Unknown Identity

Chapter Ten

Half an hour later and I feel like sleeping. Should schools have really comfortable chair? Like red cushioned chairs? And what subject is Professor Stickman (let’s just stick to that name. It sounds better and more respectful) teaching really? Economics? Math?

“What is this subject?” I whispered to Elliot.

“It’s not a subject. You’re not in high school anymore. You call it a course,” he corrected me as if that made him genius.

“Okay, then what do you call the course that students get in college?”

“It’s not a course, it’s a program,” he rolled his eyes as though I'm an idiot.

“Well, what is this program that you enrolled me in?”

“Bachelor of Science in Business Management.”

“What?!” I whispered a bit too loud which made a few heads turn two rows below us. I lowered my voice. “I wouldn’t survive in this program!”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be out of college in no time.”

I rolled my eyes. He must be talking about paying the school officials to graduate.

“You’re a shallow Pigheaded Baboon, you know that?”

“Whatever,” he said.

I listened to Professor Stickman for a while. After picking up the lesson, I opened my notebook and scribbled random keywords and other things that I shouldn’t forget. Then, I felt like doodling on an empty page of my notebook.

I was halfway done with my work when Elliot spoke to me.

“You must be an art student in your previous life,” he said.

“Previous life?” I asked without looking at him and continued to draw.

“You know, before the accident.”

“Oh,” I said. There was a long silence. “I don’t know. I still can’t remember anything.”

“You’re pretty good,” he said after a while.

“Thanks,” I smile.

He actually knows how to give someone a compliment. Who knows what else this Pigheaded Baboon can do?

“Seriously though.  What time is this course going to end?” I asked, doodling away, not giving him a glance even for a millisecond.

“Almost.”

I gave him a discrete glance, fully praying that he wouldn’t catch me. He didn’t, though. He was paying attention to my doodle than to Mr. Stickman.  His head was facing front, but his eyes were completely focused on my sketch.

I moved my head a bit lower and let out an involuntary smile.

Not for long, the class was finally over.  Quiz next meeting.  Great.  I better scribble the few notes in my head before they’re gone.

“So, where’s our next class?” I asked as I tailed after him.

He seemed to walk at a pace like he’s strolling in a park, as though the time was at his leisure, while I shuffle to my heels, trying to keep up.  I’ve decided that he should be called Giant Pigheaded Baboon, but since he’s being nice for the last 20 minutes, I set the thought aside, saving it for latter bickering purposes. You do know how he is, right? Right.

“The next building,” he said.

I wasn’t able to notice immediately that we were being watched since we got out of the room.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mm,” he grunted.

“Why are they looking at me like they want to kill me?”

His teeth showed. He seemed to be amused at my question. He, then, smirked.

“What’s so funny?”

He looked down, his grin unfazed.

I punched his biceps. Then, he immediately put his arm around my neck and his laughter echoed through the halls.

"You're so annoying, you know that, Alien?" Elliot said.

"And your a Giant Pigheaded Baboon," I retorted.

I was preparing for another quip just in case he says something again, but instead, he just laughed and we walked with his arm chained to my neck.