Part 2:

I am still left thinking on the bench about my decisions on the meteor matter and have completely lost track of the time. The cafeteria is near empty and soon I’ll be the only soul in sight. That damn meteor is bothersome though, soon I’ll be confronted by my Science teacher, Ms. Bregum, and oh boy she’s known for giving such earfuls to us, especially me. 

Oh well, I best get going before I-

“JOSEPH RAJANG!” a strong yet raspy and agitating voice echoes behind me.

“Great… Just as I am about to stand up.” I mutter.

I turn my head toward the source of the bellowing call to see who it is: Mr. Cranmore, my English teacher. His orange lumberjack beard, bushy dwarvish eyebrows, bald head and beer belly made him identifiable from such long distances. It only took my periphery to know it was him. Despite my somewhat vulgar way of describing him, he’s actually one of the nicer teachers around here if not the nicest… Damn, now I kinda feel bad.

“What’re you sitting around here for?! Class started three minutes ago!” He shouts.

“Huh? Three minutes ago?” I say.

He blinks at me dishearteningly, “Don’t tell me you lost track of time, again.”

“It seems I did, sorry about that, I have a lot on my mind recently. That’s all.” I reply.

“You always have a lot on your mind… Oh no matter, I’ll just write this off as unseen. Three minutes isn’t all that late. Just hurry into class now.” He says.

“Heh, you mean it?”

He sighs, “Yes. I mean it.”

“Heh, thanks Chie-”

“Just don’t call me Chief!” He says angrily.

Chief is his first name, that’s why he reacts so viciously when I mention it. Although it has become tradition at this point that I call him Chief ever so often and even if I try to fight it, it always finds a way to slip out of my tongue.

Sorry Chief… heh.

“Okay okay… I’ll go now.” 

I pick up my black branded duffle bag and carry it over my shoulder as I proceed down the hallways to get to the labs, where my Science class is. On my way to class however, I find myself caught in my head again. That damn meteor… why won’t it leave me just for a few minutes. I’m already late for class but if I’m too distracted to even pay attention then- I’m pretty much screwed. 

I shake my head violently to throw off the thought. I get a bit nauseous but that should keep it at bay for the meantime.

As I close in on the entrance of my lab, the door opens outwards into my face, slamming it and once again adding more injury to my formerly bleeding nose. Why do the doors in this specific hallway even open outwards?! You’re only adding onto the list of fatal flaws this school already has! No matter. I check to see who the person with the audacity to slam the door into me is, unsurprisingly, it’s Ms. Bregum herself. Small, Grey and impatient for her retirement. Even though I get earfuls from her very frequently, this action of hers hurt me on a new level.

“Where were you, Joseph?! You’re five minutes late!” She exclaims.

“Not even an apology, Ms. Bregum? Gee, no wonder you’re still single…” I mutter those last few words.

“Excuse me?!” she says, implying that I should repeat my last sentence.

“Nothing. So what’s my punishment for being so late?” I say.

“Well, the whole class is already up and working with their experiments but since you’ve chosen a topic so vague, I assume you don’t have anything to work on, no?”

“Well yeah… about that- I umm-”

“Your nose is bleeding.” she suddenly points out.

“Huh? It is?” I say.

“Yes, profusely.”

“Gee, I wonder why…” I mutter again, covering my nose with my black padded jacket sleeve..

“Get yourself cleaned up before you enter my lab.”

She pulls the door closed, almost catching and pinning my fingers along with it as well. Good thing I managed to pull them away in time just before that happened. Welp, I guess it’s off to the restrooms then. If that hag would’ve been a bit less reckless, then maybe I would’ve at least had the chance to recollect and rewrite my meteor notes, y’know, without a bleeding nose.

Damnit Drake… 

I open up, enter the male bathroom and proceed to walk up towards the nearest sink to rinse and wash my face. 

The male bathroom is still a mess as always, though ‘mess’ is an understatement; writings on the wall, inappropriate drawings on the stall doors and a broken urinal that has been rumoured to have been sticking around since last year, no kidding. I’d like to think that our caretaker around here doesn’t give two craps about the state of our bathrooms, either that, or they’re understaffed… most likely the latter.

As I finish washing up my face, I look up to the mirror and lock eyes with my reflection. My long jet-black hair that covers my ears and nape, and my dark brown-ish eyes that blend well with the night sky. My black padded jacket with a red zipper, zipped up with one part of my right sleeve showing a subtle but noticeable darker streak, which is the blood that I wiped from my nose. 

My gaze remains locked onto my reflection, noticing something that has always been a part of me, something neither mom nor dad had. 

My eyes are kinda shaped differently, shaped sharper. However, mom always called it those eyes that were filled with determination and courage, the ‘Hero’s Eyes’. 

…

I’m no hero, I’m just really stubborn.