Clara

I dashed across our school, running for first period. I wave to Paulina my other best friend, who was talking with Leo, her brother. She was only in two of my classes this year, but we still managed to hang out after school too. We always have, even we did have classes together. It’s been like that ever since I met her on a field trip in 3rd grade.

Paulina Demos was new in Ms. Fayman’s class, and she was all the way from South Arabia. Nobody wanted to get close to her, even though she tried to make friends.

Damien and I smiled, and we invited Paulina on the trip to the Zoo. Ever since then, we just clicked.

Damien just smiled from afar, while Paulina and I scheduled playdates and sleepovers. There are somethings that only girls understand.

The bell just rang, which shook me out of my daydreams and Mr. Tofu, my homeroom teacher, will joyfully hand out my 32nd tardy slip if I didn’t hurry.

It’s not like I want to hear his “Young lady, you are in seventh grade now. I except more than this,” speech, I just had a habit of running to school late even though San drops me off right at the early bell. I don’t even do anything until the bell rings. Just sit around and maybe daydream. Sometimes, I would eat breakfast in the small courtyard with my friends on top of a picnic blanket.

I dashed to my locker and grabbed my books for the first 3 classes. Other than that, I did my daily ritual which included landing a small kiss on my picture of my mom and dad.

My mom was my go-to person for anything, and she would listen patiently until I was done and then tell me what I would need to do, and for that, I love her to the moon and back.

My dad was my cheerleader, who always cheered on the sidelines with anything. He shared my love of food, along with my sense of humor. For that, I love him more than anybody outside my house.

For a faster way to get to class, I took the small shortcut past the nurse’s office and landed in my seat just as Mr. Tofu (his real name, I’m not kidding) called my name.

“Clarissa Lemondola,” he called out. He wore a big smile on a puffy face, as he started to write out a tardy slip. He also was known for the craziest suits, but in a bad way.

One day, Mr. Tofu came in with PJ bottoms, a football jersey, and hiking boots. He blamed it on us since our book reports were so bad, he had fallen asleep while he was reading them!

Can you believe the nerve of this guy?

“Here, Mr. T,” I said, with a sweet smile.

Mr. T gasped and turned around, where I was pretending to be working on a hard project.

He just shook his head and mumbled something under his breath.

I scanned for Damien. Normally, when Mr. Tofu lectured me on being late, if I didn’t make it in time, Damien would turn around from the pencil sharper and imitate Mr. Tofu. No matter how miserable I felt, he knew how to cheer me up. Usually, that means putting a fart bomb or a whoopee cushion on Mr. T’s chair. That’s one of the reasons he’s my best friend. Not that he does pranks, but that he knew how to cheer me up.

His desk was empty. “Huh,” I wondered. He said he would be here today. Maybe he just got sick last night, or maybe he finally convinced his parents that he was sick by making fake vomit. That never happens.

“Damien Richards,” Mr. Tofu called out.

“He’s not here, Mr. T,” I replied.

Mr. Tofu just shrugged and turned to the board. We were supposed to start the math problems on the board before attendance. I waved at Sayre, who studied with me for classes.

“Where’s Damien?” I whispered to Sayre.

Sayre shrugged her shoulders, letting her bright her red bounce up and down. “I saw him annoying Mrs. Lafayette, but after that, it’s like he disappeared.

Mr. Tofu cleared his throat, and I got back to work on the problems.

Though my mind was somewhere else.

“Mr. T? Can I get a hall pass? Girl problems,” I asked.

Mr. Tofu grumbled and scribbled a pass for me. I read it before I left. If I didn’t get back here in 15 minutes, I would be in serious trouble. Checkmate, Clara.

I stepped outside the door and whispered, “Damien, where in the world are you?”

No answer. I tried calling his name again and again. After that, I strolled around the empty school, hoping that he was in one of the rooms while staying hidden from Mrs. Lafayette and the teachers.

After 10 minutes, I started to head back, when I heard small footsteps.

I looked up to see my teacher’s head. He smiled, and directed me to principal’s office.

How does this guy hate my guts so much?

Next Chapter: Chapter 5: I Listen to the Worst Plan on the Planet, and Then Realize: it’s Actually Good