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Golf Ball ties her hair into her two pigtails, as usual, then rubs lotion all over her face. She blinks blearily, her face looking blurry in the mirror in front of her. She pats the table in front of her, hands hitting the cool metal of her glasses, and pulling them towards her.
She grabs the tail of her shirt and rubs it on the lenses, then slips them on her face. She blinks, getting used to the clarity of the glasses.
These glasses were round and large, and they suit Golf Ball’s own round face perfectly. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if they broke or something — she needs them to see even five feet away.
But, no need to overthink this. Not like they were gonna break anyway.
Golf Ball puts on her jacket, yanking the sleeves down to cover her hand, and slips on her sneakers. She then grabs her backpack and steps into the icy winter.
Snow crunches under her shoes as she makes her way to the bus, already wishing she could fast forward to when she arrives at school. At least next year she could drive to school.
Her glasses fog up as she continues down the hard sidewalk, causing her to have to stick her arms out to make sure she doesn’t run into a tree. It wasn’t very practical, which she valued, but better to be safe than sorry, right?
Eventually, she makes it to her bus stop, and wipes her glasses. She looks around at everyone else, all shivering too. The low was 13 degrees.
When the bus pulls up, everyone crowds at the door, itching to get on. They file in, and Golf Ball takes her seat, immediately sticking her airpods in and turning on her music.
Some people value friendship more than anything. They fake having friends try way too hard. Golf Ball knows that friendship is important, but the quality of said friends is more important than how many you have. Everyone on this bus is fucking annoying, so she doesn’t talk to them. She’d rather wait until she gets to school and can talk to her real friends.
Well, of course, except one person. Golf Ball can’t help but notice him — and know him. He’s a tall senior who used to drive to school, but goes on the bus because his car got taken away.
His vibrant yellow hair also catches her eye every time he walks back. He’s currently the forerunner for valedictorian, and everyday on the bus, he takes his seat on the three seater next to her and always starts reading some sort of book. She knew his name was Tennis Ball — and really, only that.
They’ve had very few conversations, but they’ve always been pleasant. Golf Ball would like to get to know him better, as he seems like a quality friend, but she’s never been the best at interacting with people, especially strangers.
Golf Ball stares out the window, watching the road pass by as they drive to school. 4.5 songs later (seventeen minutes and thirty five seconds later), the bus pulls up in front of B.F.D.High. Golf Ball sighs through the side of her mouth and gets up, about to walk into the aisle of the bus.
She collides face first into Tennis Ball, before stumbling back and looking up. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!”
The taller man smiles warmly down at her. “Don’t be. You can go first, uh, Golf Ball, correct?”
Her face flushes, something she desperately tries to hide. It’s not always that you get recognized by a stranger. “Thank you.”
Golf Ball walks forward, rubbing her nose and cranking up the volume on her music. As she walks towards her locker, she feels a weight push her, and she looks up to see a ball of pink.
“Golfie!” Puffball shrieks, hugging her.
“Hello, Puffball. Would you please put me down?”
“Fine,” Puffball frowns, before stepping back. “Did you hear? Mr. X is out! Free period! Hell yeah!”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Golf Ball says, walking with Puffball to her locker. Golf Ball puts in her pin — 1-3-4, then shoves her backpack in there.
“Let’s go find Fries!” Puffball cheers, grabbing Golf Ball’s hand and yanking her. As per usual, when she gets yanked around by Puffball, her head gets whipped around. On their chase for Fries, Golf Ball’s face hits the same tall figure she did before, her glasses flying off of her face.
She blinks, wrist still in Puffball’s grasp who’s standing up, mouth agape. “Oh no, I’m sorry for bumping into you again.”
Tennis Ball smiles a little, before handing her something that upon feeling, she realizes are her glasses. “You’re totally fine. My fault too.” He gets up, and Puffball helps Golf Ball up.
“Again?” Puffball whispers as they walk, slower this time. “Who’s that hottie?”
“He is not a hottie, and his name is Tennis Ball. He’s a senior on my bus.”
“Ooooh, a senior. I could totally see you two.”
“And now you shut up.”
Puffball giggles. “Alright then. I’m just pointing it out.”
Golf Ball clutches each of her arms with the opposite hands, shivering. “Did we have to go outside?”
“It’s not even that cold,” Fries says in just a t-shirt. His hoodie is on Puffball, who is wearing three hoodies now.
“Not all of us are resistant to the cold,” she mutters, picking up a basketball that rolled to her feet. Fries grabs his and shoots at a basketball foot literally ten feet away, missing the hoop entirely.
“Wow, that was beautiful,” Puffball rolls her eyes, now wrapping her arms around Golf Ball.
“Shut up,” Fries snarks back.
The three of them were wandering around the basketball courts during recess, where the crazy kids were outside, and the smarter kids actually stayed inside. Golf Ball wishes she could stay inside, but Fries insisted that they came out.
Her glasses end up fogging up again, and she can’t see at all. Vaguely, she realizes that she’s going to crash into someone else, but before she can turn, she bumps into a new person.
She stumbles back, before Puffball catches one of her hands. Golf Ball breathes out, letting her glasses unfog for a moment, and sees that shit — she’s bumped into Match.
“Hey, bozo, what was that for?” The girl shrills from where she is on the ground. She scrapes her legs and gets up.
“I’m sorry, Match. It was an accident.” Golf Ball removes her glasses and wipes them, but before she can put them back on her face, Match snatches them from her.
“Oh, Bozo-Brain, do you need these?” Match leans into Golf Ball’s face, eyebrows raised threateningly.
“Wha- yes, I do!” She reaches for them, but Match holds them above her head.
“Nuh uh. You need to watch your step.”
“And how can she do that without her glasses?” Puffball argues, reaching for them herself.
“I dunno. She can figure it out.” Match tosses the glasses over her shoulder to Pencil, who hooks her fingers around the handles.
Fries steps forward. “Guys. Give it back to her, right now.”
Pencil smirks. “Oh, boo hoo. The poor nerd needs her glasses.” Pencil applies more pressure, the glasses bending.
Golf Ball can feel the pressure welling up in her chest. “Pencil! Stop! Don’t break those- please, I’ll do anything! Your homework for a we- a month!”
Pencil hisses something, but Golf Ball can’t hear it over the pressure in her ears. Everyone else is screaming, but Golf Ball is frozen.
Until she hears the snap of plastic.
Everyone falls silent, except for Puffball’s small “shit”.
“What the fuck?!” Fries roars, but Pencil’s already dropped the pieces on the ground. Golf Ball sinks to her knees, reaching for the pieces, fear making her hot despite the snow.
After a moment, the three of them find the two main pieces - and some of the glass that’s broken. Golf Ball feels her hands shaking. How was she to survive without her glasses?
“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, before feeling a hand on her shoulder. She glances up, thinking that she’ll see Puffball, but it’s not her.
It’s Tennis Ball. “Golf Ball… are you okay?”
“Y-yeah… my glasses are just… broken.” She sees his friends — Pen and Eraser — exchange a look.
“Oh my tennis ball factory. Here, come with me. We can fix them.”
Golf Ball nods and follows him, trying to put the glasses pieces together even though they won’t stay without tape.
She doesn’t know where she’s going, not until she feels the warmth of the inside of the school. She glances up, and Tennis Ball smiles.
“C’mon. I have tape in my locker. We can fix it. The lenses look pretty good.”
Golf Ball can only nod, and follow him once more. His locker is on the second floor of the school, as are most of the seniors, and when they get up there and he opens his locker, he rummages through before finding some gorilla tape.
“Who did this?” Tennis Ball asks, plucking the pieces out of her hands.
“These girls in my grade — Pencil and Match. They’re assholes.”
“I’m sorry. We have our fair share of assholes too. If you want me to, I can beat them up.”
“No, I’m totally fine. We’re almost out of school anyway.”
“Fair. Just gotta put up with the shit for one more year, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Tennis Ball hands her back the glasses with a shitty tape job, but they’ll do. Golf Ball slips them on, blinking at how everything becomes clear again.
“Oh, thank you so much! God, I hate not having my glasses.”
“Fair. It’s impossible when I can’t see.”
“Exactly. And I seem to lose my glasses a lot.”
“Clearly. I’ve seen you three times today, and you’ve lost your glasses two of those times.”
“That’s just a coincidence.”
“Coincidences usually have some sort of correlation.”
Golf Ball raises an eyebrow. “Hmm. Someone who actually knows the shit they’re speaking about.”
Tennis Ball smirks. “So it seems.”
Golf Ball smiles. “…why’d you help me?”
“…I dunno. You just seem interesting. Not like most Juniors I know. You seem to actually care about the details of the world.”
“You seem interesting too. Like… maybe someone I would want to be friends with?”
“Yeah. You seem like someone I’d wanna be friends with too.”
They look at each other for a moment, both through lenses, one cracked and one smooth. Then, the bell rings, and Golf Ball stands up, turning around.
“Interesting.”