Everyone has a story to tell and this is a part of mine.

I was in high school at the time and still went by the name Mimi, but my real name is Hyemi. At my school, just like any other, there was a hierarchy amongst the students.

I was somewhere around just below halfway, I was always fine with that. I didn’t really care. None of my friends went to this school anyways.

They all attended other schools but we still hang out almost every afternoon and weekend, except for the odd times when we have a prior engagement.

The hierarchy at my school was like a food chain, and the top dog was to be this year’s Prom King. His went by the name Baro, his real name I never really cared enough to learn but I would watch him from time to time. It’s kind of hard not to when every second day he breaks up with his girlfriend.

He had this whole system of a pattern where he would ask a girl out then on their date together he asks them to be his girlfriend. At which point, the girl before him, will say yes. I have yet to hear of a girl telling him no. Then he dates her for a while and makes her feel special, as though she is the last girl he will date; as though he won’t breakup with her at the end of the week.

But those girls as too naïve, because at the end of the week I sit in the cafeteria reading a book, this week it was The Green Mile by Stephen king, only to look up at the sound of Baro turning his new girlfriend into an ex-girlfriend.

I always put my book down and bring a bag of homemade popcorn to watch these little events. It’s sort of turned into a mini TV drama and I’m on the set getting a front row seat to the premier.

It’s always the same. He brings the girl to sit with him at lunch like they have been doing the past week. I put down my book and pull out a paper brown bag, containing my popcorn, from my back pack. He and his friends exchange smirks; the girl just sits there smiling her head off at her and Baro’s interlaced fingers. I reach into my bag of popcorn and watch as Baro turns his torso to the girl and takes her hands and whispers a few simple words, “It’s over.”

“Wh-what?” The girl blinked.

Ooo, we’ve got ourselves a stutter-er, I thought as I watched the scene unfold.

“We’re over.” As his words left his lips so did the same words silently leave mine; I had been watching these breakups for ages, I knew exactly what h would say, he had become predictable.

I waited for her rebuttal, they usually try to convince him that he is pranking him or that he isn’t serious, but they always loose out. This can be proved by the cry of the new ex-girlfriend running out of the cafeteria to her friends, the girls’ bathroom or her friends in the girls’ bathroom.

But this girl didn’t fight back, and boy do I wish I had a phone to record this, instead she stood in her seat, picked up her strawberry milk. She unscrewed the cap and put it down the back of his shirt. She then pulled on the front of his shirt and slowly poured the strawberry milk down his shirt.

My eyes went wide at the new ex-girlfriend, if I had to say I had a favourite it would so be her. I kept watching and eating my popcorn as she calmly left his table and went over to sit at somebody her and her friends’ table.

Omo, the first not to leave the cafeteria as well, I grinned as I finished up my popcorn.

I don’t know why but I pitied him a little, maybe its because pink isn’t his colour, but I packed my bag and followed him out of the cafeteria after putting my things into my backpack.

The hall we went down was empty so I sped up to walk beside him, “Need a hand?” He stopped and blinked at me. “What don’t wanna accept a girl’s help because every female is inferior to you in your eyes?” I stopped a little in front of him and looked back at him. “You coming or not?”

He blinked at me again and then a sudden smirk came to his lips, I rolled my eyes and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the boys’ bathroom.

It was empty, I already knew it would be, but he yanked his wrist out of my grip anyways.