"Ryan..."
"Ryan..."
"Ryan."
"Ugh... What? Can't you see I'm sleeping, Mom?"
"Ryan!"
The blackness in Ryan's mind vanished instantly as he stood up and slapped his hands against the firm surface on which he'd been resting his head.
"What?!" he looked around, confused, while the lingering effects of drowsiness that still clouded his mind slowly faded.
—Young Ryan, would you care to explain why you've fallen asleep in my class for the fourth time this month? —asked a voice with an authoritative tone.
Class? Sleep? School?
"I fell asleep at school!"
Ryan looked around in a daze, until his eyes finally adjusted to the irritating sunlight with its faint orange hues filtering through the windows.
Everyone in the classroom had their eyes fixed on the boy who had just woken from a peaceful, deep sleep. This sudden focus of attention came with furtive glances and cheeks puffed out from stifled laughter.
In front of the first row of desks stood the teacher: a woman with a tired appearance, eyes full of dark bags and wrinkles, breath stale with coffee, and a temperament that made her fingers tremble involuntarily, and made others' blood run cold. Ryan was no exception.
—Counseling —she pointed with her trembling finger at the sliding wooden door—. Now!
The loud, forceful shout jolted Ryan, who hurriedly grabbed his things and strode out of the classroom. As he slid the wooden door shut behind him, the wood scraping against the frame, the classroom erupted in boisterous laughter, along with the teacher's shouts trying to silence the commotion.
He headed toward the special counseling room, while his mind—now calmer—kept replaying the events. He'd fallen asleep, again. It wasn't from lack of attention, nor was he sleeping too little at home; at a certain point, his head just couldn't fight the urge to rest anymore. He'd lay his head on the desk for a few minutes, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up two hours later. It was uncontrollable. Anyone would think it was a health problem, but a part of his confident self told him it was far-fetched to attribute a little sleepiness to a health issue.
So he simply shrugged and limited himself to enjoying the relaxing dry sound of his footsteps as he walked. A soft tapping against the wood, very satisfying to the ear.
Upon reaching the student counseling room and sliding open the door, he was greeted by a deafening silence. The room was so desolate that an overwhelming, unsettling feeling could be perceived, weighing on his shoulders so heavily that it instantly broke his relaxed posture.
There, at a desk in front of all those rows of empty seats, sat Yuromi, a graduate in pedagogy and psychology, who played a coordination and counseling role at the institute, but affectionately they called her "teacher." She was a young-looking woman, with round glasses that gave her an air of wisdom and serenity, but also a calm that made you feel her strict aura, which weighed more than any harsh shout.
The air filtering through the windows not only let in a coolness that broke the oppressive atmosphere inside the classroom but also billowed the white curtains covering the windows, creating a beautiful, wavelike motion in time with the wind.
Ryan entered the room and slid the door shut, abruptly breaking this tranquil atmosphere that had organically arisen from the silence.
—My favorite teacher —he declared aloud, deliberately—. And rightly so. What's a tundra beauty like you doing wasting time in such a lonely place? Reading?
He tilted his head to snoop at the object under the desk that had captured the teacher's attention. But she quickly hid it in one of the drawers, shutting it firmly.
—Mr. Belen, what I do or don't do in my free time is none of your concern —she stated curtly.
Ryan let his shoulders drop, feigning discouragement, and approached the desk to sit in a chair that already had his name on it, figuratively speaking.
—Are you mad at me? Your beloved student? —Ryan touched his chest and, dramatically, made a spectacular gesture of pain—. What a shame! How is it possible that my unpleasant actions have earned me your contempt? I can't live knowing that my favorite person in the world hates me.
He pointed his finger into the distance, gesturing toward the horizon and dragging his hand through the air.
—Please, don't say that —said the teacher in a bored tone, used to the young man's witty dramatics.
—Then I'll take my own life... —he paused and touched his forehead with feigned pain. Then he tilted his head back—. Perhaps in the afterlife, I'll be able to forgive this wretched soul.
—Are you finished? —the teacher snapped, crossing her arms.
Ryan pointed at her with both fingers in a gallant gesture while winking—until he nearly popped a vessel in the corner of his eye—and complemented it with a grand, smug smile.
—What do you think? I should sign up for the drama club, shouldn't I?
—You should sign up for a psychologist. Pay attention, Ryan, I'm not joking this time —the firmness in her voice distilled seriousness.
And so passed a boring hour for Ryan. Not only were there scoldings from Yuromi, but also a long, tedious monologue about social ethics, starting from school ethics—where the person, and therefore society, is formed. There were also a series of reprimands regarding his sloppy attire, repeatedly citing the school dress code, to the point that she even made him copy it at least seven times in his notebook. And to top it off, her favorite of all: "Is school your home? Or why do you spend your time sleeping on the desks as if they were beds?" Yuromi had her phases, and this time he got the one that completely shattered her serene composure.
—How long are you going to torture me? —Ryan wanted to tear his hair out with his fingers.
—What did you expect, boy? The kind teacher who let all your insolence slide without further preamble? —she was so angry it even seemed like a vein was bulging in her neck—. I'm sorry for your mother, but everything has its limit, and you've exhausted my patience.
—At least give me a break.
Ryan leaned his head back again to look at the ceiling and once more put his hand to his forehead, as if in a tragic moment.
—How much longer will you keep this up, Ryan? Just look at yourself —she pointed at him disdainfully—. You used to be an exemplary student. The best grades, the best performance, you were diligent and intelligent, but now you waste your potential loafing around. You get just enough grades to stay average, but sometimes you don't even try that.
—I'm just tired, that's all.
—Tired? Tired? —Yuromi put her hand to her forehead—. My God, what I have to hear. You just want an excuse to do nothing. Do you really think you'll get anywhere with that lack of ambition? Or have you already resigned yourself to mediocrity? I'll have to talk to your mother. I can't let you keep destroying yourself like this.
Ryan stretched his hands forward, wanting to stop her, even though Yuromi hadn't made any move to get up.
—Wait, wait, wait. There's no need to involve my mother —he drew a strained smile on his lips—. She's already very tired with everything going on with my brother. I don't want to worry her more.
Yuromi seemed moved for a moment, but then she masked that emotion again with a severe attitude.
—So that's what's going on. Listen, you have to move on with your life, because only you and I— —she paused to retract a small error—. Well, I meant, only you and I should worry about your future. Let's do this: I won't tell your mother, but in return, I expect an improvement in your attitude. I want good grades and your teachers falling over themselves with praise.
A small smile escaped her lips, as if for a moment she'd recalled moments from the past. After that, her severe, penetrating gaze slowly dissolved.
—I'll send you some study materials for your entrance exam. This is serious. You can't miss your chance to get into a good university; it's what you deserve. To stop your procrastination —she imitated his grandiose gesture and pointed at him spectacularly with her finger while winking—. I'll make sure to get you back on track.
Then she clasped her hands together and looked at the ceiling with hopeful, expressive eyes.
—In the future, you'll say: "Thank you for setting me straight, Auntie." And I'll say: "You're welcome, it's my job."
—It's not fun at all when you do it.
—What are you—?
Her complaint was interrupted by the bell signaling the end of the day.
—Do you have any extracurricular responsibilities? —Yuromi asked.
—Nope.
—Weren't you on the track team?
—You said it yourself: "was."
—Why?
—Personal reasons —Ryan shrugged, trying to downplay it.
Yuromi rubbed her eyes in frustration. Then she rested her elbows on the desk and propped her chin on her interlaced fingers, the soft evening light illuminating the side of her face, accentuating their locked gazes.
—I won't press further on that. Go on, get out. I don't want to see your face.
Ryan stood up with a big smile on his lips, part satisfied, part mocking. Then he headed for the exit, waving his hand in a farewell gesture, saying, "See you later, Auntie."
As he closed the door behind him, his smug smile vanished instantly. He put his hands in his pockets, searching for something until... Eureka! He pulled out his latest-model phone. No, he wasn't a spoiled mommy's boy or daddy's boy; he'd earned it with blood, sweat, and tears, just as his brother had taught him. That's why this phone had indescribable sentimental value. He rarely took it out of the house, afraid it might be stolen again.
"Damn thieves!"
But this time was different. He was taking out his phone now. Not out of vanity or confidence, but because he'd been waiting for something for days.
A message.
The cold light of the screen illuminated his face. Anxiously, he opened his chat app, and there he searched for the contact listed as Big Brother, no photo. Opening the chat, his gaze fell into discouragement. Five messages, five messages each two days apart, none seen by his brother.
He muttered to himself:
"Ugh... What the hell are you doing?"
—You gonna cry?
Ryan's eyes shot open. He put his phone away quickly and then began searching for the source of that voice: one hallway, nobody; the other, nobody. Until he looked down and saw there, squatting against the wall, a kid with a pretty rebellious look: dyed yellow hair, half-bleached and unkempt, and a face full of piercings—one on his lip, two on each ear. The kind of guy irresistible to women, without a doubt.
—What the hell did you just say? —his voice dropped to a deep, threatening tone—. If you tell anyone what you just saw, I'll find you and beat the crap out of you.
The kid backed off, making a "calm down" gesture with both hands to appease him. Though behind that non-confrontational attitude hid a mocking smile.
—Don't worry, Sleeping Beauty.
—The gossip reached you that fast? You're a catalyst, Andrey.
Andrey burst into laughter, writhing and holding his belly to contain himself. He muttered in a voice hoarse from laughing: —"Come on, man, calling the teacher 'Mom' was the best thing I've heard in years."
—Ha, ha, ha —Ryan laughed flatly and rolled his eyes in exasperation—. You're hilarious.
—Thanks, I try really hard.
Both admitted their annoyances, disguised with sarcasm. Then Ryan reached out his hand to Andrey to help him up.
They walked side by side, heading toward the school entrance, intending to put away their school supplies and finally be "free." As they walked, they chattered as if they hadn't seen each other in years.
—Who the hell is "Emyelis23"?
Ryan questioned, following a topic that had come up after Andrey informed him—though it wasn't in his interest to know—that a social media influencer was going to visit their great city. He wouldn't have pressed the issue, but he heard a lot of people talking about this person.
—What do you mean you don't know who she is?! —Andrey grabbed his head as if he were about to faint from Ryan's ignorance—. You must be living under a rock. It's Emyelis23! She has millions of followers! She's the hottest influencer on the VeRpeT streaming platform! She's a genius... Incomparable, a goddess. Her charisma is unique. You're a rock in comparison.
—Well, I don't know her. I don't live glued to a screen all day —Ryan said suggestively.
—Hey, I don't either, but you'd have to be a total trend-hermit not to know her —he paused, a malicious smile spreading across his lips—. Besides... She's an adult model. Ten dollars a month subscription to her channel, if you know what I mean.
Ryan looked at Andrey with a grim face as he tried to spark his interest one way or another.
—And I suppose you consume her content, don't you? —he seized the opportunity to mock a little—. What kind of miserable human being do you have to be to pay ten dollars a month just to see the pixels of a woman on a screen. I thought better of you.
—Man, you're blunt, aren't you? —Andrey smiled bitterly.
—Of course I'm blunt, and I love it. I love having no filter to stop me from telling stupid people like you what I think, my dear friend.
—Hey, hey, hey, show some respect for fan number one. After all, thanks to our donations, Emyelis23 can live the life of luxury she so deserves.
—I'm serious. Sometimes I think your idiocy can't impress me anymore, and then you break a record —Ryan sighed heavily while shaking his head—. I mean, I can't expect much from a miserable, dignity-lacking animal who ended up forgiving his girlfriend for cheating.
—Hey! She won't do it again. She told me she wouldn't.
—Yeah, right. If I told you I could fly, you'd probably believe me.
—Well, I don't care much for your opinion. After all, I only forgave her for these —he made a gesture with his hands over his chest, as if touching invisible breasts.
—You're the worst.
As they passed one of the classrooms, a group of students leaning out the windows facing the hallway pointed at him, laughing. That made Ryan turn red.
—Oh, look who's popular. Too bad it's only because you called the teacher 'Mom.'
—Shut up.
They finally reached the school entrance, where the lockers were arranged in hallways. The only good thing about extracurricular schedules was that almost all students had to continue with their activities inside the school, so the busy entrance was less congested at dismissal time, except for a few students without clubs.
After storing their items in their lockers and changing into their regular shoes, they both left the school. Ryan was ready to run home, but just outside, they were intercepted by a group of six people.
They weren't hard to recognize. Those unfriendly faces that distilled a conceited attitude, overly adorned bodies—whether with piercings or some other extravagance that definitely shouldn't be allowed inside the school due to the respective dress codes. And that almost rebellious attitude, like a wild, adventurous spirit—too adventurous for their own good.
You could say they looked more like delinquents, but Ryan had the misfortune of having hung out with them before. They were Andrey's troublemaker group; he could even see his "friend's" twisted girlfriend there, a frivolous girl in every sense, with a lack of self-esteem. She was the type who posted tons of photos on social media just to be adored, and apparently had no personality outside of them. That's why she always had a phone in her hand, taking pictures next to everything, as exaggerated as that sounds.
These were the downsides of hanging out with someone like Andrey, whom Yumico had repeatedly labeled a bad influence in front of Ryan's parents.
—What's this about? —Ryan asked, with no hint of surprise in his voice.
The group stood at a prudent distance and gestured for Andrey to hurry up. One of them, a pretty tall guy with an intimidating look, insisted: —"Come on, Andrey, before it gets dark."
Andrey looked at Ryan and smiled casually.
—Relax, we're just going to a karaoke bar. It's not like we're going to vandalize anything—we already did that yesterday —he put his hands on his hips and his expression turned proud—. And you're coming with us.
—Of course not. Just because I like you relatively well doesn't mean the same goes for your group.
—Come on, man. Look over there —he pointed at the group, more precisely at the women standing there—. See those cuties? It'd do you wonders to go on a date every once in a while. Besides, we'll pay for everything.
He couldn't deny the offer was tempting, but just thinking about accepting made Yuromi's words come back to his mind like a torrent of tormenting speech.
But he also considered that after what happened with Jesse and the fight that led to him quitting the track team, it would do him good to relax with people other than that girl. But getting her out of his head wasn't so easy.
He took a deep breath. It would be the last time, he'd promised himself. He nodded his head.
"I'll go with you."