September 12, 20XX

Today I am alone in the club room. No, it's not because they were all overwhelmed to the point of absence at my awe-inspiring charm and presence. Let me explain.

Shortly after I entered the club room, Mr. Kafka popped his head in, kinda like a mole. So far, I'm always the last student to show up. So, Mark was already in his seat, listening to some music, and Claire was revising notes from some previous class. She's the type of person to accompany her Cornell-style notes with cute illustrations—in contrast to my normally useless doodles. Anyway, Mr. Kafka popped his head in. He had an ususual look on his face. For once, he wasn't smirking like an idiot.

He asked if a girl with highlights showed up recently. Claire said no. She's always the first one there, she says, and nobody else besides the club members and himself showed up. He clicked his tongue and looked sideways. It was an unusual, that look of his. He didn't pull any wild jokes like he normally does, probably because he was pretty distressed. Then, as if self-aware, he plastered a wide grin, fumbled a thanks, and ran down the hallway.

Another teacher scolded him. A comedic bit of bantering echoed back up to us. Claire and I looked at each other and chuckled.

A little bit later, Mark received a call. He recieved a call from family about his kid cousin needing some help with a project, so he stood up, managed something barely resembling an apology, and hurriedly left. Outside of the window, Claire and I chased him out of vicinity with our gazes. He looked serious, in a different way. He was stomping with resolve. You could almost see the fire in his eyes. It was a pleasant surprise.

Who knew Mark had that side of him? Claire and I looked at each other and chuckled.

So, city GHC (Going-Home Club) quickly dwindled from population four down to population two.

So there were two of us. Claire and I passed the time talking about our current progress with studies. I was pretty sheepish about the topic, not going to lie. It's like someone who frequents the neighborhood association talking about his accomplishments with an NBA All-Star. That type of situation is sure to make you feel embarrassed.

She was kind about it, and didn't seem to mind. She seemed to be doing well in school. I am doing alright.

"I am doing alright," I told her with a straight face. I also tell myself that in my mind often: I'm doing alright, I'm doing alright, I'm doing alright, as if I could perform some self-hypnotization to wash away this background uneasiness that seems to plague students far and wide.

So far it seems to be working, and I am content.

We moved onto other things. I learned that Claire may actually be some sort of an airhead. Maybe. Sounds wild, yes, but allow me to present my case.

EVIDENCE 1: She told me a hilarious story about how she tried going to the grocery store one time to pick up some clean almond milk for her mom (she says her mother is nuts about these kinds of things). She was about to drive off when she realized she left her wallet inside the house. She exited her car and tried to get back inside, but then she realized she left the house key inside. The spare that's normally kept hidden under the aloe vera is also in the house, because the aloe vera recently pulled an hasta la vista (it was dead and disposed of). No problem, she told herself, because she kept another spare with her in her car, for these situations. OR SO SHE THOUGHT! Because as she marches back to her car feeling triumphant, she is grave to meet only the god of shock himself, as she unfortunately locked herself out of the car with the key still in the ignition. Her mom was out at a friend's house about 10 minutes away and her siblings were at school for certain club activities, so she was alone. She was going to call a friend when... she also left her phone in the car. So, there she was, alone, without a house key, car key, and most importantly her iPhone X.

EVIDENCE 2: Mr. Kafka occasionally makes adult jokes out of the blue. He doesn't do it on purpose, I think, it just comes out of him, innocently, as part of his charade. Claire doesn't seem to pick up on them, at least not as quickly as you'd expect, and it's kind of comedic. She's doesn't seem to be that type of girl that feigns ignorance for attention points, at least I don't think so. So, there's that going for her.

EVIDENCE 3: Ah, yes, I should mention that she herself said "I'm kind of an airhead sometimes," with a cute wink. That's probably an important detail.

OBJECTION!

Shhhhh, shhhhhhh. No objections in my court, Winston Payne.

After some times passes, Claire looks at her phone and apologizes for cutting our conversation short. She told me earlier, so I already expected this. She is leaving for cross country try-outs. She looked pretty psyched and serious. I told her to break a leg and gave her the good ol' wink and thumbs up. When I try to do it, I don't look nearly as good as Claire.

Claire and I look at each other and chuckle. She leaves mumbling something about treating her to some ramen if she makes it. I didn't get to respond.

So, now I'm here, alone. Population uno. It's actually alright, really. I'm normally chilling by myself. There's a vibe unique to solitude. I think what's much worse and much more terrifying is being in a crowd yet feeling alone. It's a crushing thing. Thus, I enjoy every moment of peace that I can share with the three people I spend every waking moment with—me, myself, and I.

It's easier to concentrate on writing too. Sometimes Mr. Kafka be talking about some really crazy stuff and it would be hard to focus on the journal. Even though he's not here, I still feel compelled to journal. Claire already did hers early. I don't recall about Mark. It's not just because of them: I downloaded this habit tracking app and I don't wanna kill the streak.

Gotta keep the streaks alive.

Also gotta get home before it gets too dark. I almost dozed off. That would've been BAD.

Adios,

Yours Truly,

Still Waiting,,, For New Freakin' Chairs...

Neil A. Velazquez.

P.S. I SWEAR I'm going to develop scoliosis soon if we don't get these damn chairs.