My Fake Boyfriend

The school bell, a harsh herald of freedom, finally rang at three o'clock, signaling the end of another week. I meticulously gathered my papers, stuffing them into my binder with a sigh of relief. The weekend stretched before me, a precious expanse of time free from the relentless grind of high school.

I remained seated, waiting for the stampede of students to subside, preferring the quiet aftermath to the chaotic rush. When the hallway was clear, I offered a tired wave to my teacher and trudged out, the fluorescent lights casting a bleak glow on the deserted corridor.

Friday. The last day until Monday. It should have been a joyous occasion, but for me, school was a horror-ridden nightmare, amplified by the pervasive loneliness. I reached my locker, throwing my books inside before pausing to examine my reflection in the small mirror attached to the door. My brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing my face, framed by two brown, doe-like eyes. I sighed, a familiar wave of self-disappointment washing over me at the blatant lack of effort I put into my appearance each morning.