My, my, it seems like you've caught on to my facade, Rabbit."

The bustling crowd had by then narrowed down to scatters of students who were loitering around just as we were. "Wh-what do you mean?"

He clicked his tongue, taking a step closer. "You want to know why I ripped your drawing? It's because it was too perfect. Let's see if you can make a miracle happen now," he grumbled, taking the time to scrutinize his nails.

"That doesn't-"

"Anyways, you said that you loved your parents dearly, right? That's sweet, that's sweet. Sickeningly sweet, really. You're really just too perfect-- it's annoying. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect friends, perfect li-"

I interrupted him harshly. "Nothing is universally perfect because perfect means something different for everyone. Perfection does not exist yet it does at the same time." Just like my words. The same worthless words that couldn't stay on paper.

"Please refrain from labelling my life as something if you do not know how I live," I continued. He was lucky; he didn't have to eat something that he had no control over. Suddenly realizing how rude my words were, I looked away. "I'm sorry." He didn't know how I lived, that was true; but I also didn't bother to show him.

He shook his head, eyeing me with puzzlement. "I-"

"Ziv!"

We both snapped our heads to the source of the voice. I sighed in relief at the sight of Abigail, slowly raising my arm up to catch her attention. Being the palest student in school, it wasn't a surprise that she quickly spotted me. She jogged from down the hall to reach us. I noticed that her pace faltered a little after she saw Kyle in front of me, her smile changing to a frown. When she came closer, Kyle had already put a considerable distance between us, thankfully.

She looked at us and sighed. "Kyle, what're you doing to Ziv?"

"What?!" He exclaimed, taking a step back as if he was insulted. "Nothing! She's the one that talked to me first!"

I smiled at her apologetically. "He's right Abigail. He really didn't do anything, I was just bothering him for some advice."

She narrowed her green eyes on Kyle before huffing. "Okay then. I'd better not hear anything about you bullying her, Kyle. I have my sources." With that, she took my hand and dragged me away.

"Ah, tell me if you think of anything!" I blurted out in an attempt to remind him of why I called him in the first place.

He turned away, muttering something that I couldn't hear.

"Come now Ziv," Abigail then said, "Sophie's waiting for us outside."

"Eh? But, I have something to do...!" I had to eat some words. If I didn't, then I was afraid that I would pass out again.

"Is it detention?"

"No...?" She knew that I had never gotten a detention. Though, that record might break soon.

She placed her index finger over her chin and hummed for a moment before smiling. "Then you can do it later, right?"

I stared at her with my mouth hanging agape at her boldness. How could I explain that I was furiously hungry and that I didn't want to 'eat' in front of them? My eyes scanned the hallway in search of a reason to escape her clutches. "But, I want to eat!"

"You can eat later, now c'mon! We're going to a buffet." She pulled my arm with urgency, making me worried. I flailed my arms around to try and wriggle myself from her arm, but it was no use. "It's also a way to make up for me forgetting your birthday. My bad."

"No, no, it's alright. You just forgot. But I kind of want to spend it with my parents, y'know?"

"That's understandable. But it'll only be a little bit! Just, eat some sweets at least?"

I softly shook my head. "I don't want to see anymore food! No more cakes, no more bread, no more..." My thoughts wandered to the macarons and chocolates that rested in my bag. I couldn't eat those anymore, huh. Even though they wanted to give them to me, it seemed like a waste now.

She then stopped moving. "Ziv? What's wrong with you lately? You've been acting kinda weird."

"D-don't mind me. I'm just a little queasy from all of the food that I ate last night."

"But you've been like this for weeks."

I looked up at her, surprised to see her green eyes glistening with oncoming tears. "Abi... I promise, I'll tell you everything when I have more of a understanding. Just, try not to worry about me."

She crossed her arms over her shoulders defiantly. "You can't expect me not to worry, Ziv. I never see you eat as much anymore and your stomach's always hurting..." She trailed off, looking over to Kyle then back at me. "Don't tell me you're preg-"

Realizing what she was thinking, I sealed her mouth with my hands as my cheeks flushed a scarlet that might've been deeper than her ginger hair. "No, no, no! It's nothing of the sort! I would never perform in sexual activities!"

"Whoa there, Ziv. Calm down." She chuckled, patting my head gently after I removed my hands from her face. "You're too pure hearted for that kinda thing anyways."

I had no comment, instead deciding to fumble with some loose string from my sweater. She laughed before looking towards the door. "Well, whatever it is, try not to keep us waiting too long."

I nodded. "Of course." But I would have to tell my parents first. Guh, I didn't think I would anytime soon. But it was inevitable-- they would question me eventually. I glanced above me, surprised to see my words not there. Looking back to Abigail, I was alarmed to see them hovering around her. I swiftly backed away, afraid to taint her with my words. They were too close, and I didn't know what would happen if they touched other people.

"Ziv?" She looked at me strangely. Oh no, did she see my words?

"I'm good. I just saw an... insect. Anyways, I'm going to go now. Bye!" With that, I turned to the door and sprinted forward. My heart had begun to pump furiously against my ribcage at the thought of my words being seen. I didn't want to scare them, but I didn't want to lie either. This was becoming tiring. Alas, I had no other choice but to seal away my worries for I would've hated to be ridiculed for something that I had no power over.

Pushing the heavy door open, I took a moment to breathe in the fresh air before tugging my scarf and shivering. Taking a quick survey of the area, I was glad to see that there weren't many people. That meant that I could sneak to the back of the school with no problem. It seemed like a convenient place to go because no one ever went there, except me to help the gardener. I swallowed down my fear and headed there.

The darkness that blanketed the vast garden reminded me of just how huge our school really was. My beloved bigleaf hydrangea, the white bell flowers that seemed to glow under the moonlight, the tulips that only peeked out during the spring, all of it was so calming and quiet.

I fell into the field and sighed, breathing in the wonderful fragrance of nature. This was my oasis. My words were steadily floating above me, tumbling over each other in an attempt to become my first 'meal.' I let out a chuckle at their simplicity before reaching up to brush against the words that I had been waiting to eat the most. It drifted towards me when I opened my mouth. I was so hungry, and eating the dark cosmos in a garden seemed perfect.

The chocolate cosmos were finally beginning to sink into my stomach. The nearly extinct flower that dyed the plains of Mexico a dark auburn smelled lightly of vanillin-- it had a sweet flavor. Why did this taste different than the other words? Was it because I studied botany last summer? I remembere the flower being one of the first plants I studied during my free time.

The words filled me with the memories of it's existence that could only be found in Mexico-- how the flower was used for herbs and traveled by ship to foreign countries. Since the 19th century however, only one infertile flower remained. How unfortunate.

Once my senses began to settle down and my mind wasn't overflowing with chocolate cosmos, I let out a sigh, breathing in the sweet scent of the richly colored garden once more. I was able to relax now that I finally ate after hours without 'food.' This was the perfect place to eat after everyone else went home. No loud voices, no botherances, and no suffocating air.

However, would I have to hide in isolation every time I ate words? What was the point of doing so if they were unnoticeable? Ah, probably because I didn't want to show them my suffering. Eating their food was a horrible experience. Now that I could only eat words, I would rather avoid eating anything else.

Suddenly my thoughts drifted to the crumpled test that was stuffed in my back. What was the point of going to school if I couldn't even earn a proper grade? I shook my head, dismissing my bitter negativity. No, I have to graduate. I won't give up yet.

Even if my words are worthless.