Last night, I did the worst thing I could have ever done, when it came to Itra’s assignment. I procrastinated. Once I got home, the first thing I did was work on my daily journal-like work. Then, when I finished, I proceeded to go on with my day, eating dinner, returning to the recounting document, then getting ready for bed. My foolish brain forgot about the task I needed to do.

Because of my blunder, I had to scramble throughout the school day, desperately trying to get those five paragraphs done. Luckily for me, no distractions broke my concentration on my assignment, except for the occasional teacher asking a question. Harry Ballman, though, my greatest worry, would still meet me at lunch. Of all the distractions I could have received during the day, Harry sat among the biggest of them.

Finishing up the second paragraph, I sighed. Even though I wrote two paragraphs, I would still need to check over them. Since Itra complimented the one I had made in the park, I felt a need to follow up with paragraphs with the same level of skill.

Currently, my first paragraph stated: “In the starry sky, only one gave us the necessary position needed for us sailors to find our way. Though the many stars may act to drown out its light, a set of them act together in the effort to make our guiding star more noticeable. Because of its help, our guiding star will never be forgotten.”

I didn’t feel so confident about my first paragraph, and most of the ideas came from the fact that I sat through history class while working on it. The second paragraph came with me from history and into math, but my setting did not play as big a role as the last one.

“For every second that passes, a mistake is made. Each and every day, mistakes happen all the time, yet still, I continue to press myself for even the smallest of my blunders. Again and again, like the waves that crash on the shore, I put myself down for my follies. Now, it’s time for me to put myself up for my successes.” Is what my second paragraph said.

Next, I worked on my third paragraph. As I wondered what to base it on, a friend of mine came up to me. My biggest distraction, Harry, slid on his shoes over to me. Or, well, he tried to slide, but the friction from his shoes caused them to just squeak. So, Harry squeaked over to me, as he attempted to slide over and over again. I gained a ridiculous need to slam my head on a table.

On his sixth squeak, Harry gave up, seeing me in front of him, and instead began to speak, “Watcha workin’ on there?” Harry inquired, “Another one of your stories?”

“Sort of,” I responded while closing the laptop, “I’m doing an assignment.”

“Oh, homework? That sucks,” Harry responded, “Ready to get to lunch?”

Sighing, I slid my laptop into my bag, then answered, “Not really, just go on without me, I’ll meet you there.”

“Roger that!” Harry saluted, then rushed over to the school cafeteria.

Enthusiasm and bad manners were the two main things that made up Harry’s core. Usually, I could deal with his eccentricities, but since I had to complete the assignment for Itra, Harry only served as a distraction to me.

Instead of the vast world of the imaginary reality, all I had in my head now was how to deal with Harry. Sometimes he served as a great supporter, but he also served as the embodiment of a writing block.

A line from my father came to me, “Whenever you’re stuck, do what you’re most passionate about.” I always thought of that advice as being good, but he also did what he was passionate about...gambling. Now, he’s missing, and we’re trapped in the debt he racked up.

Still, the line began to inspire something within me. Passion, the intense feeling of dedication to something. Or, at least, I think that’s the definition. Anyways, if I could grab something I felt passionate about, then I might be able to overcome Harry, the embodiment of getting me stuck.

Then, an idea popped into my head. If I can’t stop thinking about how to deal with Harry, why don’t I just write about that? That way, Harry would stop serving as a writing block, but instead as an inspiration. A quiet cackle came from my own mouth. Such an idea would serve me well.

Making my way down the halls of Taireah High School, I stared at the tall lockers. They were very plain, but the items inside of them were bound to hold many secret treasures. I don’t mean treasures as in jewelry, but of simple items people hold dear to themselves. Things like those always had a good story behind them, and just thinking about them makes my head spin with ideas.

One of the spinning ideas included the one that came up before I departed from my math classroom. Now, I headed off to lunch, the halfway point of the school day, with the determination to write about Harry. There were many points to talk about when it came to him, but I had an even better idea.

Rather than reviewing the traits of Harry from an outside point of view, I can have him talk about himself. Harry loved talking about his day, and that also meant that he liked himself. With his self love, he would be more than willing to go on a rant about himself. All I would have to do is take what he says and type it up with my amateurish grammar skills. If I proved lucky, Harry would rattle on long enough to give me enough topics for my other two paragraphs as well.

“Illate, over here!” Harry called out to me, “Come and sit!”

Begrudgingly, I made my way over to Harry. I didn’t even get my lunch yet, but leaving my backpack at the table would be the popular move. That way, I wouldn’t need to bring my bag into the serving area.

“Watch my stuff for me,” I requested, “I’m going to get some food.”

“I gotcha,” Harry responded, making sure to keep his eyes on my stuff.

Now alone, I stood in line to get my lunch. The line stretched on for a long while, so I decided to think of the paragraphs to occupy my brain. In the emergency case of Harry not providing me with topics to last three paragraphs, I decided to think of a paragraph long story as I waited to receive my meal.

My head still revolved around Harry being a nusciance, so I decided that I’d write about a nutjob. I meant that as an insult to Harry, that’s right. Of course, he’s not so bad, again, he’s kind. But I held a grudge against him invading my head space, so I thought of different ways to convey the idea of insanity.

One such version would be Einstein’s perspective, the one where it’s doing the same thing over and over again, or that’s what I remember it being. My brain never had the ability to focus completely on one thing, so keeping tabs on one quote felt nearly impossible for me.

“Hey,” a voice sounded behind me, interrupting my thought process, “could I cut in front of you? Thanks.”

A girl standing a head shorter than me placed herself in front of me. Immediately, three others who hung very close to the initial cutter, followed with her, also getting in my way. Judging from the tone of the first girl’s tone, she didn’t phrase her question as much of a question, instead, she did so without expecting an answer.

Behind me, I heard groans, and inside, I felt a jolt of fear. This too gave me a new idea for a paragraph. Of course, it went along with the idea of insanity, which helped to give me variety on the one topic. An example of an insanity would be extreme cases of fear, and dealing with stress in unconventional ways. I sure didn’t want to be insane, so I decided to take a conventional approach to the people who cut in line.

There were two ways to react to scary people, and this went along with many other fearful situations. The usual way I took would have been flight, but now, I had a desire to fight. I had been waiting in the lunch line for too long to put up with greedy people that wanted to push themselves in front of me. So I decided to make a stand.

“I-I didn’t say you could...go in front of me…” I stuttered, “I’d like it if, um, you could…”

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“Hm? Did you say something?” The first person turned to face me with a grimace. Her friends, who were all taller than me, also shot me irritated glances.

“Don’t...cut in front of me…” I summarized, “please.”

My knees were going weak, and I didn’t expect the people in front of me to be so stubborn. Interacting with others has never been my strong suit, and this interaction only highlighted that fact.

To my surprise, one of the small girl’s friends spoke on my behalf, “Hey, if he doesn’t want us cutting, then,” but he was cut off.

“Look, we’re already standing here,” the person who cut in line defended herself, “what’s the problem with waiting a little longer, huh?”

She brought up an interesting point, but I shared, “I-I’m not the only one you’re inconveniencing…”

“Oh, so I’m an inconvenience then?” the girl’s voice began to amp up, “Is that what you’re saying?”

“N-no,” I stammered, “That’s not what I-”

“Really?” she turned to her friends, “You heard what he said right? Well? I’m right about what he told me, right?”

The friend group murmured to each other, with most of them going against me. Only the original guy who stood up for me remained silent. Their obstinate lead friend continued to dog me, with her majority support.

“Now look,” a victorious smile stretched across her face, and she spoke with false sympathy, “we’re all getting hungry, you know? I understand how agitated you must feel with an empty stomach, so just shut your mouth, and quit nagging us already!”

Instinctively, I took a frightened step back. As if acid spittle were spewing from this person’s mouth, I felt an intense burning in my chest. I could no longer stand up to her, so I backed down, and averted my gaze.

“Hmph,” the prime offender peered down at my nametag, as she snobbishly lifted up her chin, “see you later, Illate.”

She practically spat my name out, as she turned away to pick up her tray. Her friends followed suit, and they continued off towards some table off in the distance. I made sure to remember the short, blond-haired girl. That way, I would know who to stay away from.

With defeat in my eyes, I approached the lunch lady who nonchalantly dropped food into my tray. When I grabbed my wallet to pay for my food though, a second hand offered money. I turned to face this mysterious stranger, and I caught sight of a black-haired girl. Her name tag read the name “Tina.”

“That girl was mean,” she stated, “I hope this will help lighten up your mood.”

“O-oh no, I couldn’t,” I responded, trying to get her to stop handing her money, but her hand stayed still.

“Yes, you can,” Tina insisted, “See?”

The lunch lady took the money from Tina’s hands, then chuckled. Seeing this girl try to cheer me up after my failure with the other people must have put her in a good mood. Begrudgingly, I accepted her kindness. She then gave me a smile, which I responded to by awkwardly twirling and shuffling away. A small giggle erupted from behind me, but I had no courage to turn and observe Tina’s form.

“You look funny,” observed Harry, “something major, belittling, yet also uplifting happened while you were out to get your lunch, I just know it.”

I flinched at Harry’s casual, yet scarily-accurate remark. “Wha!” I yelped, “How’d you know!?”

“Well, you see, it’s all in the eyebrows,” Harry responded jokingly, but then he turned serious with, “Wait, I was right?”

“Oh, uh,” it didn’t occur to me that Harry could have been joking, “I was just, playing along, that’s right, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded, clearly not convinced, “so, mister story-teller, gonna tell me the story?”

“W-well…” I contemplated telling Harry the story, “it’s not very interesting…”

“When you tell it,” Harry said, “there’s no way the story can’t be interesting.”

A silence began to settle between us, as I could feel nothing but embarrassment at Harry’s compliment. To my luck, or well, in reality, against it, a hand slammed on the table.

“So this is where you went,” the blond-haired girl from earlier spoke, “I saw that other girl pay for your meal, why don’t you give me the extra you have, huh?”

An audible gulp sounded from my throat. I couldn’t speak anymore, and even Harry stared from his seat. Assuming Harry froze in fear, I figured that I would have to deal with this person on my own.

Instead of calling this straightforward bully as “that girl,” I took a peek at her name tag to figure out what to call her. Apparently, she was called Gentrei. To me, that sounded like the word “gentle.” Her personality went completely against that. She did act like a member of gentry though, so maybe that’s what her name related more to.

“Come on now, Illate,” Gentrei prodded, “there’s no need to be shy.”

I bit my lip. It took a lot of courage to go against this girl. Courage was also needed to surrender as well, and I became stuck in between the two choices. One of my father’s old pieces of advice came to my mind. “Give food to a starving dog, and it will only come back for more.” Of course, as a gambler, my father’s advice had to be taken with a grain of salt, or maybe that’s what made them credible?

In the end, I decided to act with those lines in the forefront of my mind. Well, I wanted to act, but I still froze in fear under the fearsome gaze of the predator known as Gentrei. I could have sworn that my teeth pierced skin, as I bit harder whilst under pressure from the beast in front of me.

“I get it now!” Harry suddenly sounded from the sidelines, “You’re his girlfriend!”

Harry’s statement dumbfounded us all. Even the daggers in Gentrei’s eyes disappeared for a second, stumping the poor girl. Sympathy became rooted into my heart, as I felt sorry for her having to deal with one of Harry’s aberrant, brainless remarks. Sometimes, he scared me with precision. Other times, he just confused me.

“What now?” Gentrei asked with genuine confusion, “Excuse me?”

“Am I right? I’m right aren’t I,” Harry began rambling like a jester, or in other words, a fool, “Ahh, sometimes my genius surprises even me.”

My head banged on the table. Over and over again, I just focused on lightly bonking my skull onto the hard wood, wishing for the world to just fade away. Harry’s gone too far this time. I started to understand how he got a group of serial murderers to go after him just a year ago.

“Could you please tell me,” anger crept into Gentrei’s voice, “what part of this,” she gestured to her face, “made you think we were seeing each other?”

“Well for one, there was the passion in your eyes!” Harry stated, “Oh, how lovey-dovey.”

“What passion!?” Gentrei shrieked, “Is there something wrong with your head?!”

I began rubbing my temples. Perhaps I didn’t feel it yet, but I knew a headache would be coming. Harry and Gentrei, who knew that such a horrible combination of personalities could exist?

“Oh, and then there was the long moment you spent staring into the depths of each other's souls!” Harry listed, “Also, the distance between your faces, they were as close as those in lover’s movies.”

I don’t think Harry even knew the name of the genre of romance.

“Hah!?” Gentrei’s fury continued to build up, “Now I’m really convinced that there’s something drastically defective in your skull, can you even call it a brain!?”

“I know, right?” I agreed with Gentrei, “I have to deal with this guy every day.”

“Ugh,” Gentrei groaned, “now I’m thinking of paying you for keeping this guy occupied…”

“Huh? Oh, come on! Why are you siding with her?” Harry playfully argued, “Oh right, duh, you’re together!”

“”No we’re not!”” Gentrei and I said in unison.

“Heh, you can’t fool me,” Harry chuckled, “not when you’re so in sync.”

“Anyone would get in sync when they’re against you,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, anyone with an IQ over thirty,” Gentrei added, “below thirty too.”

“But doesn’t that just mean that anyone that has an IQ of thirty wouldn’t sync with anyone against Harry?” I poked a hole in her statement, “What’s up with that?”

“People with an IQ over thirty would be appalled by him,” Gentrei explained, “People under thirty would get angry with him, and people with thirty would sympathize for him.”

“Ah, that does make sense, doesn’t it?” I nodded, now enlightened.

Harry slipped a smile, “you two do get along, don’t you? Doesn’t that prove you’re actually together?”

“Oh, this is hopeless,” Gentrei shouted out of the blue, storming off, “I just came here for some money…”

Finally, my brain understood what Harry just did. He drove off the menace that struck fear into my heart. Harry, the unlikely hero, ended up saving my money. Now, the gratitude I should have felt long ago flooded my systems, but before I could thank him, Harry got up and followed Gentrei.

“You needed money, right?” Harry asked, “Here you go.”

“Huh? For me?” Gentrei took the money Harry offered her, “What for?”

“If you needed to go through such lengths for a few dollars,” Harry explained, “I thought that just giving you some would be the best course of action.”

Gentrei stared at him for a while, before turning away. Her mouth moved, but from where I sat, I couldn’t make out her words. Once she started walking away, Harry returned to me. I decided to impart the advice from my father onto him.

“Give a starving dog food,” I repeated the words, “and it will only come back for more.”

“Huh? And?” Harry tilted his head in confusion, “I don’t see what’s wrong with that, I always wanted a pet dog anyways.”

Harry’s kindness knew no bounds.

And in the midst of all that action, I completely forgot about the paragraphs I was supposed to be doing.

…Oops.