A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 66 | like dangerous romance

I attended a very popular and unique high school across the country which had strict rules that required all senior students to live on campus.

There was one more aspect about the school which kept all of us on our toes.

The administration had come up with a new rule, creating a huge social divide amongst the students, by making us go through very lengthy and rigorous examinations in multiple disciplines during freshman year, which separated the students into different categories based on how well we did in these exams.

Freshmen were scored on a hundred, and the aggregate score we got on the multiple tests determined which class we had to attend throughout the whole year.

Several categories of students represented the numerous classes in the school's classroom buildings.

My aggregate had landed me in the "middle class," which initially referred to the bourgeoisie before it was later changed to the "petite bourgeoisie."

"The petite bourgeoisie," were prime victims of bullying by the "Elite class."

They had made my years of high school a living hell, forcing me to own a diary.

I had invested in buying a diary because I had no one to talk to about the bullying, no special friends to share my experiences with, talk less about having loving parents who would be concerned about my well-being in high school.

Senior year of high school had been one of the worst years of my life wherein the whole school looked down on us the "petite bourgeoisie."

Even the teachers and the administrative staff bullied us to their fill.

My diary was my only friend.

It was a window to my thoughts, emotions, and experiences.

It served as a personal sanctuary where I could freely express myself and pen down my innermost thoughts.

It reflected my personality and worldview, offering insights into my hopes, dreams, fears, and struggles.

My diary was filled with vivid descriptions of the school campus and surrounding environment, allowing whoever picked it up to visualize the world through my eyes.

It included sketches and doodles that illustrated my creative side.

To add depth and authenticity, my diary contained personal mementos such as dried flowers, ticket stubs, rubber bands, and photographs.

These keepsakes held sentimental value and served as reminders of the significant moments in my life, especially that one time when a guy from the Elite class paired up with me for a science project.

My diary had a very weird cover that was black and messy, adorned with intricate patterns and embossed designs that reflected my lonely aesthetic preferences.

The coffee brown pages were aged and stained with different colors of ink, indicating my miserable history and my long-standing relationship with it.

My diary was a safe space where I could pour out my heart and seek solace.

That was why I didn't even think twice before kneeling on the spiraling pavement to pick up the small pocketbook that had been ruined by the rain.

Someone might have mistakenly dropped it in their quest to seek shelter in this raging storm, and from the look of things, it must have been a little girl.

The cover page was out, giving me a clear glance of the first page which gave me insights into the guy she was crushing on in her science class.

Though the guy's name wasn't included in any of the girl's writings, she had made a bucket list of the things she would love to do with him, and she had gone as far as planning their wedding and naming their kids.