Do You Get Deja Vu Too?

𝟬𝟰. 𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝗢𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗼𝘆𝘀

｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ✱. ｡✧*.｡✰ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ✱ :｡✧*.｡✰

~ October 2018, Isabel's POV ~

September might've flourished away oh so suddenly, yet October has only proven to creep up righteously and utterly vicious. So far, 7th grade and in person school isn't all its precariously hyped up to be. Though it had been a cruel summer all preposterous season long, I'd prefer rising temperature and persisting sweat over middle school, any day.

I thought that twelve being the last year before the teenage years kicked right in meant that it would be a meticulous golden age. However, it turns out that once you're nearly a teen, there's nothing luminous about it. Instead, it's a great war, that leaves you rusted and grasping for more.

2018 was already an overwhelming year, that lurched right behind and stroked madly. I didn't need more to gravel. But I guess that's the whole jist of the disbanding coming of age experience, right?

As much as I try to play it cool with the best of them, I cautiously avoid any fatal eye contact towards the beloved cliche's of Midnight Junior High. That list included James Walker- the idiot that constantly teased Harry for no good, apparent reason or the fabulous four 'Mean Girls'.

Incoming from the befuddled hallway is my best friend Harry Goldwyn. I wait patiently, maybe he'll notice me against his locker. Shit no, that's stalker behavior. The last thing I'd want is to risk the shot of a friends-to-lovers romance and have it swerve into unrequited love.

I navigated towards his direction, going over quirky conversation starters in my mind. Every time he comes my way, and I think I have something to say, I'm left feeling tounge-tied before he even speaks to me.

" Ah, so there's the star herself. " Harry chuckled, aware of the convenience my honorary hall monitor title is now.

" I didn't choose this town, or this school in particular. I dream of getting out. " I cold heartedly whined. " But at the end of the day at least there's just one who could make me stay all my days. " I stalled to reveal my languishing hope for it all. 

" And who would that idiot be? "Harry inquired as a smirk plastered across his stupidly gorgeous face.

" Oh, just shut up. " I interrogated him. 

" No, you shut the hell up. " He verbally clapped back. 

 I nudged his arm in a playful manner, barely capable of balancing the hall monitor clipboard and songwriting journal. And just like that, my songwriting journal had fallen right to the floor, but this time it wasn't intentional like the last.

Harry scrunched down and picked it up for me, like the true gentleman he is. He softly handed it over to me, nearly laughing at the deja vu that played back in both our minds at that very moment.

" Do you get deja vu too? " Harry bashfully inquired. " Tell me, how are you so good at dropping your journal all the time? "

" Maybe dropping my journal is simply my specialty. " I laughed off how flustered I was feeling, peering around my surroundings. I totally forgot that Harry and I weren't alone and that the warning bell was bound to ring in a few minutes.

During passing period, brutal is naturally the vibe. Malicious like usual, mobs of moody teenagers scattered around the school, constantly clashing into each other.

Before taking off and locking my locker, I clasped onto my composition notebook, which serves as a place where I write here- all my secrets and deepest fears. Sure, it's cliche and unlikely for any 21st century girl to partake in. Of course, I'm no 21st century girl like my cousin Rose Evans, who's basically your blonde white girl.