Who Would've Guessed Ch. 01

I rub my palms together, a shiver running down my skin as the morning air rushed in.

Two months ago, my science teacher had finally assigned her yearly long-term project for the rest of the school year: We needed to raise a plant — any plant of our choice — to maturity. It made up most of the seniors' grades this semester, so we were really freaking out. Considering how easy it was to raise flowers, most of my classmates opted for it. I figured it would be fun to raise something more practical, so I chose tomatoes.

I knew nothing about raising tomatoes.

While some of my classmates were as ambitious as me, they weren't quite successful with maintaining their own. Well, except for this cabbage in the corner, which looked even healthier than mine. It brought up some strange competitive feelings in me, which wasn't something I usually am.

I carefully approached and checked the crevices of the potted green shrub. No dead parts; it was incredible. I didn't even know you could grow cabbages in small pots, let alone healthy ones like these.

My plant sprouted a dead leaf two weeks ago and it was killing me. Thankfully, it's recovered now, growing to a height of almost 15cm tall. They grew abnormally fast. Hell, I wish my growth spurt had been this quick. I was shorter than most of my peers until I was 14.

Still, it's been going surprisingly well. I was sort of making this up as I went, but my plant was already showing signs of bearing fruit.

My eyes darted to the vivid earthy colors with pride. Every part of it seemed healthy. You could already imagine the type of tomatoes it'll grow. I wonder what I can do with them.

If things go as planned, I figured I'd use it to cook my Aunt's favorite meal — We usually aren't able to, considering the price. Now I'm wondering why I only did this now.

I shivered under the cold siege of the morning and carefully lifted the orange pot to the ledge for sunlight. It should warm up in a minute — unlike me. Every inch of my skin was still shuddering from my morning bath. Thankfully, I wore a jacket to school. Well, I wear jackets regardless, but you get what I'm saying.

Suddenly, my eyes caught on to an ant crawling on one of the plant's leaves. I stared at it for a few seconds, an itch appearing in my hand. I should definitely remove that.

.....Maybe after a picture or two. I quickly grabbed my DSLR camera, a cheap one my uncle used in the 90s, and positioned myself over the pot.

Snap.

The lenses were cheap, but with the right lighting, anything looked great. It just took a little more effort, that's all. After feeling satisfied with how the pictures turned out over five minutes later, I shook the leaf gently.

I try not to kill indiscriminately. Whether it be flies, spiders, or ants. Just to be clear — I'm not a vegan, so I know most people would call me a hypocrite, but I just don't like causing as much unnecessary pain as possible.

I loved meat, but I was convinced that if all people gave it up with the condition that I have to, I'd probably do it in a heartbeat. Plus, who knows? Evidenced by this school project, agriculture was apparently fun. Would it be that bad if we all just grew tomatoes?

I couldn't help but chuckle. At this point, gardening would most likely end up being one of my several hobbies.

My ears twitched, hearing lively chattering from my side. A group of familiar faces were passing by. I didn't know some of them, though, my memory's pretty bad when it comes to faces. Probably just from different classes.

There were plenty of guys surrounding them, but my eyes unconsciously focused on the pretty girls. More specifically, on Sam.

Sam was one of the more popular girls in school. Her friends were pretty high up in the social hierarchy, too. Way above mine. In fact, I don't think we've ever talked — and we're seniors.

I understood her appeal, though. She's nice, from what I could tell. That's pretty important to me.

Plus, she's really pretty.

My eyes squinted at her smile. A friend of hers said something funny, probably.

As I discreetly stared at her curled lip, Sam slowly walked into the tiny bits of sunlight peeking through the windows, her skin glowing under the warm lighting. Before my mind could reflect, my hands reached out for my camera and took a picture.

Heart beating loudly in my ears, I put the camera down almost immediately as if I had done something wrong. Well, I technically did. Anyone who saw what I just did would probably think I'm a stalker, considering none of the people here knew me enough to know photography was a passion of mine.

I browsed through my camera feed, the ant on the leaf no longer the highlight of today. Pretty, I thought after scrutiny. I was proud of a select few when it comes to my range of skills, photography among them. Mostly because it's all I ever do. Sure, I liked a wide array of things, but taking pictures had been a sweet constant in my life.

That's why Uncle Ed dedicated this to me in his will when he passed away.

Now it's just me and Aunt Linda.

I put the camera back in my mini bag. I really have to take care of it since the model's pretty old. Plus, I don't know when I'll be able to afford a new one. I'm not even sure I wanted to replace it.

My thoughts were interrupted as I lurched back in response to a shove, shortly hearing a grating laughter next to my ears.

"Watch it, nerd," Spencer said with displeasure before catching up to his buddies. I looked around. Nobody was walking; there was an entire hallway he could spin around and not hit anyone. Obviously, he did it on purpose — as usual. Never understood the man's fondness for useless power plays like that.

I shook my head and ignored him. Clearly, he didn't have the same idea.

I hear his voice call out again, "Yo, loser!"

Having had enough, I finally turned my head to face him and replied, "What do you — "

"Watch out!" Someone yelled behind me.

That was the last thing I heard before the ball hit my face.

__________________________________

"I'm really sorry," he said, mocking a sad expression in front of the committee. I rolled my eyes as I held a cloth against my bleeding lip.

The principal nodded, obviously buying into his crap act. "I heard it was an accident. Can you forgive him, Cory?"

I knew pushing it wasn't the right answer, but I spoke up anyway, "I'm sorry, but he broke my project. In the hallway. It doesn't matter if it was an accident or not, he shouldn't have been playing football inside school grounds. W-we have a whole field outside for that."

"Yes, uh, Spencer was definitely in the wrong. He'll be punished. Rest assured. Spencer, you'll stay in detention for a week," he told the jock bully, who quickly nodded. Unbeknownst to anyone who was buying into his regretful act, the corner of his lips subtly curled.

"Of course. No, I completely accept. Never meant to hurt anyone, y'know?"

I gnashed my teeth. That meant nothing. Spencer was part of the school's varsity. He usually stayed in school for practice anyway. Putting him in detention only makes him wait for said practice in an air-conditioned room. If anything, it gave him and his friends somewhere to crash.

"With all due respect, that's not a solution, Principal. You know it, he knows it. I suggest banning him from practice for at least a week."

I felt him glare at my back. If looks could kill, I'd already be buried six feet under.

Still, I stood my ground. If anything was punishment for the unruly bastard, it would be something football-related. I knew for a fact he hated missing practice.

Oddly, it was one of the few things I admired about him.

The seated principal looked troubled, seemingly struggling to come to a decision. Beside him, the gym teacher argued, "We can't do that. He's.... Spencer is our best athlete. The Summer Cup tournament is closing in on us. I need the team together if we have any chances of winning against the Tigers."

I could already see everyone in the room nod. My heart sank. There wasn't anyone here who was on my side.

The principal looked at me and laid out his verdict.

__________________________________

I left the office furious. Honestly, it hasn't sunk in that Spencer got out with barely any consequences until I hear him laugh. Don't look at him, I chanted to myself. Attention is what he wants.

He tapped my shoulder. I faced him.

"What?" I asked indignantly.

"Thanks for the detention. Two weeks, wow. I really appreciate it," he said, putting his hands together in a prayer while he wore a smug smirk.

I stared at his eyes, which held no remorse, and suddenly wondered where his hatred for me came from. "Aren't you tired of this?" I ask after a moment.

He replied to me, shrugging, "No, not really. I didn't expect to get detention, but it doesn't matter. Too bad they agreed to give you a perfect score on the project, though. I really wanted to see you fail for once."

Without another word, I took a deep breath and walked away. I've always wanted to ask why he felt the need to mess around with me, but I knew I'd never get the answer I wanted. In fact, any reasons Spencer may have for doing so, I probably wouldn't understand.

More than that, it was a mistake to think the high-achieving jock does it for a reason. Maybe he did it because it was fun. Maybe he did it simply because he felt like it. Either way, it didn't matter.

After cleaning up all the broken fragments of my pot in the hallway, I reluctantly walked back to class. By the time I had arrived, the teacher was already halfway through their lecture. I quickly said my apologies and took a seat.

It seems Spencer made it back earlier than me, already announcing the unexpected yet fortunate detention — his friends high-fiving him as they listened in on the story. Occasionally, I could feel their funny looks on me too. Some were mocking. Some were pitying.

But none of them really do anything. Like always.

I politely asked for my seatmate, Carlo's notes to make up for what I missed. I could tell he didn't want to, but the teacher was looking so he gave it anyway. Unlike with my peers, I had very good social credit with most teachers.

I skimmed through the notes. Honestly, it wasn't the best. Far from being neatly organized like mine, it was all over the place. Fortunately, it was still coherent. With a little digging, I found out today's lesson was about Thermodynamics. As soon as I confirmed it wasn't anything I didn't know, I returned the notebook back and stopped listening. Instead I laid my head and arms on the desk and closed my eyes.

As soon as the class finished, I headed to the third floor and discreetly entered the remote bathroom no one's used in years; a huge open room with over seven shower stalls on each side. It was supposed to be out of order and abandoned, but there was one functional shower in the end. I took my school showers in secret here. The floor around was pretty clean since I made a habit to scrub it every week or so.

You might ask, why go through that much effort when there was a functional restroom on the floor below? Because gym class existed — and nothing terrified me more than the thought of having to talk to strangers, let alone taking a naked shower with them. So I took them here.

I didn't come here to take a bath, though. Classes were over anyway. I could've just headed home and taken a bath there instead.

But I didn't want to. Not there. Instead I went inside the clean and functional stall, leaned on the corner wall and cried. Yeah. Like a fucking baby.

"Shit."

I choked on my sobs. The tears I've been holding back fell and wouldn't stop. All of my frustrations over the past few days burst out uncontrollably.

After a few minutes of non-cathartic wallowing, I hear a knock echoing from the entrance.

"Go away!" I yelled.

But according to the familiar creak, the door seemed to open anyway. The sound of footsteps became nearer and nearer until the pair of shoes appeared in my eyesight. Squeaky clean Nike shoes. The stall's door creaked as it revealed some girl standing there, her eyes completely at me.

"Cory? That was you?" she said. I looked up at her face. I knew her.

It was Sam, the girl I took a picture of.

This was the third floor. Why was she here? And what's more, why was she talking to me?

Rationalizing the situation, I figured she heard someone cry and she had to help. That's just the way she is.

Sam was friends with everyone. Literally everyone — even the teachers and staff. Heck, she could probably befriend a starving lion given the chance. That's how socially refreshing she was. The complete opposite of me, who looked, dressed, and spoke awkward. Everyone liked being near her, myself included, but I avoided her like a plague because she... well, she was Spencer's childhood friend.

The two were almost always together. And rumors had it they were in love with each other since middle school. He certainly didn't keep his feelings a secret.

"You shouldn't be here. This is the men's room," I said.

She shrugged and replied, "No one's been here for years. I think this is a ghost's room already."

"Ghosts don't exist."

"They definitely do, but I'll get into that with you next time."

I wiped my eyes back and forth, trying to stop the influx of water streaming down my face.

Sam opened her mouth, seemingly trying to say something. She didn't, though. She looked awkward, just standing there without a word. Sam, the social butterfly — awkward.

That's how unsociable I was. I made someone who befriends lions uncomfortable.

"Why are you here?" I helped her out and asked. She seemed unaccustomed to pauses on a conversation — something I was an expert with.

"I heard someone crying when I was passing by. No one's usually here so I checked."

"Now you know it's the freak. Can you go?" I replied.

Sam silently stared at me through her ridiculously pretty eyelashes. "I was only trying to help, Cory. There's no need for the attitude," she rebuked before walking away.

Guilt instantly curbed my stomach. Yikes. She was right. The popular girl was just trying to be nice, and the bottom-feeding scum was rude to her. God, I hated being rude.

I fixed my eyes on the floor and called out, "S-sorry. You're right. That was rude. You're just, uh, catching me at a bad time, all right?"

I mustered the courage to look up at her. The pretty girl had stopped walking. After a few seconds, she turned back, a smile evident on her lips. Was she just messing with me?

With the room completely silent except my stifled sobs and her squeaking shoes, she pursed her lips and asked, "Why are you crying all alone in this bathroom anyway? Is this about what happened earlier?"

I sniffed. Tears started to fall again. It was embarrassing crying this much in front of somebody I barely knew, but it was better I release everything here instead of bringing it home.

I hated crying in front of my aunt. When... our lives were turned upside down, Aunt Cass seriously made it a point to keep the harder parts to herself. I once tried to fill the void my uncle left behind, but that was laughably idiotic. The best I could do was work a few odd jobs and just emotionally not be a burden to the woman who raised me.

She didn't need to comfort a man-child who couldn't handle his emotions.

I wiped my cheeks dry with my drenched sleeves and agreed, "Yeah."

"I don't understand. You're crying because of the grades? Didn't they agree to give you a perfect score?" Sam tilted her head in confusion.

I stifled a sob again, this time even harder. "I don't care about that."

"So... what are you crying about? Spencer? I get it. He's a jackass, all right."

"Don't you guys date?" I asked her cautiously.

Sam shook her head in annoyance. "That's just a rumor someone spread. I'm not even sure I like him as a friend."

"Then why are you friends?"

Sam seemed put off by the question, taking more than a moment to think about it before she spoke, "I don't know. We were neighbors back then. I guess you just become friends with random people along the way. Then you build bonds with jerks before you know it.

She stared at me directly in the eyes. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry. I've been trying to get him to stop."

I waved my hand. "It doesn't matter. He's not why I'm crying anyway."

"Don't tell me this is about the tomatoes?" she laughed, thinking I would too.

I didn't.

Sam stared intensely at me. "You're kidding."

I replied back, my voice caught up in anger, "So what if it is? I worked hard for those."

She looks at me oddly as the realization dawns on her. "You're not kidding."

"I'm not. This is about the tomatoes." A grin appeared on her lips as soon as I stopped talking, which she promptly tried to hide.

"It's not funny," I grumbled.

"It's not — It's really not. I get it." Giggles escaped past her lips as I rolled my eyes at her.

"No, I really do. I, um, I'll get really pissed off too if someone touched my project."

"What did you plant?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Cabbage."

"That was yours?" Of course I remember my, uh, rival. That cabbage could make an impression on anyone. Even I felt a sense of awe every time I thought of the potted plant. Apparently it showed on my face.

"You think it's amazing, don't you?"

I laughed, "A little bit."

She laughed, too. It filled the originally somber room with slightly more color. "My dad owns a farm, so I know a thing or two about planting."

"That's amazing," I said genuinely before adding, "I don't know anything about tomatoes."

She tilted her head and exclaimed doubtfully, "Really? It didn't look like it. They looked great."

"Thank you," I responded, nodding my head slightly.

A moment of silence ensued as we both stared at each other's eyes. Unlike the silence that usually preceded most of my conversations, this was... comfortable. I couldn't help but glance at her lips, which stayed shut as well, before my eyes darted to her eyes. Was she... feeling whatever this is too?

Then it broke, the school bells rang from afar. As if possessed by the ghosts I claimed didn't exist, I flinched and broke eye contact.

She broke the silence, "Uh, yeah. I know it's frustrating to lose months of progress, but you could always try again. It'll come out better. Or if you want to try something new, go with another plant. Regardless, don't think that the work you've put into this is meaningless. It's not."

I nodded, swept up by her eloquence. "Yeah. You're right. Maybe I could try radishes. That'd pair well with yours," I said before immediately regretting it. Did that sound flirty? I didn't mean it to be. Should I explain? No, that would make it weirder. Probably.

Suddenly, I realized I wasn't crying anymore. Jolted at the realization, I put strength in my legs and stood up. The next second, however, I let out a small embarrassing yelp as cold water from the shower doused me completely.

"Shit," I cursed out loud. I must've accidentally hit the faucet lever. I turned to look at Sam to make sure she hadn't been soaked — only to see her weirdly gazing at me, her face completely red.

I hastily turned it off before asking her, "Did you get wet?"

"Excuse me?" She looked me in the eye and scoffed in incredulity.

I tilted my head in confusion and added as I pointed up at the shower, "You should move back a little. The water's kind of cold. Sorry if it got on your clothes."

Her cheeks turned visibly red — like a tomato. She looked... embarrassed?

"Oh, okay. Y-yeah," she stuttered, completely unable to meet my eyes unlike before.

She still didn't move, though. As if distracted.

I lifted up my arms, showing off the water dripping from my jacket as I reminded her, "You should probably take a step back. I am drenched."