Jarich - Jarich

im a simple gal, u as someone not on the schizophrenic spectrum say schizo, i avoid the hell out of you

The Boy That Sits Alone In The Front Row Always Wears A Black Sweater

Original story Words: 3,230 Genre: Romance, Drama, Slice of life Warning(s): Self-harm

Even when it was in the middle of summer, he would always wear his black sweater. No matter how hot it gets.

One time, the air conditioner broke down. It wasn't fixed until the next two weeks. And since our class is on the second floor, there wasn't a lot of wind coming through the window. It was like being stuck in a giant oven for two hours, yet he still wore the sweater.

I can understand why he had to suck up and bear with it on the first day it happened. Of course, all of us had to, with whatever outfit we put on that day.

We had two more courses that took place in that room. Each lasted for two hours. So, a total of six hours per week in the furnace.

I still don't understand why they didn't just schedule those classes in a different room.

The second day, knowing that I was going into the oven for another two hours, I knew I had to wear something that would keep me from being baked alive. But we had another class in a different room before that, so I decided to wear a thin shirt with a tank top underneath. Then I unbuttoned it and left it that way for the next class.

Everyone else was wearing less outfit compared to the day before, but he still wore the thick black sweater from yesterday.

Did he forget?

Did he assume the air conditioner would be fixed in one day?

I didn't think much about it, but then he wore it again in the next class.

And kept wearing it until the air conditioner was fixed.

Because of this, I sometimes glance around the room during class to see what he was wearing. Just out of curiosity. And after I got my confirmation that he was, in fact, wearing a black sweater, I didn't pay attention to him any longer.

But then I noticed during that time that whenever I looked for him, my eyes would always land in the same spot for every class.

He would always sit in the front row. And he would always sit in the corner. Didn't matter which corner. If I didn't see him on the right, then he must be on the left.

At first I thought, 'Wow, he must be a real nerd to sit in front everyday and listen to the lecture.' Until I glanced at him one day and he was playing candy crush on his phone.

Oh. He wasn't paying attention.

In fact, he was playing a different kind of game at random times during class. Was he not afraid to get caught?

Then I noticed that the professors never called on him. They never turn to look at his direction at all. As if he had no presence.

So, maybe his seating choice was a strategy?

I concluded that he was the type of person who didn't care about college that much but only enough to never skip class and get a passing grade. However, I was proven wrong.

In one of our classes, we had a pop quiz. The professor stated that it was a pre-test for the next chapter, so it was fine even if we flunked it. And I thought, 'There was no way in hell that guy could get a passing grade!'

He got a perfect mark. Everyone else barely got half of the questions correct.

How is that fair?

Another thing is that he never talked to anyone. The seat beside him would be empty, or someone would sit there but they were obviously not his friend. Because he didn't interact with them at all.

What is this? The guy with no friends who plays games everyday is secretly a genius? And what's with wearing the same black sweater everyday? Is that part of his mysterious persona?

Does he have multiple black sweaters? Or does he use the same disgusting sweater everyday? Hopefully he washes them over the weekend.

He's a peculiar human. But is he interesting enough for me to befriend and get to know him? Nope.

He was the type of person that if you didn't put in any kind effort to get close to him, you might never interact with him at all. He seems to purposely not be acknowledged by anyone and stay invisible.

Strangely, despite observing him these past few weeks, I don't think I can accurately describe his face. I don't think I can even accurately imagine what he looks like.

The only time I managed to see his face was when I walked into the classroom. That is, if he had arrived earlier than me. Most of the time, he did. But even then, he would be looking down on his phone or looking away from my angle.

It wasn't until halfway through the semester that I got to talk to him.

I had a different class that day before the one with him in it, and I sat in the front row because I had to do a presentation. My phone was running low, so I charged it in the corner and left it there. After that class, I grabbed my things to move to the third row because I didn't want to stay in the front, but I forgot my charger in the socket.

I only realized it in the middle of the next class because my phone was running low again.

Fortunately, the black sweater guy was sitting exactly where I sat, and I was directly two rows behind him.

The row between us was empty so I had to call out to him.

"Hey!"

I had to whisper, of course, so as not to bother the lecture.

Ah, what was his name again?

"Psst! Hey!"

The guy turned to his side to see that there was no one sitting beside him, then he looked back confused.

"Yes! I'm calling you! I left my charger under your seat. Grab it for me, yeah?"

He didn't answer me.

He just silently unplugged the charger and handed it over.

Since we were two rows away, he had to get up and stretch his arm out.

That was the first time I managed to get a good look at his face. And I caught sight of his wrist when the sleeve of his black sweater was pulled back a bit.

Thin faded lines came to view.

I saw something that I shouldn't have. But he didn't notice what I saw.

"Thanks," I said as he turned away and sat back down.

I knew that he always crossed my mind every once in a while, but that was the first time I couldn't think of anything other than him for the rest of the class.

Should I say something?

I had to do something, but what can I do? Tell him to get help? Would he do it if I told him to? Should I help him? What rights do I have? He obviously didn't want anyone to get close.

Should I just pretend I never saw anything?

Maybe everything is all right now. Maybe he wore the black sweater to cover up his past and hoped no one would ever bring it up.

Besides, someone with good grades wouldn't do that to themselves.

Someone with a smart head wouldn't throw away their future, right?

I can understand if it was someone who struggled to get through college.

If it was someone who had to make their own notes and spent hours and hours reading and absorbing them far before the day of the test.

If it was someone who, even after all that, might still not get a passing grade.

Or someone who, after all that, got an average grade. But it was like a miracle that it brought tears to their eyes and they celebrated.

But that's not me. Because I never put in that much effort.

I've tried that before and got disappointed.

What's the point in wasting your time to study when you know you're going to fail anyway?

I feel so miserable every time I get my results back that I have to surround myself with other people. If they do worse, it makes me feel a little bit better.

And I might be failing one of my courses.

The one where he keeps getting perfect marks. Actually, he gets perfect marks in all the courses I have with him.

He comes into class just enough before being considered late, plays on his phone the whole time, leaves early, and aced every test.

Must be hard to live with such a great mind.

Finals week was around the corner and I considered giving up.

I didn't get a passing grade for midterm. And I didn't have enough marks on my assignments to cover that. If I didn't get at least an A on the last project, I have to retake the class.

So, I did what every college student does when they got desperate to pass the course.

"Can you do my final project for me?"

I managed to talk to him after one of our classes where he didn't rush out of the room the moment our professor concluded the lecture.

"You always get perfect grades, right? Do my project and I'll pay you. It doesn't have to be good, just enough to get an A."

He frowned with an annoyed expression.

"No."

"Kidding! I meant to ask for help with my project. I'm serious about paying, though. Help me out?"

"No."

"What? What do you mean 'No'?"

He walked past me without responding.

"Ah, wait! If I don't get an A, I have to retake this class and I can't afford that. Please?"

He kept walking.

"I really was joking about asking you to do my project. I just need some pointers. Tips! Or... if you have any notes?"

I continued to follow him and pester him about the project. I didn't have any other reason I could use to talk to him.

He didn't completely brush me off or pick up his pace. He just kind of ignored me.

"Please? I'm desperate. And If you do have any kind of notes, I'll buy them. But I might ask you a lot of questions, though, because I might be too dumb to understand it. Or if you're already working on your project, can I see them? Just for a reference! I swear I won't copy them. I will even send you my own project before submission so you can make sure of that. Anything is fine! Really!"

"I don't care."

"Ouch. I'm not really asking you to care, though. Just help me out this once! I'll owe you anything. And did I mention that I'll pay?"

Unexpectedly, he stopped and threw a tired look at me.

"You said you can't afford to retake the class, but you'll pay me to help you?"

Busted.

"Well, I kind of hope we can agree on the best price for the both of us!"

"Aren't you just lazy?"

"No? Well, a little. No, but I will do my project on my own. I just need a little help."

"Stop following me."

Pretty funny that he only said that after we got off of campus grounds. But I ignored his wishes just as he ignored mine. He didn't complain that I was still obviously behind him.

"But have you started working on the project? You know it's worth like 30%, right? I imagined someone like you must have started working on it the moment it was announced, you know?"

"Someone like me?"

He didn't even turn to look my way as he said that. He sounded tired.

"I don't know, you always get perfect marks, even on quizzes that didn't matter. You always get the best score. You know some of them won't affect our grades, right? And you always sit in front for some reason. Are lectures that interesting? That's an opinion I can never understand."

"No."

"Sorry?"

"I haven't started. Also, I don't listen to the lectures. I play games in class."

Yeah, I know.

"Really? Then how do you keep getting top marks? Oh! Did you cheat? Have you been cheating on tests the whole time? Am I asking the wrong guy to ask for help?"

He paused for a bit.

"Yes."

Was that... a joke?

I guess he just said that to make me stop asking for help.

I laughed at him.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Ask anyone else for help."

"Nooo! All my friends are dumb! I mean, I'm dumber, but they're still too dumb to help me get an A!"

"It has to be an A?"

"I got 33 on midterm!"

"...and your other-"

"Everything else adds up to 36. I did the math already and I need at least an 85 to pass. That is at least an A."

"Heh."

He just chuckled! This motherf*cker. He's the type to laugh at others' misery, huh? I guess I'm not one to talk.

There's a student housing right across our campus. I thought we were walking there, but we went past it. I guess now I know why I never saw this guy around whenever I visit my friends in the dorms. He probably never hung around after class.

Instead, we stopped at a tall apartment building. It looked more like a place for businessmen rather than college students. It looked expensive.

"Wow, you live here? This place looks nice! Oh, it's like 5 minutes from the subway, too!"

"Why are you still here?"

"You're helping me with my project!"

"I never agreed to that."

"Why am I here then?"

He gave a long sigh and walked into the apartment. Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't put in more effort in kicking me out.

The inside of the building was even more luxurious than what I imagined. Apparently he lived on the 18th floor. He must have a great view of the city. No wonder he always went straight home after class. I would too. With an apartment this cool, I wouldn't mind staying in everyday either.

We stopped in front of the door to his apartment.

Again, I'm surprised he let me into the elevator.

"Warning. It's messy."

"Got it."

At least he has some manners. Classic. Everyone always says their room is messy, but it's never as bad as they say.

The moment he opened the door, a foul stench of garbage attacked my nose.

He went inside like it was nothing and turned on the lights.

"Make yourself at home."

There were water bottles everywhere. A garbage can beside the kitchen sink was filled to the brim and surrounded by random plastic bags that were also filled with trash. The air was stuffy. Some furniture was piled with dust.

I didn't hesitate to make a disgusted face.

"You mean make myself at a waste disposal site"

"You can always leave."

This time, I gave a long sigh.

The smell was so pungent that it was speaking in my head, 'Hey, it's not worth it. At least you tried. Go home.'

Wouldn't he get any complaints from this?

How does he live with this? Wait. How does he not smell on campus?

Oh my god. Does he not wash the black sweater after all?

"How come I never notice that you smell?"

"I shower."

"But wouldn't this smell stick?" I waved around my finger to point at his whole apartment.

He just shrugged.

"If it works, it works. No one ever said I smell."

"That's because you don't have friends."

Oops. That slipped out.

He didn't look offended, though. He just stared at me with the same annoyed look.

"So, now I'll say it. You smell."

"You're not my friend."

"Well, as someone who is not your friend, I declare that you smell."

"Leave," He said, closing the door.

"Wait! Wait- Alright, I'm sorry. I'll help you clean, and you'll help me with my project."

"No," He said, closing the door again.

"Okay! I'll clean! And you'll help me with my project!"

"No-"

"Just let me clean! Then we'll talk."

We stood there silently. Him, still holding the door to close it, and me, still pushing the door to keep it open.

After a few seconds, he let go of the door without a word and lay down on his bed. He pulled out his phone to play the same games he would play in class.

Alright, it was time to get to work.

I started with throwing out all the trash with plastic bags into the garbage room. It wasn't even that far, only about five rooms away, just at the end of the hall. Then I had to stuff all the scattered garbage into more plastic bags.

"Where do you keep extra plastic bags? Oh gross, do you just stop getting them once you've run out? Why do I keep seeing Chinese take outs and different kinds of instant ramen cups? Do you not eat anything else?"

He didn't answer any of my questions, so I kept yapping and babbling anyway.

It was a hassle to get rid of the plastic bottles. Some of them were far deep under the bed or the sofa. He didn't even offer to help me move the furniture around to get the ridiculously hidden trash that has been there for who knows how long.

I opened the window to get some air circulation, but because there was so much trash to pick up, I ended up drenched in sweat anyway. It was a good workout session. And after all the trash was gone, I realized the apartment was way bigger than it seemed when I first walked in.

Tired, I dropped myself onto the sofa. It was still a bit dusty, but I was already dirty anyway, so it didn't matter.

He finally got up from his bed and looked around. He didn't seem to be impressed, much less appreciative.

"You're done?"

I answered slightly out of breath, "No... This apartment is pretty big. How much is rent?"

"I don't rent it."

"You bought this place?"

"My parents did."

Son of a b*tch. He's smart and rich? Also, he's not bad looking. If he wasn't disgusting and a loner, he might have gotten himself a girlfriend by now.

"By the way, I couldn't find any vacuum or a broom. I don't think I've seen a mop either."

He didn't respond.

"You don't have them do you? Ugh. Fine. I guess that's it for the day. I'm going home."

I got up from the sofa and walked towards the door.

He didn't stop me. But when I reached for the door handle, he called out.

"I thought you needed my help with the project?"

"Yeah, I'm too tired by now. Nothing you say will get stuck in my head for more than 2 minutes. Let's talk about it next time."

"Next time?"

"Well, I have to get a broom or something to get rid of all that dust! Maybe a mop, too."

I walked out of his apartment and closed the door.

I didn't see his face, but when he asked about 'next time', I thought I heard his voice differently. As if he had said it in a slightly hopeful tone.

Perhaps I imagined it.

Click here for part 2 ^^

Did you see that Magic: the Gathering now has a game state in which you need to prove that there are an infinite number of twin primes to win? I can explain it more if you are interested.

(With reference to this post here.)

By all means, please tell us about the Magic: the Gathering combo which requires proving the twin prime conjecture in order to win.

I'm so sorry. Good luck.

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The Sound of Music (1965) dir. Robert Wise

To The Person I Returned The Expensive Shirt To - Jordan Bolton

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WPR

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