20:10… I’ll have to use the back door, all the others should be locked by this time; fucking director. The feeling is a nutty mixture of many things, but with respect to the test, I’m like a lab rat at this moment. We would like to know if the money and effort on you are in vain. Yeah, right. Strangely enough, I scored pretty great on all the subjects, essay and interview; the deal is up and I’ll keep the full scholarship. I’m less tired now than when I woke up, but so hungrier. Don’t remember the last time I saw the school at night, usually, I’m the first person to go home; sometimes don’t even bother to show up. Well, if it was always like it is now, I would gladly be here every single night. Some loud, droll noises dripping from the outdated drinking fountains along broken fuses here and there, making the lights fail — give that dense atmosphere to the place — and the element of surprise, some awkward chanting and singing between corridors — probably janitors. What else could someone like me desire? The perfect school isn’t a matter of location nor personnel, but timing. If it wasn’t for the grunts of my stomach, I would spend hours meddling with the locked places of this building. Better to get going, though. If anyone dares to poke my shoulder or speak with me again I swear to god… too much for a day.
The secondary gate is open, nice. This is where the teachers and employees park their cars. Here’s also the place people dump trash, very organized; distant from the entrance and vehicles area. Open air, at last. I’m compelled to inhale deeply; it’s pleasurable, way over odd to a hikikomori like myself. No hurry, even though my belly cries. The sky looks nice this evening, full of stars… maybe I should observe them when home.
Just what the fuck could this be now? This day can’t get weirder, please. As I cross by the side of some big trash boxes, it continues “Oh, ruru, ha!” Similar to a daxophone. There it is, a funny figure; almost cartoonish. In the center of the parking lot, jumps and crouches, exploring the place with these noises, searching for something. I keep watching, behind a box. Didn’t seem to notice me. Illuminated by a bunch of failing light posts, some clumsy turns and shifts reveal a long braid, which under the yellow fading lights seems pink, losing color to a pale yellow. Wait… boy or girl? The clothes are unisex: jeans jacket over a black shirt, not showing much; loose pants and a black straight flap cap with some white engraving. Ops, he/she is looking in this direction. I’ll have to do this…
“Hey, what are you doing here at this time?” I ask, getting closer. Hands up not to scare the person. Today I learned nothing about suspicious persons in suspicious places. Closer now, I grasp dimensions by intuition: A little shorter than me, about 1,67m I would say, very thin. Sharp eyes, head rotated towards me, like an owl.
“You answered my call!” Pop-eyed, gleaming. Dilated pupils, ecstatic smile; playing with both hands in the air. High, maybe?
“Are you high?” The words just slip; hope doesn’t offen–
“Of course I am!” Fast answer, jumping over to a hug. “How else would I be capable of performing so grandiose a ritual?” Speaking in a low tone, mouth close to my ear. It tingles. Releases me and starts to make pirouettes, like a dancer — disjointed one. Two crazy events in one day. The person, then, shifting glances between me, the lights and cars, starts, again, to make noises.
“These noises,” I ask, a bit hypnotized by the strangeness and cuteness “are part of the enchantment?”
“Ritual, silly.” Fisting my chest, no much effort put in the punch. “They’re my sonorous sigils. You should know that.” I can’t leave this person here…
“What’s your name?” I ask, regretting already.
“You can call me Eli. Curf.” Staring at me with big wasted eyes while playing with my hands. Physically weak smile printed on face, but the effect of it on me, emotionally, is not so weak.