text: "I-uh- am just really happy here." What was that? The 14th lie of the week, and it's only Wednesday. I can't even talk straight to the guidance teacher. "That's good to hear, Henry." She replies, handing me a slip of paper. "As you can see here, your grades are really super, but your citizenship is quite low." I nod, knowing this is true, but not wanting to fix it. "A really good way to fix this is to participate in class more. Raising your hand, asking or answering questions. Can you do that for me?" Oh gosh. She looks like a helpless puppy dog now. Hmm...How do I say this to her? I just really can't because I somehow can't talk in front of people without sounding like an idiotic fool. "Sure, Mr.s Genning." Well, crap. I'm screwed. I freak out whenever I talk even though there is a lot of stuff happening in my mind. And by that, I mean a lot. There's a reason I have good grades. Although, I can say I am very social as well. At least, I try to be. Most people think I'm that one awkward quiet kid who wants nothing to do with people in general. The only real person who knows my personality is my English Teacher, Mr.s White. Because I can actually write out my feelings without the fact of people watching me. I mean, technically they are, but once again, they don't really care about me. I only have one friend. And she only has one friend. That's me. Her name is Saprasong. Pronounced Sap-Ra-Song. Simple, yet complicated. She came up to me one day in the hall out of the blue telling me about her mind and the adventures in it. She also told her deep and dark thoughts, some gruesome and scary, but she seemed to enjoy it. May I remind you that this was in the first seconds of meeting her. She seemed to be good enough for me, and plenty helpful with issues, not math ones though, and so we are friends. Friends by meaning we have no classes together or lunches together. So we hang after school, usually me helping her with schoolwork. She is way too busy day dreaming to focus on the real thing, and that is achieving good grades. Her typical response to me giving her my explanation on how she should work hard in school is that school is "too stressful." I find myself being annoyed with it ever since. And her obscene clothing. She always puts her dyed white hair in a two mini buns, wearing a matching skirt and shirt every single day. With different, and what she calls radical designs on them every day. I can't find why anyone would wear such headache creating colors every single day, but I'm guessing she wants to be noticed..just in some really wacky ways. Regularly in the day she tells me how she loves herself, but hates herself. A confusing mind game that I can't figure out. But girls are very weird with feelings so it makes sense. Me on the other hand is what you can call the average teenage boy, wearing the varied items of clothes such as turtle necks and button-downs. Although I am definitely not as crazy as the other boys here. An example is my hair. With most boys hair being a great comparison to a mop, my hair is more tight and slick. Something you don't see now a days. Ha. With that phrasing I'm known, and called, a forty year old man. To be honest, it's more of an insult considering I'm only 15. Saprasong likes my stuttering. Even though I know it can get annoying. My mind has great wonders and activities in it, but I just can't get it out without seeming to be ill. That's why most of the time we text on out phones complaining and talking about our absurd world we live in. Now, we don't always talk about horrible things, but we do have a strange fascination with it. I guess that's why I don't want to talk out loud in front of people. My rant will most likely end up me talking about the decomposition process. Or I'll end up stuttering again. I don't even realize when the bell rings in my fifth period. It's only when the teacher barks like a dog to get out of his class. Saprasong has somehow managed to memorize my schedule so, there she is, standing at the door when finally get up. "You look absolutely quintessential in that mighty fine coat of yours, SpaceMan. Although I must say that it is rather warm outside for a coat. Wouldn't you agree?" She comments, but rather means some constructive criticism. SpaceMan is a nickname she has been calling me ever since we met. After constantly reminding her what my real name was, she put it behind her and continuing calling me the ridiculous second option instead. "Yes, I agree. But I'm always freezing in this dang town." Saprasong is the only person I can talk to where I can hold a sentence. She something close to therapy, but not quite there. I don't think anyone could help me with my problems. "Ah, but we are known for our freezing temps, and delicious hot cocoa! Even when it really is the beginning of the school year.." She gets a lollipop out of her backpack and starts to lick it. I don't even want to comment on her obnoxious snickering as she devours the sugar pop. "I wish I could reach the stars, SpaceMan. Not actually be a someone who goes to space, but I just want to touch them. I love looking at the lights of the world, even if disaster is everywhere else. It seems the stars have more feelings then I do. And they sure are bright, and from what I've learned in my Astronomy class nothing to bad is going on up there." She mutters this slightly, more talking to herself then me. She looked up the entire time during the statement, taking deep breaths between words. She clearly misses home. Saprasong moved from Japan. I'm not really sure where, but somewhere there. She lived there her entire life, and you can tell by her fashion sense and the random Japanese she works her into her sentences. She tells me stories of times she was running in the crowded streets, not having a care in the world. How she would chase tigers and swim with dolphins. All in her mind, of course. Song hasn't gotten that much education since she moved here. With her bad grades in Japan, she really never was accepted and got home schooled after just three years in the school system. She misses the stars there, and I can tell through her drafted and wistful eyes. "Cheer up girl, my mom is bringing us pizza for lunch today." I remind her. "Ah yes, the distinct greasy flat bread of Tony's Pizza. Do you think his name is actually Tony?" She shoots off topic. "Doubt it." My honest opinion. She laughs in response, slapping her knee and winking in odd ways. "Well, well, good sir. I think we should take out leave then to lunch. And we truly should speak in this fabulous accent while pretending we are in the 1900's! People will get quite the hoot out of it!" She pretends to smoke a cigar, breathing in and out. It does almost look real with the air showing around us, due to the weather, and as she poofs the air in and out of her mouth. "I-if you say so madam!" In my eager attempt to make a long and steady speech about the 20th century, the stupid in my head catched my breath, leaving me to say a simple phrase. Oh well. "Then shall we venture to the cafeteria where many people, who we do not know if I may add, ask for the flatbread." She chuckles slightly, her voice getting deeper and deeper as she consumes and admires the accent. Which is not very good. I cut the act, offended by her English. "You do know right that the word "shall" means we will go. Your not supposed to use it when asking someone to do something. The proper way to do so is say, "We shall!" So, we shall do so." The look on her face doesn't help with anything. She's using that one "I'm mad at you but not mad at you" face. "Oh deary! I'm sorry to say but I do not understand your so called "English," and I think we should just go on out merry way!" She rushed the end, thrilled to have some "american" food. "If you say so, my dear." I grumbled, leading the way for Saprasong. Me and her ate the entire pizza. She clearly ate more than me, with the tomato sauce smeared all over her face. Plus, the four crusts that laid on her plate which I know would never be eaten. "How are you so thin?! Do you really eat like this all the time?" I ask, actually concerned. "Me and my dear mother take afternoon strolls every morning and evening." She says, still using that ridiculous British accent. "Wow, how delightful." I speak, rolling my eyes. Looking at my watch, we should be heading out very soon. "S-so, are we going to go-" But, of course, before I can even finish my sentence, Song has already started one herself. "Oh my goodness!" A bit over exaggerated there. "We absolutely need to get going before the bells start to ring!" Even more exaggerated there. I smirk though during the entire statement. I grab the grease filled box and throw it away at the nearest trash can. Which just happens to be by Cammy. In my opinion, her name should be "Clammy" cause she looks exactly like a clam. And I'm not overreacting. I think my thoughts got the better of me on this one, because it's not only when I hear the "smack!" of the bread roll smack against Saprasong's face...when I actually realize that stupid girl hit Saprasong in the face with a bread roll . Silent giggles emerge from her, and her friends who appeared out of nowhere. I watch as Saprasong picks up the bread roll, and continues to throw it back at Cammy. Expect Song wanted to add the detail of dipping the roll into ranch from Tony's. With blood running through my veins and a large amount of sweat running down my forehead, I lose control. By that I follow Saprasong's lead and throw a random item of food I pull out of the trash can by me. Me and Saprasong are laughing as loud as hyenas, looking at Cammy's face covered in the strange goo from the cafeteria's garbage pit. What me and her didn't realize though, was that the principal was literally right there. Standing by the trashcans. Monitoring. "Miss Ito and Mr. Stevens! In my office now!" The entire school get here that announcement. And he just had to use my last name so everyone could know it was me. Well, I guess they would already know as we were escorted out of the cafe. But, still. Before I really knew it, we were in her office. Saprasong sat first, breathing in the smell of the dirt carpet. I soon followed her. The principal, Mr. Craven, got straight to the point. "What happened back there guys?" She sounded calm, but clearly tense. It was then I realized I had never been in the principal's office before. Sure, I've been in here to "study" before but never have I entered this place. I was still nervous and jumpy from what just happened, and I don't think I could get through this with not stuttering in front of Mr.s Craven. "Simple and sweet, Miss Craven. Our dear friend Clam-Cammy threw a roll at us. We were just having fun. So, in return I threw it back. Almost like a game, yeah?" She was good at lying, but not good enough for Mr.s Craven. "Please call me Mr.s Craven, Song. And I don't have time for this. I'm 100% sure miss Cammy will be on the phone with her parents to get a new set of clothes and explain what happened. I've been in this bis for more then ten years, Song. I can see a lie like I can see the clouds in the sky." "B-but it j-just wasn't f-f-air what Clam-Cammy did-" Oh gosh I sound like a broken record. "I understand, Mr. Stevens. But if you are being bullied you tell a trusted adult. And no more than that." She takes a sip of her coffee. "Like a "trusted" adult would do anything. A warning, no more, just like every time me and him get bullied. Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself." Saprasong grumbled, crossing her arms. "That is an excuse, and you know it. And I feel like you are taking advantage of your disabilities, kids. Just because you have problems doesn't mean you can throw things at other kids." She licks her lips, disposing of her smug coffee stash. I can already see the anger rise in Saprasong's face. Sadly though, she is all bark and no bite. "He doesn't like it when you mention his so called "problems." She says, swaying her head in my direction. "I've heard enough. You two will be suspended for two days. Although, you will have in-school learning. Just do it on your fancy do-dads at home. You two definitely need to catch up on your grades, so this will be a chance to get away from distractions. No objections or buts. Deal?" At lunch from watching a distance away, this girl seemed nothing more than a ruler to the school. Now she is the scariest woman I have ever seen in my life. I take a big gulp and grab Saprasong's hand. She doesn't want to go, but she really doesn't have a choice. As we walk out, you can see the disappointment on her face. It was rough having to tell my mom what I did, then my mom getting my dad to teach me a lesson. Which I didn't have time to listen to. I kinda was too busy crying. It turns out Saprasong was crying too. Her mom told her she would have to do homeschooling again, and that she didn't have a choice. As we looked each other in the eyes, are sad and misty eyes I knew we both just wanted to run. Run away from life and get away from all of it. Me and her has always talked about it. Running away together. I'm not sure if she knew, but I like her. I think it was always implied, and she likes me too. Although, we didn't want it to be "that classic love story," we wanted to share each others feelings and not care about what we say. Not to the adults. Not to the historical bullies. Just to get away for one day. One day by ourselves, leaving this world behind. It's not so bad, this world. But, not that good enough for me. Or for her. There's a reason she has depression. And a reason I have Panic Disorder. Maybe the world just wants to be hard on us, but I doubt it. Maybe we are just swallowing our self pity because we want to be special. She went up to hug me, gasping for air. "You truly are the best, Oliver." She called me by my real name, so I felt like some weight of my chest had been lifted. "I feel like I-I should tell you something." I cough, sweat dripping down my neck. "I-liked you." I stutter. "Liked?" She asks, curious to explain my wording. "Well, I can't like you now. But how about we make an agreement?" I say, still hugging her. She gently gets out of the hug. "Oh yes perfect! Me and my mother do this all the time. A thing we created you see. All you have to do is shake my hand, and say these words exactly: "I, SpaceMan Stevens, will always be thinking of Saprasong Ito through my entire life. By agreeing to this, I will find Saprasong Ito, whether her name has changed or not, in the next life." I laugh, but it does seem like a promising deal. "I, SpaceMan Stevens, will always be thinking of Saprasong Ito through my entire life. By agreeing to this, I will find Saprasong Ito, whether her name has changed or not, in the next life." I propose, sinking into her memorable words. Repeating one after another. And as we part our ways when my mother get here, a final tear slides down her cheek. "I'll be Japan next time you see me, SpaceMan!" She yells. You could hear it from a mile away. "SpaceMan?" Mom whispers, grabbing my backpack. "Ha, it's a long story!" I laugh, walking out the school doors.