I walked through the school gate. Before I could even steady my footing, I got bumped by a chubby kid. I swear I just saw him looking at something he definitely shouldn’t be looking at at his age—head down, glued to his phone while walking. He drifted around like he was gambling with his life, bumping into people and still looking confused. Honestly, I almost wanted to snatch his phone and smash it on the ground. If you can’t look where you’re going, maybe just don’t go out. Stay home. Lie down. Grab your chips, kid.
I can call him a kid. I’m actually much older than him, even if I’m technically the same age as a middle schooler right now. I have memories from a past life. That should count for something, right? Sounds impressive, but it’s mostly useless. I only remember fragments. At best, I get this vague sense of déjà vu in certain moments, which just makes me seem more out of place than everyone else. Thankfully, I figured this out when I was one.
And seriously, it’s only six in the morning. There’s no need to get to school earlier than me. I didn’t think someone with that kind of body would wake up that early. Is this some diet method I’ve never heard of? Then again, I don’t need to lose weight. I’m not fat. I don’t need to know, right?
The moment I got to the classroom (there’s always this indescribable stench lingering here), I paused at the door for a second, seriously considering turning around and pretending I was never here today. But reason, annoyingly, reminded me that this is where I have to stay for the next few hours. So I went in, enduring it, and pushed all the windows open, hoping this place was still salvageable.
There was still a long time before morning study, so I wandered around the campus. My favorite spot is a secluded pond. There are fish in it. Exciting, right? In a place without cameras, you can take a stick and slice open their dark bellies, one by one. Heh.
After wandering for a while, I went back to the classroom. It was about time. Cleaning duty—the same routine we go through every day. When I pushed the door open, there were more people than before, but the air hadn’t improved at all. If anything, it had gotten more complicated. I glanced at the duty roster next to the blackboard. Same names. No surprises. I picked up a broom and stood in my assigned area. The dust and debris on the floor seemed to regenerate every day. No matter how much you sweep, it never ends. The people next to me chatted while sweeping, nothing worth listening to. I just mechanically pushed the trash in one direction until someone said we were done. Then I put the broom back and ended that meaningless, unavoidable chore.
Then came a string of dull classes. The content was basically the same as yesterday, the day before, and every day before that—just repeated at a different time. During one of Zebra’s classes, Wu Ziyan started acting like an idiot again (I’d bet that rotten, stinking milk was his too). When the teacher turned around to write on the board, he mimicked her tone under his breath, then cracked up before anyone else could react, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. Hard for the people around him to pretend they didn’t notice.
The scouting teacher—we all call her Zebra because she wears stripes every day. Boring. I wonder if I was this childish in my past life. I don’t go as far as giving people nicknames like they do, but I genuinely hate her class. Her voice has no variation at all. It’s like the sloth from Zootopia, just speaking slightly faster. Maybe she knows she’s hypnotic and just doesn’t care. Maybe she’s training our willpower or something. One day I might generously pay for her to take a speaking class. Not happening.
“Noah, come up and tie the knot we just learned.”
Damn zebra.
I tried once. Then again. Same result.
And now here I am—standing here with the rope in my hands, everyone else sitting and watching like it’s a show. The atmosphere is too calm, like this situation is completely reasonable. As for being made to stand as punishment, honestly, there’s nothing to be mad about. It just confirms one thing: this class is, in fact, a waste of time.
Finally, school’s over. Today is April 30. That means I won’t have to see those idiots for three days. Labor Day, I love you. At least time itself feels normal again. I was just thinking that, even noticing how strangely quiet the day felt—like the pause before a storm. Of course, the next second, that sense of wrongness shattered.
The two school bullies appeared right in front of me.
Not just passing by—this was the classic “blocking the exit” kind of appearance. Perfect positioning, like it was calculated in advance. One on each side, their presence so strong it made the air feel heavier. The students around us naturally started taking detours, like some unspoken agreement. I paused, quickly assessing routes and levels of trouble.
Conclusion: looks like my luck hasn’t been dismissed for the day.
“Hey! Knot guy, weren’t you great at tying knots today?” one of them said, tone dripping with provocation. “Come on, give us a live demonstration.”
I think his name is Adrian. Not that I care. Right now, I’d love to take a rope and hang him with it. But given the situation, that’s not happening—the teacher is walking up behind them.
I forced a smile and said, “Do we have to do this now?”
I won’t go into the details. They got caught red-handed—leaving bruises on my face—and poor me had to walk home alone. So sad. Just kidding. I never put myself in the weaker position. But this time, I realized getting hit a few times didn’t really matter.
If anything, it was a little exciting.
ns216.73.216.98da2
and then Add to home screen.