Unlucky

A loud shout from the front door echoed through my house as I closed it behind me, leaning against it and sighing deeply. My lungs were still filled with smoke as I inhaled, causing me to cough. 

My mother approached me, and the sound of her heels stepping against the smooth wooden floor could be heard throughout the silent room. 

She stopped before me, looming over me as she examined me. Without a word, she grabbed my hoodie, yanked it closer to her face, and sniffed it before pushing me away. My back hit the large front door, and her face scrunched up. She looked at me with disgust. 

"You smell like cigarette ash and smoke." She scoffed. 

"Yeah, no shit," I muttered, looking off to the side, burying my hands deep into my pockets. 

She let out a frustrated sigh before speaking once more. "I don't know what we're gonna do with you, Boe. Low grades, skipping class, or just not going to school at all, and all you do is sit in your room and waste time." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.

I didn't say anything but just stared off to the side, trying to ignore her words. She didn't know anything, never asked, and never cared.

Her gaze never left me. She just pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes briefly. "I expect you to be dressed and ready tomorrow for school. Don't make the driver wait for you." Her voice was stern and clear.

She turned to walk away, the sound of her heels getting quieter and quieter as she left the room. I watched her leave before just sighing and rubbing my face with both of my hands.

I pushed myself off of the front door, heading towards my room. 'Whatever it's just a day or two…it's not impossible to avoid them.' 

I shook my head and opened the door to my room, walking in and closing it behind me. I changed out of my smoke-filled clothes and into my pajamas, lying down on my bed. I cuddled my blanket, staring at the wall next to me, my anxiety creeping up as I thought about the next day. 

Letting out a shaky sigh, holding onto my blanket tighter and struggling to keep my tears in. But before I knew it, I was crying myself to sleep.

—

The sound of my spoon hitting the bowl of cereal can be the only thing heard in the empty dining room. My eyes stared at the bowl before me, puffy and tired. It wasn't uncommon for me to be this way every morning, eating alone and rarely ever seeing my parents in the same room as me.

I didn't mind. The bickering and the arguments we usually have, so early in the morning? A real mood killer for sure. I'm fine on my own, having company is just…annoying.

I let out a soft sigh, leaving my spoon in the now-empty bowl. I left the dining room, wiping my eyes as I walked towards the front door, I lifted my head and looked at the couch my backpack placed neatly on it. Without a second thought, I grabbed it and swung it over my shoulder. 

'Fucken hell, my head hurts..' I whisper to myself like I have no clue why. 

The night before was filled with tears and cigarettes right after. Of course, my fucking head would hurt the morning after.

—

The driver dropped me off in front of the school, my face filled with worry and anxiety as I looked out of the window before I was snapped out of it by the driver's voice. 

"Have a good day, Boe." His voice was calm and collected.

I just turned to look at him with a surprised expression before turning away, muttering out a 'thank you..' and quickly getting out of the car.

The cool morning air hit my face when I stepped out of the car, the school building looming before me. 

I tugged at the sleeves of my hoodie, taking a deep breath. My anxiety hadn't settled since last night, and standing in front of the entrance didn't make it any better. The students passing by barely spared me a glance, too caught up in their conversations.

I pushed through the main doors of the school, the sound of the hallway bustling with activity almost too much for me to handle. Students laughed, chatted, and shoved past me, all of them talking about things I couldn't care less about. 

A few whispered, but it wasn't enough for me to make sense of. It was the way their eyes flicked towards me, the way they paused their conversations just for a second too long. I could feel it, eyes on me, like they were talking about me, or at least something that involved me. 

I turned the corner to my classroom, hoping to just make it through the day. The whispers seemed to fade as I stepped closer, but the weight of their stares didn't go away. I didn't know what it was this time, but something had changed. 

The door to the classroom opened, and I hesitated for a moment before walking inside. As I stepped in, the familiar scent of dry-erase markers hit me, and the hum of voices made my skin crawl. 

I quickly found an empty desk near the back and slipped into it without a word. The classroom was already filled with students talking about their weekends or the homework they had not done. 

I dropped my backpack on the floor and opened my notebook, the feeling of being watched lingering in the back of my mind. 

I couldn't help but feel a strange, almost tangible tension in the air. As I settled into my seat, a few heads turned my way, and the whispers continued just under the hum of the classroom noise. It wasn't anything new, but today, it felt…different. The students weren't even trying to hide their curiosity anymore. Their eyes darted back to me when they thought I wasn't looking. 

I glanced up just as Mr. Everett started speaking, his voice smooth and steady. As usual, he was talking about grades. His gaze swept over the class, landing on me for a split second before he moved on.

"...for those of you struggling with your grades," Mr. Everett continued, his tone even. "If your grades are falling below a certain point, I will be offering after-school tutoring sessions starting this week. These will be mandatory for some of you. I expect full participation." 

He didn't say my name, but the look he gave me made it clear. There was no mistaking it. I'd been slipping in my assignments, my grades tanking because I hadn't bothered to do my homework. 

Mr. Everett moved on, but my thoughts were already elsewhere, still lingering on the weight of his words—the tutoring. 

I barely caught the next few minutes of class, my mind buzzing with a mix of frustration and dread. Those words made me feel irritated, staying longer at school wasn't something I wanted to do, nor listen to someone teach me something I already knew. If only I did my homework…

Mr. Everett's voice echoed, snapping me out of my thoughts. I blinked and continued listening to him, trying my hardest not to space out again.

—

The bell rang, echoing through the hallway and classroom. The classroom began to empty, students packing up their things and heading towards the door. I got up and grabbed my bag, packing my stuff in a daze. But before I could head out the door, I heard Mr. Everett call out to me. 

"Hold on a second, Boe." His voice was soft yet stern. "I have to talk to you for a second." I turned my head slightly, glancing over my shoulder. I saw Mr. Everett had stopped another guy as well. 

I fully turned around and walked back toward the front of the room. "Yes..?" I asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Mr. Everett gave me a tight smile. "I need to talk to you both about the upcoming tutoring sessions," he said, glancing at Victor briefly before meeting my eyes. "Boe, your grades are low due to missing assignments. However, the policy still applies. You'll be attending tutoring sessions." 

I try not to roll my eyes or let out a frustrated sigh as I hear Mr. Everett's words. 

Fuck me.

Then Mr. Everett turned to Victor. "And Victor, you'll be his tutor." 

The silence stretched for a second too long.

Victor's grip on his bag strap tightened, but he forced a polite nod. "Of course, Mr. Everett." 

I squinted at him. Something about his voice sounded…off, like he was keeping his cool on the surface but screaming internally. 

Mr. Everett nodded in satisfaction. "You two will arrange your schedule. Sessions start this week. Understood?"

We both mumbled some form of agreement before walking out of the classroom. 

The second we were in the hallway, Victor picked up his pace, his jaw tense. He didn't look at me. 

I watched him for a second, confused.

"Dude, what's your deal?" 

Victor stopped. He inhaled slowly like he was preparing himself for a deep, meaningful conversation. Then, finally, he turned around to face me, his face eerily calm. 

"You really don't remember me, do you?" 

I blinked. "Am I supposed to?" I tilted my head and crossed my arms.

His jaw clenched. "The flower shop." 

I stared at him. 

"...The what?"

His eye twitched.

"The flower shop," he repeated, slower, like I was some kind of idiot. 

Still, nothing clicked. 

"You crashed into me," he hissed. "Dirtied my uniform. Talked back to me. And you just—forgot?"

Then, slowly, the memory started piecing itself together. 

Oh.

OH. 

The guy from the flower shop.

I had barely looked at his face back then, but now that I was staring right at him… Yeah. Same sharp gaze, same neat hair, same annoying perfectionist vibe. 

Huh.

I scratched the back of my head. "I mean… you kinda look familiar?" 

Victor stared.

I shrugged. "But, like, I see a lot of people, so—" 

His entire body twitched. 

"You are unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face like he was about to have a mental breakdown. 

Then, without another word, he turned around and stomped off, each step radiating pure frustration.

I watched him go, blinking. 

"Jerk." I huffed, not even whispering or lowering my voice.