Chapter 3: entry #3 | ¢å¢нє
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(Y/n) waved goodbye to her tall friend as the two left the gym locker rooms and went their separate ways, the class having ended. She hoisted her backpack up and began heading for her next class, which happens to be European Literature. And that was the class she loved the most and hated at the same time.
The (h/c)-haired girl enjoyed the class when they were reading a new book or discussing it. She mildly disliked it when she was forced to move her hand. And she hated it when the noise started.
The squealing of the fangirls.
Fortuna Institute girls were an entire breed of their own. From high-maintenance heiresses to spoiled, prideful next Miss Englands, a lot of them were different from the girls (Y/n) was used to seeing back in her neighborhood. But as varying as they were, all the girls in that class had one thing in common: their adoration for two specific people in European Literature.
The first was their teacher, Mr. Howards. He was a tall, wiry and likable fellow fresh out of college. He had a mop of unruly sandy-blond hair that fell before his bluebell eyes behind a pair of rounded spectacles. Mr. Howards was kind, agreeable, and often was seen cheering on the sports team in the bleachers or laughing with the popular crowd. It made him the object of many girls' affections.
And the second was none other than...well, (Y/n) didn't know. She didn't know his name, but she knew his face, especially since he sat right next to her where she had to endure the girls' high-pitched squealing all class. And his name?
She dubbed him the abominable snowman.
The (e/c)-eyed girl had no idea what his name was since she was always sleeping, but his pure white hair and sharp golden eyes reminded her of a polar bear. Only, he didn't look fluffy enough, so she settled with a snowman.
"Class, open to Act 2 Scene 1," Mr. Howards instructed. He mimed pressing down with his hands. "Lower the volume, girls. Class is in session now." The students slowly complied, the girls reluctantly retreating to their seats from where they surrounded the teacher. (Y/n) glanced at the seat beside her; much to her surprise and joy, it was empty—
"Sorry, Charles," a voice drawled. A new figure burst through the doorway just before Mr. Howards could close it. (Y/n) stifled a groan of annoyance as the squeals restarted, now louder than before. The white-haired male threw a flirty wink at the crowd, making them let out a breathless sigh. Then to the blond teacher, "I got a little caught up back there. I'm not late, am I?" He had a subtle accent (Y/n) couldn't quite place her finger on.
Mr. Howards gave the newcomer a stern look. "For the last time, Kieran," he said. "Call me Mr. Howards and not my first name. And spend a little less time in the closet, got it?" Several girls picked up what the older male was hinting at and began giggling.
Kieran scratched the back of his neck, his smirk unfaltering as he spoke. "There won't be a next time, Howards."
The teacher sighed a waved a hand dismissively at the student. "You know what, I don't even know why I try. Take a seat." The white-haired male grinned and started for his seat, only to be stopped by a redhead in the front row who tugged on his sleeve. He lowered his head to let her whisper into his ear. Then he turned to look at her and whispered something back, before leaving. The girl flipped her hair over her shoulder victoriously as the other girls looked on with envy written across their faces.
(Y/n) continued snoring away as the golden-eyed male sat down beside her. This was another reason why she liked the class; Mr. Howards was rather lenient about her sleeping all the time compared to the other teachers.
"Hey," came a whisper. "Psst, you awake?" (Y/n) felt something poke her arm but she ignored it. The thing persisted, continuing to poke her. Annoyed, she swatted the thing away and resumed her peaceful sleep.
"Heyyy, don't ignore me," Kieran said as he poked her cheek. "(Y/n), was it? Hey, (Y/n), wake up."
Okay, that's it. The (h/c)-haired girl, all without opening her eyes or raising her head, seized her book and smacked his hand with the spine. The white-haired male drew his hand back with a startled hiss.
"The hell? That hurt!" He massaged his reddening hand. "Don't treat my golden right hand like that."
"(Then) leave (me) alone (and) shut up," she mumbled, her voice rising and dipping sleepily. "(Go) bother (someone) else..."
Kieran looked down at the sleeping girl curiously. "I'm sorry?" She had left out so many words he could only get the basic gist of what she was trying to say. "Heyyy, don't fall asleep on me again." (Y/n) ignored him and buried her face into his arms.
His surprised look faded into an amused one as he leaned his face on his hand. A moment of silence passed between the two as he seemed to be listening attentively to Mr. Howards' lesson.
"(Y/n)," he said again suddenly. "Wake up. No, for real this time. Charles wants us to work in pairs."
"Since (when do) you work?" The (h/c)-haired girl raised her head and glared at him, although there was no force in it.
His grin grew wider. "You paid attention?"
Her frown turned deeper. "How (could) I not? Your minions...(are) loud. So loud..." she trailed off as a piece of paper was placed on her desk.
"Nice to see you awake, (Y/n)," Mr. Howards said teasingly as he passed out the handouts. "Ready to do some work?"
She crinkled her nose. "Not really."
The teacher laughed good-naturedly. "Fair enough. Alright, class. I want you to choose a scene from the play and write a report on it for this project," he explained. "Then after you've done a good dissection of the lines, I want you to act it out. This will be done in pairs, so I expect you all to shoulder your own weight and assign lines and characters yourselves. Any questions?"
The redhead in the front row raised her hand. Mr. Howards nodded at her. "Yes, Neveah?"
"Can we choose our partners?" Her voice was sultry and honeyed as she gazed up at the blond.
"I'm afraid not. You'll be working with the person next to you." Neveah visibly pouted, a dejected look settled over her face. "If I let you guys choose for yourselves, there'll be no end to it. Any other questions?" He looked around. There were no more raised hands. "Alright, you have the rest of the period to start working. Get to work!"
Kieran turned to the girl beside him. "So it's you and me, eh?"
(Y/n) respectfully choked down her groan of dismay and forced a pleasant smile onto her face. "Okay, sno—um, partner. What scene should we do? I think we should do the scene right before or right when Macbeth kills Duncan. I particularly enjoyed his monologue—"
"Woah, hold up," the white-haired male interrupted. "That has to be the most I ever heard you talk. Why the sudden change of heart?"
"I want to get this over with," she said simply. "Anyway, we could also do Lady Macbeth's hallucination—"
"Aw, don't be like that," Kieran leaned closer to the girl, not missing how she pulled away. "You sure you want to spend the whole time working, koneko-chan—"
"Yes," (Y/n) interrupted flatly, shoving his face away from hers. "Please don't try to distract me or call me...whatever you just called me." We aren't even friends, she added silently as she discretely wiped her hand on her jeans.
The male let out a disheartened sigh as he watched her flip through the book. "Seems like I got an uptight one," he muttered under his breath. Then in a louder voice, "Are you seriously actually going to work?"
"Yes," the (h/c)-haired girl said again, her eyes not leaving the book. "I don't know about you, but I value my grades. If they slip, Mr. Howards won't let me sleep in class. That's a problem."
"Can't we do this some other time?" He picked up the handout and read it. "We have a week to do this. Let's start some other time."
(Y/n) set down the book and fixed a hard look on her partner. "Procrastination is not a word in my dictionary. If you don't want to do work, fine. I'll do it. But don't expect me to write your name on it later." She turned back to the play. I hate dealing with snowman here so much. Where's Reese when I need him?
Kieran stared at her incredulously. "Are you for real? This sort of thing doesn't need a full week to do."
"Oh yeah?" (Y/n) tiredly turned towards the male. "Enlighten me." A notably smug smile spread across his face as he leaned back and pointed at the book.
"You're on Act 5 Scene 1, right?" She nodded. "From the middle, 'Out, damned spot, out, I say! One. Two. Why then, 'tis time to do 't,'" he recited. "'Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeared? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power into account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?'"
He threw her a smirk. "See? I have the entire play memorized. We don't need to start so—"
(Y/n) closed the book and set it down. "Act 4 Scene 1, from line 127, Macbeth. 'Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair, thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former—filthy hags, why do you show me this?'"
"'A fourth?'" Kieran continued. "'Start, eyes! Another yet? A seventh? I'll see no more. And yet the eighth appears who bears a glass that twofold balls and treble scepters carry. Horrible sight! Now I see 'tis true, for the blood-boltered Banquo smiled upon me and points at them for his.'"
She clicked her tongue and reopened the book. "Fine. How about Act 3 Scene 2, line 155?"
"'Fleance, his son, that keeps him company, whose absence is no less material to me than is his fathers','" he answered perfectly.
The girl opened to a random page. "Act 1 Scene 3, line 152."
"'My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, shakes so my single state of man that function is smothered in surmise, and nothing is but what is not.'"
"Okay, I get it, genius," (Y/n) rolled her eyes. "Just because you memorized the whole play doesn't mean you can act it."
"I beg to differ, koneko-chan," Kieran grinned. "The drama teacher made me play the lead in Hamlet last year, and she's known to be a harsh critic."
"You have no humility," she observed.
The white-haired male chuckled and gestured towards himself. "How can I be humble when I look like this?"
She scanned him with an unimpressed look. "Like an abominable snowman?" She covered her mouth. "I wasn't supposed to say that. Please erase that from your memory. I don't want to die today." The (e/c)-eyed girl could feel the burning glares of Kieran's fangirls on her person. Hopefully, glares were all they limited themselves to.
Kieran burst out laughing, the sound startling the girl. It was pure and unrestrained, something (Y/n) wouldn't associate with a player like him. She blinked in confusion. "What's so funny?"
"I can count on one hand the number of people who dared to call me names," the male chuckled. "You're the third, and the first girl to do so."
She furrowed her brow. "Don't you get a bunch of nicknames already? How am I the first? And if there's a prize for it, I don't want it."
"I don't mean pet names," he said. "Those I have more than enough. Would you call your significant other a snowman?" She shook her head. "Exactly. Now, tell me exactly why I remind you of an abominable snowman?" He slung an arm on the back of her chair.
"It's the first thing I thought of," (Y/n) murmured. "Like how I named my pet goldfishes Blub, Pop, and Clink after the sounds they made."
"I feel so bad for your pets," Kieran chuckled. "That's some low effort naming right there. By that logic, I sound like a yeti? Me? This person?" He pointed to himself with an incredulous look. "I think you need your eyes checked, koneko-chan."
"First of all, don't call me that," she pushed his arm off her chair. "And second of all, I have 20/20 vision, thank you very much. Didn't I say not to distract me? You're doing a lot of that right now."
"Thank you, I know," he winked at him. "I'm very distracting."
"Your ego is distracting," the girl deadpanned. "It's blocking my eyes right now. Shoo, shoo." She swatted her hand at him, forcing the white-haired male to move back. "Ever heard of personal space?"
He shot her a brilliant mega-watt grin. "Nope."
"Ugh, I knew it." (Y/n) sighed and glanced at the clock. Could the period go any slower? "We have five minutes left, and we've accomplished nothing. Thanks a lot, snowman."
"Aww, you're welcome, koneko-chan," Kieran replied cheekily. "Anything for you."
"I don't even know you. Stop acting like I know you. It's strange. You're strange."
He winced and pressed a hand to his chest as if struck. "For someone who's never awake, you sure have a sharp tongue."
"How else am I supposed to tell people to shut up and let me sleep?" She pulled out her phone from her bag. "Since we did absolutely nothing today, we'll need to work out of class. What's your number?"
"Are you trying to pick me up now?" Kieran teased. "Never knew you had it in you, ko—" (Y/n) threw her book at him. "—Okay, ow! I get it! Sheesh, don't be so violent, woman." He took her phone and quickly typed in his number before handing it back. The (h/c)-haired girl took one look at the screen and the corners of her lips drew down in a frown.
Snowkums ♥ was what he had entered his name as. She immediately deleted it.
"I just gave you my number!" He cried incredulously. "Do you not want my number? How could you delete it? Are you good? No, that was a dumb question. Of course, you're not. You didn't fall for my charms so you can't be sane."
"What charms?" (Y/n) scowled. "I can't trust you with my phone, so I'll just give you my number." She scribbled a few digits on the corner of page in her notebook and tore it out. "Lose it and I'll kill you."
"You know when girls tell me not to lose their number," Kieran took the paper from her and placed it in his wallet. "It means I won them over. So why do you sound so scary saying that?"
The girl shrugged and placed her chin on the table. Then she perked up. "I forgot something important."
The golden-eyed male peered down at her curiously. "What is it?"
(Y/n) turned towards him with a serious glint in her (e/c) orbs. "What's your name again?"
"How did you not know my name all this time, (Y/n)?!" His mouth fell open. "We've been classmates for half a year now. Actually, don't answer that. You're always sleeping, that's why."
"Ah, you noticed?"
"How could I not? You sit right next to me. I know the face and name of my neighbor, unlike a certain someone." He eyed her pointedly. She looked away. "This is not the first time we've done a project together, koneko-chan. It hurts right here that you've forgotten me." He patted his chest, right above his heart.
"You might want to get that checked," she said gravely. "The elderly are more prone to all sorts of heart problems."
"I can't help what my hair color comes out as," Kieran complained. "And just because it's white doesn't mean I'm old!"
"I guess you've aged well," the girl mused, scanning the male's hair. "Barely any wrinkles at your age, eh?"
He patted his hair down self-consciously. "That's only compliment you've ever given me and I don't even want it."
"Well too bad, because it's the only one you'll ever get." She began packing up her things. "How 'bout we meet up this weekend to work on the project? Like at the library or—"
"Or at yours," the male said, winking at her suggestively. He rested his head in his arms as he grinned at the girl beside him. "But if you prefer my place instead, I'm all up for that—"
"The library it is," the (h/c)-haired girl's voice left no room for arguments. "Would noon be good for you?"
"Ignoring me now, are we?" He chuckled. "Yeah, twelve works. The library near the school?" She nodded. "Mkay, got it." Kieran rose to his feet just as the bell rang, and Mr. Howards' voice rang out, dismissing the class. "By the way, I'm Kieran. Looking forward to our date, koneko-chan~" With those parting words, he was off, disappearing into a throng of giggling girls vying for his attention.
"It's so not a date," (Y/n) growled under her breath, feeling more irritated than ever. "Gross, I stayed awake for more than twenty minutes. I'm dying." Her mood only worsened at the memory of the exchange between her and her flighty partner. 'I hope the weekend never comes,' she sighed internally. 'Can't believe I'm saying that. I love not having school...and what does ko...ko...whatever he said even mean?'
She pulled up her schedule on her phone. At least I only have one more class now. She had art last, much to her relief. It was by far her favorite class. After all, she was especially good at scantron art and sleep drawing.
The (e/c)-eyed girl arrived at the large classroom early and was delighted to see the chatter kept to a minimum and the students spread out. It was a work period rather than a lecture. (Y/n) loved her art teacher, Ms. Florence, but she never liked lessons of any kind.
The curly-haired teacher spotted the girl and a smile bloomed across her face. "Early as usual, (Y/n)," Ms. Florence chirped energetically. "How's your progress with that piece of yours?"
(Y/n) headed to the rack where the drying canvases were stored and pulled hers out. "I'm almost done," she told the amiable teacher. "I just need to touch up on a few spots and blend the colors better."
"Can I see?" She flipped the canvas around and set it on an easel, displaying it to the brunette teacher. Ms. Florence clapped her hands in approval at the patchwork of vibrant colors that danced across the canvas, blending together at some parts and standing out stark against each other in others.
"Oh, it's simply gorgeous!" Her green eyes flitted across the painting from top to bottom. "We definitely need more surrealist painters in our school. What are you going to name it?"
"Girl gets rudely woken up," (Y/n) said matter-of-factly as she nodded at the clashing blacks and reds on the painting in approval.
"A painting from personal experience, huh?" Ms. Florence laughed. "Not a bad idea. I'll leave you to it now, alright?" The girl nodded at the older woman who went to another student's side and then faced her artwork again.
'I think I need more blacks,' the (h/c)-haired girl mused. 'Nothing's wrong with adding more paint. When all goes wrong, add more black!' She began abusing the black paint jar set on the easel before her and splattering it across her canvas. From an onlooker's perspective, it might've looked like she was doing it randomly but in fact, (Y/n) had some sort of a plan.
'Maybe if I do this slowly,' (Y/n) realized, her paintbrush hovering in the air. 'Ms. Florence will allot us more "work" time, which means I can laze around this whole period and then go home! Yes, I'm so smart.' The girl grinned evilly as she began painting with the slightest of movements.
There was the sound of wood being dragged on wood as someone pulled their chair up to her. (Y/n) turned to her in surprise. "Since when were you in this class, Izzy?"
The girl shot her an incredulous look. "Do you call all purple-haired girls Isla? I don't know how many times you've called me that, (Y/n)."
The (e/c)-eyed girl smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of her neck. "Sorry, Nova. Your hair was the first thing I saw."
"It's alright, I'm used to it." Nova pulled her easel next to the other girl's. "The first time I saw that you only had a pillow on it. Now it doesn't even look like a pillow. What happened?"
"It is the cruel and unusual destruction of one's sleep," (Y/n) explained sagely. "The pillow has evolved into a whole new lifeform to survive the terror. Now it's a...um, actually, I don't know what it is. The paint moved by itself. I did nothing."
"You are an insult to all artists across the world," Nova said, although her voice was teasing. "You're doing so well but look at me! I'm stuck with an artist's block. I have no idea what to paint here." She gestured towards the blank space in the center of her canvas.
(Y/n) inspected it with blank eyes. "Put a pillow," she suggested. "Or throw some paint around. The paint will do its job."
"I'm not an abstract artist, (Y/n)," the purple-haired girl snorted. "And even if I was, I doubt just waving my brush around would do my art career any good. I'm not Pollock, sadly."
"Pollock is great. He's my favorite artist."
"Of course he is, for you at least." Nova poked her brush into the water listlessly. "If only I was like Jay, I'd be able to paint anything, anywhere."
'The bird person again,' (Y/n) realized. 'I feel like someone told me about him before. I forgot.' "Who?"
"You know, Kim Jaehyun. Son of Kim Enterprises, heir to one of the largest hospital chains in the world," Nova told the other girl while dabbing her wet paintbrush on her painting. "Part of the P4. I'm surprised you don't know him, especially since he's in our—oh gosh, this spot looks terrible—in our class."
The (h/c)-haired girl made another surprised expression. "We have a pet bird in this classroom?" She looked around. "Where, where?"
"Jay is his nickname," Nova laughed at her antics. "Since he's Korean, a lot of us British folks can't pronounce his name very well. As a French native myself, I get the feeling when a foreigner mispronounces my language. It's just...ugh. Terrible."
"I can't relate," (Y/n) has only ever lived in one country her entire life, but she still felt a little sympathetic for her friend. "I'm sorry for saying baguette and croissant around you all the time, Noves."
The purple-haired girl threw her head back as she laughed. "It's fine if it's you! You have this super gentle voice that masks your accent. Speaking of accents," she leaned closer to the other girl. "Were you born here? You don't look completely British to me."
(Y/n) shrugged as she signed her name at the bottom of her canvas in small, flowing letters. "I don't know," she admitted. "I was thrown into the system at a really young age, and my parents never told me where I came from even when I asked. I could be an alien for all I know."
"Into the sys—oh." Pity and guilt flashed over Nova's face. "I'm sorry..."
The other girl waved her apology off. "Don't be. It's not really something I hide. I never met my real parents, so I can't say I miss them. If you never had something, it's like you've never lost them in the first place."
"So you live with your foster parents now?" Nova asked. "I never see you in the dorms."
(Y/n) shook her head. "Parent, singular. Mom died of cancer a few years ago."
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry—"
"It's fine, Noves. I've already done the crying at the funeral, and dad shows me enough love to make up for the empty spot." Her face didn't change even at the mention of her mother's death. "Anyway, I don't live in the dorm because dad's afraid I might get mixed up in the drugs, partying, and all that pizzaz. Either that or I might get kidnapped or killed. Someone's been watching too much Happy Death Day." She let out an emotionless laugh.
"That's an extreme view of our dorms," Nova giggled, trying to break the subtle tension that hung in the air despite (Y/n)'s nonchalant tone. "I can vouch for you that we don't get wasted that often if you ever want to move in."
"That often? That won't be enough for my dad. He's a lawyer, and granddad's a war veteran." (Y/n) mimed shooting a gun. "If any trouble comes near me, dad's going to quote-unquote 'get yo ol' grandpa's rifle and blow his brains out.'" She made a gunshot sound effect to prove her point. "So yeah, it would only make things worse."
"My dad's the same!" Nova shook her head. "If I listen to his rules all the time, I'm still going to be single by the time I'm in my 30s! You should hear his family speeches. He's all 'no alcohol before 25, no s*x before 30, no drugs before 200, and no boys before 30.' But the last one will be impossible either way because he'll never give me his approval. Gosh, dads suck."
"At least he doesn't try to act tough all the time when he's actually really weak like mine," (Y/n) sighed melodramatically.
"Your dad sounds hilarious," the purple-haired girl giggled. "He must be pretty chill about going out with friends."
"Well, yeah. But I still get a curfew."
"Yeah? How early?"
"You mean how late. I have to be home before six, but that's okay. I need more time to sleep anyway."
Nova looked taken aback. "Six?! That's so early! Even mine is eleven, and that's saying something. I take everything back about your dad being chill. You need to protest for children's rights!"
"I'm more concerned with that fact that you view us as children than the fact you called my dad unchill," (Y/n) rolled her eyes tiredly. "Is that even a word? Unchill?"
"Add 'un' to anything and it will be a word."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Okay," (Y/n) said. "I'll unthink you, Noves."
"Wowww. Thanks a lot, (Y/n)," Nova scowled, sticking her tongue out at her friend.
The other girl gave her a thumbs up. "Np."
"Can't you say the full word instead of the text appreciation, or is that also too much energy?"
"Lol."
"Wow, okay. I see how it is."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone