"Why?" I question with a disappointed tone I failed to mask.
"The real question is, why not?" Packer counters with a silly, mischievous grin. The silver scar mark at the edge of his curled lip only added to his animated appearance.
"The honest answer is that throwing Skittles at people and screaming about rainbows is not the best way to recruit people for a GSA." Harmony sighs without a glance up from their sticker-covered laptop.
I looked towards my friends in disbelief. It's crazy how all three of us managed to stay friends with such clashing personalities. I always take time out of the day to appreciate one thing about them; they don't know that I do that. I prefer they don’t cause I would never hear the end of it.
"Maybe you could design a flyer instead?" I suggest adding it to the messy list of ways to recruit people to the first meeting of our Genders and Sexualities Alliance in the library.
"Fine. But I'm handing out Skittles with it. And before Harmony points this out, no. I'm not gonna throw the Skittles." Packer mentions with a slight eye roll, turning to his sketchbook to start on the flyer's design. I couldn't help but chuckle at the answer.
"Thank you." Harmony sings with a victorious smirk at their screen. I rest my chin on the table, deciding it was 'friend appreciation time.' Making a list for possible administrators to supervise our club can wait for a moment. First, my eyes wander to Harmony. I grab a pencil and my grey spiral notebook to start another entry.
October 3rd, 2019
Harmony is a petite and tall Filipino comrade. They have dark brown hair beginning to reach the awkward after stages of an undercut pixie cut. Their brown eyes remind me of the Earth itself. Sometimes it's full of sunshine and rustling leaves, and other times it's a dead forest being beaten down by storm clouds. My friend's personality, however, is very reserved and analytical.
I like that they're always down to listen.
Then there's Packer. I glanced over to his sketchbook, and he already had four design ideas for the flyers. They were listed and roughly sketched.
Packer is a short Mexican male with a peculiar yet fashionable sense of clothing. His hair is as dark as the artwork he decorates on his right hand each morning with eyeliner. The boy's blue eyes are less expressive, but his cupid's bow lips create a smile that battles the crescent moon itself. The first impressions he gives are just the way he acts; outgoing and no bounds with physical human interaction. Harmony and I, sadly, need to deal with his constant hugs and linked arms.
Unlike Harmony, I admittedly enjoy the continuous hugs and linked arms with Packer.
Then there's me. How do I even begin to describe Brendyn Tran? A Vietnamese dude. I have my typical Asian eyes that surprise people with their unusual grey hue. Only one of my cheeks has freckles on them (Mom jokes that God wasn't done painting on my face when I decided to leave Heaven early). My chin is just above Packer's head, and my forehead reaches Harmony's nose, meaning I am at average height.
I'm more on the round and chubby side rather than sharp-looking and buff spectrum. Naturally, I prefer academics over sports, but I don't mind the volleyball from time to time.
I like to think that my fantastic humor and charming looks are what keep our trio together.
How's that for self-appreciation? I'm still working on it.
"Hey, it's time for class," Packer whispers. I perk up from my notebook, hands instinctively covering the page. I didn't even realize that they packed up their things or notice the annoyingly loud buzz of our school bell. While packing my stuff up, I see Harmony stumble slightly in my peripheral vision. Packer helps the human with a gentle hand on their back. I turn towards them and him after packing up my book and pencil.
"I'm one day closer to snapping, I swear." Harmony mutters under their breath, clearly upset. Packer has already attached himself onto the tall human's arm, backpack hanging off of his right shoulder. I fit Packer's free arm with mine, and we begin to walk to our next class, P.E.
"I don't even have to guess who pushed you back there. Dylan and the cousins, again?" I decide to say. Harmony nods, seemingly emotionless like always. The foggy skies behind their eyes say otherwise.
"Permission to throw Skittles specifically at them when we're handing out the flyers?" The short boy suggests, looking to both Harmony and me.
"Wink at them when you do it. Confuse the enemy. Throw paper airplanes to disorient their senses further. Do whatever it takes, Private Perez." I add on seriously, like a commanding captain. Packer unlinks our arms for a moment to salute.
"Yes, General Brendyn, sir! My Skittles are equipped and ready to throw at your command."
Harmony smiles, and the surroundings seem to brighten up again. Moments like these remind me that we're teens with nothing to worry about except identity and school, and I couldn't be more happy about it.
We each go our separate ways into our changing locations, mine being the boys’ locker room like Packer. I exit the lockers first and into the nearly empty gym.
