When it comes to taking about life, people explain it in three ways. The first one would be stating words long enough to write an essay. Second would be one word and they would be on their way, sometimes adding on "is life" if they feel like it. And lastly, the third and final one where I belong in; that life just happens. It isn't like you have any say on what would happen to you in the future. Yeah, you can have the dream job, but you can also have an accident that is the epitome of bad luck.
The only thing you can do is hope that every decision you make wouldn't bite you in the ass the next day. Mistakes are a natural occurrence, as they are an effect from things simply not going your way from a decision that didn't work out as you wanted to. You can't turn back time and prevent it from happening, and just leave it be. Regrets from your mistakes are expected, yet unexpected at the same time.
I sigh at look at my desk, the glaring red marks in full view. It was only a fifty point quiz, and ten mistakes is something to be proud of. I can analyze where I did wrong and apply it in my review plan for the final exams. At least that's what I should be thinking.
It was the complete opposite.
"What score did you get? though of course you definitely have a perfect score… as expected of my friend—" Caleb stops short in his statement once he finally had a look at my paper, "—oh…"
"I'll be off then, see you tomorrow."
"Hey—"
I was out of the classroom before I could hear what he said next.
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A boy was sitting excitedly, bouncing from heel to heel as he was holding what it seems to be like a collection of papers. He was sitting at the sofa as he patiently waited. He had a giddy smile on his face as he couldn't wait to show off his test scores to his parents. Like always, they would be so proud of him!
Both of his parents approached him, his father fetching his mother from work. They shared a knowing look and smiled warmly at their child.
"Hey sweetheart, how's school today?" His mother spoke, all warm and gentle. "What do you have there?"
He proudly presented the collection of papers, and his father received it with a small, amused laugh. Her mother peered at the papers beside him. It was a familiar exam sheet, with answers already marked by his teachers. They scan the first, then the next, until they stopped on the last one.
"I got back the results from my tests! I got perfect scores for all of them…" The child sheepishly scratched his head and looked down. "Though in Math I got 12 mistakes… I got confused at the directions and answered carelessly…I promise that I wouldn't do it again…"
He raised his head and stared at them expectedly—
before dropping it into a confused frown.
His father looked satisfied, though the child noticed that a hint of nervousness. Is there something wrong? Why didn't he smile? Did he have a bad day at work? He wanted to ask the reason why, when a hand shoved him towards their direction. Stumbling a little because of the force, he was about to complain but quickly froze in fear as he stared at the person who: her mother.
She had calm, almost eerie, expression on her face. Her usual loving gaze was replaced with a cold, angry glare.
"Mom, why—"
"Why do you have a low score in Math? You studied for this, did you not? Did you get too excited of resting that you forgot to prioritize your grades? I've told you countless of times to be careful with the directions! I told you so why—"
His father placed a hand on her shoulder, and they stared at each other in silent communication. In the end, she sighed in defeat and softening her tone, she whispered. "I want you to listen to me next time, I expect that you have full marks for all subjects next time, okay?"
The child, eyes fully blown, nodded. "Yes, I promise to do better next time."
"And you will," She smiled and patted his cheek, "because you are my son."
His father clapped his hands together, making the mother and child turn to him. He smiled at the mother, head leaning towards the kitchen's direction.
"Shall we go prepare for dinner, love?"
She nodded and back was the caring mother that the child knew and loved.
"You're a good boy, aren't you Malcolm?"
Yes, the caring mother that the child knew and loved… but never the same again.
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"Hello? Universe to cute boy?"
My ears perk up at the stranger's voice and I lift my head to find its owner. I didn't have a hard time, as she was already standing in front of me the whole time. Her, and that damned smile again.
Before I could stop myself, I mutter in annoyance. "You again?"
To my dismay, her annoying smile widened. Sitting in front of me with her legs crossed, she placed a hand on her cheek as she tried to stare at me. I expertly dodge that by lowering my head onto my knees once more, the darkness becoming my only witness. I could hear her sigh a little in frustration, and I silently prayed for the universe for her to leave me alone in peace.
Except that prayer was unheard.
And apparently, the universe was deaf, as the sides of my head were being forcefully pulled up.
"It hurts— Hey!— what are you doing—"
And I have now experienced the closest proximity I have ever been with another person.
And that said person is also the one who shoved her face close to mine a few days ago.
I am now 100% percent sure that this girl has no sense of personal space. But, at least someone must have taught her the boundaries that needed to be respected, especially in dealing with people she isn't familiar with. And by people she isn't familiar with, I mean me.
"You're too—"
"I want to tell you a story," She inched closer to my face, and with just a little nudge our noses might touch. "Would you like to hear it, cute boy?"