Sonder

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𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒
/lib-or-oh-sis/ • [𝒏.]

The desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The concept of shifting realities has fascinated me ever since I stumbled upon it on my For You page. Being a self-proclaimed Ravenclaw, I'm naturally curious, especially when a topic is engaging. So in my spare time or when I'm bored out of my mind during my class—like right now—I research it.

According to the shifting community, shifting is an act, or a practice of moving your consciousness into an alternative desired reality or your DR, for short.

I understand it easier by the multiverse theory, which states that there is a version of us in the infinite number of universes simultaneously existing with our current reality. By putting ourselves in a meditative state, we're simply making our consciousness aware of a specific reality. There can be a reality where my parents don't expect too much from me, where I excel in school, or where I'm not obsessed with Fred Weasley and the Harry Potter series.

Meanwhile, the consciousness theory states that shifting is an actual physical experience within our minds. Instead of the idea that you are physically shifting to another real reality, you are creating that reality in your mind by manipulating your five senses while you are in your REM state. Shifters who believe in this theory noted that it differs from lucid or vivid dreams. Time in their desired reality is linear, or it functions the same way it does in our reality, as opposed to when we are dreaming. Time is jumbled or doesn't make sense.

While reality shifting sounds like a cool concept and feels like unlocking a certain level of spiritual or mental skill that one's mind is always limited to, I couldn't help but be apprehensive about it. Does it work? Is it real? Or is it just another way of making my daydreaming disorder worse?

"Miss Saunders," my professor, Dolores Campbell, called in a sweet tone, "Is what's on your phone much more interesting than my class?"

My seatmate and best friend, Aaron, nudged me under the table to catch my attention. Slowly, I look up from my phone and blink at my professor—cheeks slowly reddening when I notice the whole class is staring at me in a mixture of pity and anticipation on how I'll react this time.

It wasn't good that my outbursts entertained them all. Aaron said that my unpredictability and impulsiveness are two things that constantly puzzle him, especially with my short temper and height; I look like one of Gru's minions. It was a running joke with our circle of friends, one that Aaron often spearheaded. Sometimes, he would purposely annoy me because my reactions to things were just laughable to them.

It's good they know how to draw a line and recognise when I am furious. Because if not, they're just assholes at that point.

"No, uh, sorry. I was just looking at the time."

"Perhaps wearing a simple wristwatch would suffice so you wouldn't violate the no phone rule during classes." her lips curled upwards in a smirk, "Plus, evening detention with me for a week."

Her voice was low and sickly sweet, but you could hear the annoyance in it. The look on her toad-like face would be comical if I weren't the one receiving that annoying, condescending tone of hers.

I had to stop myself from groaning loudly and just stare at her a little defiantly. It wasn't enough that she confiscated a few of my books because she said they were morally corrupt overall. She had to single me out whenever she was able to. It was like I was all she could see making a mistake.

Well... she wasn't precisely singling me out without reason.

One time, I accidentally freed the frogs for our Biology class because I was scared of dissecting them. I swear, I didn't know they would band together and hide on her desk the following day! Maybe they recognised their leader and wanted to show their respect.

The look of pure fear on Dolores's face when she saw them was one of the few things that sparks joy in my life.

Another time, a box of fireworks I forgot to take out from my bag set off when we were in the middle of our midterm exams. It was supposed to be a surprise for Aaron's birthday because he kept bugging me for a more explosive surprise. I hope the demanding git appreciated it, however troublesome it was afterwards. It almost burned our entire classroom, and I have been known as Coco Lulu, the arsonist, ever since.

Many weird cases around me sometimes make me question my sanity. Those are just a few on top of my head that connect to Dolores' hatred towards me.

The point is, all of that wasn't entirely my fault. Still, Dolores refused to believe me because of her unknown grudge against me. Try as she might to suspend me, she isn't successful since Aaron always comes to prove that it wasn't my fault. So she opts for an extended period of detention instead.

She looks constipated when she tries to smile like that.

"Shut up before you make it worse." Aaron mutters from the corner of his mouth, "Or else I'll be forced to make her give me detention too to accompany you, and I have things to do after class."

"She reminds me of Umbitch," I whisper once Dolores resumes her class, "That vile and pretentious toad."

"And as much as I agree with your lovely description for both Dolores, you need to stop reading fanfiction during classes." Aaron hissed discreetly as he straightened his round glasses, "Fred Weasley and your smut can wait."

"This is different, Ickle Ronniekins. I wasn't reading fanfiction." I say with a pout, "Ever heard of shifting?"

"That lucid dreaming crap on TikTok?" he questions incredulously, "You believe in that nonsense?"

"IT'S NOT CRAP!" I yelled, not noticing I stood up in frustration. Aaron groans and slams his forehead on his table once Dolores turns in his direction with that same sickly smile.

"One-week detention for you too, Mister Johnson."

"Remind me why I'm friends with you again?" Aaron whispers in resignation when the class ends. "You're such a handful sometimes."

"I ask that myself a couple of times a day too."

The detention was uneventful that evening. It was the perfect time to make my shifting script.

Although a script isn't needed to shift, my disorganised brain cannot take it if one particular detail in my desired reality is as disoriented as me. It was something to focus on, and I love how I can script scenarios on my script that would make Aaron tease me for being too cheesy.

My eyes wander around, and I notice only five students are inside the gloomy classroom.

In the back corner sat a bored-looking, leather-clad boy, his chin-length black hair framing his handsome face as he stared blankly at his left. He has his foot up his desk, chair tipped back slightly while he plays with an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

While on the other corner, a quiet but gorgeous, pale boy with light-brown hair and scars on his face was reading a book. Compared to the one wearing expensive clothes, his were shabby and patched.

In front of us is the love of Aaron's life, Sophie. I wonder what the red-headed girl did to get stuck in detention with morons like Aaron and I.

While Sophie doesn't know Aaron's feelings for her because of his shyness, I can understand why he secretly likes her for three years.

She's bloody gorgeous! I often tease Aaron about how Sophie looks and acts like a Disney princess because she's so patient and kind to many people.

So, I assume that her being here is not a fault of her own; instead, it has something to do with Dolores and her unreasonable mind.

For the first two days, we all tried to get a feel of each other's personalities. Aaron and I mostly kept to ourselves to avoid Dolores extending our detention. But when it was clear to me that the others also loathe the professor and her existence simply by the way they glare at her whenever she is in the room, I knew that at that point, I needed to get to know them.

"I never thought I'd see the day Andrew and Sophie will be in detention," Aaron jest beside me, "It must be Christmas."

"So that's his name." I reply, glancing at the lanky guy on the left corner of the room, "I suppose you also know who that lad is on the other side of the room?"

"Benjamin. Rich bloke, lots of daddy and mommy issues." Aaron quips, moving closer to whisper, "I heard he had a fistfight with his brother, Timotheé, the other day. That's why he's here. Those two," subtly pointing at Sophie and Andrew, "on the other hand, are a fascinating mystery."

"We can hear you, you know. And it's Ben." Ben interrupts with an amused tone, tucking the unlit cigarette behind his studded ear, "As much as it amuses me that you are gossiping about my family issues, I want to clarify that my fight with my brother is not why I'm here."

Aaron, Sophie, and I whip our heads in his direction curiously.

"Figured you nosy lot were curious. That troll caught me snogging him," he casually points at Andrew, who hides his blushing face behind his book. Ben laughs at our gaping faces, "No point in hiding it since we're spending a lot of time together this week."

"Louise Saunders." I introduce myself, grinning at him and offering a knuckle as a form of support, which he happily bumps, "Always knew that Dolores was a homophobic bitch."

They were quite an odd pair, to be honest—opposites to each other if you were just comparing their appearance and behaviour. But by looking at the two, with all their secret warm glances and undeniable sexual tension, you would know that it was something more serious than what our naked eyes allow us to see.

"And you three?" Ben clears his throat after an intense staring session with Andrew, motioning his index finger between the three of us, "What got you landed in detention?"

"Her inability to behave herself," Aaron answers for me. "I just got roped in because of her temper."

Ben looks at me in awe before throwing his head back, barking a laugh—almost teary-eyed—while Andrew and Sophie giggle. If it weren't for Ben already saying that he had snogged Andrew, I would assume that Aaron's glare meant something.

"As if you wouldn't find a way for Umbitch to give you detention to accompany me," I mumble shyly.

"Hard for me to believe that you don't cause mayhem on your own," Ben says to a snickering Aaron, "Doesn't look like you're sorry you're here too."

Aaron shrugs cooly, confirming Ben's assumption.

Dolores came in shortly, and the rest of our detention was as dull as her teaching capabilities. After she dismisses us, we all share a reassuring look that indicates that detention after class would be bearable because of this newfound friendship and camaraderie, even with a toad like Dolores.

"You read the Harry Potter series as well?" Andrew queries softly the next day once he sees me sketching the exterior of the Weasley twins' shop to pass the time, "Not a fan of the author, obviously, and the whole series has a lot of plot holes. But, overall, it's a pretty decent read."

I decided to make Andrew my best friend that day. He was a rather interesting fellow—soft-spoken but intelligent conversationalist. Sometimes, Ben would rile him up because he said he enjoyed seeing Andrew blush, but it was clear who was more dominant in their relationship. More often than not, Andrew would be the one who ends what Ben started, leaving the latter a blushing mess.

We ended up discussing the books with Sophie, who I learned is also an avid Harry Potter fan. Ben tried to include himself in the conversation. Still, once he realised that the discussion was more book-based and not movie-based, he turned to Aaron, who gladly accepted a conversation about Rugby.

The discussion went from the books to our common enemy, Dolores. During our conversation, we learned that Sophie got detention because she asked too many questions about her teaching method.

As someone as logical and passionate as her with her studies and maintaining good grades, she doesn't understand why Dolores would instruct them to copy equations from their textbook without explaining it. Apparently, that had been going on for a few months. And as much as they enjoy not hearing the toad croak every now and then, it got Sophie thinking if the woman knew the subject or just showed up every day so she could collect a paycheck.

This pissed Sophie off. So she was the one who asked what everyone in her class was afraid of asking. As their argument got heated, she said a few things that would make Ron Weasley's temper look like a kitten next to a lion. She'd be suspended if she had been a re-offender. But since it was her first time arguing with a professor, she only got detention.

"Not that I wouldn't understand it or anything, but the subject is Algebra!" Sophie exclaimed to Andrew and Ben, "What about others who can't understand the subject just by reading or writing it? When the school year started, I promised myself I'd help my classmates to keep their grades up. How am I supposed to do that if that bloody skank won't teach us anything?"

"Might want to stop looking at Skelton with those googly eyes of yours, Johnson. Or the Princess will notice." I lean over and whisper to Aaron when I catch him staring dreamily at the redhead, his chin resting on his palm.

Aaron shakes his head before sighing and glancing at Sophie once more, "She's just so perfect, Lou! She's so beautiful it hurts. Not to mention, she's smart, passionate and bloody brave too! I think I love her."

"First of all, tone it down, weirdo." I warn, making Aaron blush in embarrassment, "Second, why don't you ask her out? I'm sure that she'll say yes! You're a catch."

"I wish I'm that confident. Maybe in a different reality, I am." Aaron says hopefully, "But here, you know I don't handle rejection well."

My eyes empathetically soften for him. It baffles me that underneath his confident stride and easy-going personality, Aaron was someone who guards his heart well. That's because he has so much love and loyalty to give. I assume that it was because of the neglect he experienced from his parents while growing up. Even though they spoiled him rotten, all he ever wanted was their attention, not the riches they had on their banks.

When Dolores arrived, we all separated into our respective corners of the room. We learned over the week that the woman despises any activity that would amuse or even remotely entertain us while we're in detention. So she makes us do lines until our time with her ends.

It also allowed me to perfect my Harry Potter DR script, as she would leave the room once she gave a task. I do it subtly and ensure I finish what she'd given while writing my script so she wouldn't have any reason to single me out again.

Once I was in the section where I was describing my backstory and familial relationship with Harry Potter, I looked up. I glanced around the room, laughing softly at my observation.

"What?" Aaron hisses to my right, "Are you finally becoming mental?"

"I just—" I giggle, "I just noticed how similar you all are with how I picture what each Marauder character would look like."

Sophie arches an eyebrow in my direction, "How so?"

"Well... you, for starters, is how I picture Lily Evans. While Ben and Andrew are Sirius and Remus, respectively." I grinned when I saw Andrew nodding, "And then Aaron is—"

"James Potter." Andrew finishes, amused at seeing Sophie's blushing face, "Figures you're a Wolfstar shipper too."

"Who are the marauders? They sound like a bunch of daredevils." James intriguingly said.

"Basically, they are what the Harry Potter fandom calls Harry's parents' group during their time at Hogwarts." Sophie explains, avoiding his gaze, "There are lots of fans who brought life to them by writing fanfiction about their adventures and mischiefs from when they were students up to the first chapter of the first published book."

"Hold on," Ben interrupts, looking solemnly at Andrew, "This Sirius dude, is he a good-looking chap?"

"Oh, he is." Andrew replies, making Ben frown, "But you're much cuter."

Ben leans back on his chair with a satisfied smirk, crossing his arms. "So, Sophie and Aaron are married in this group?"

"Yup," I say as I continue to write in my script, popping the p, "Although Aaron's personality is the opposite of James'."

"How so?"

"Well," I yawn, suddenly feeling sleepy and tired, "James Potter would continue to pursue Lily Evans until she says yes. He's persistent like that."

"Interesting." Ben says suggestively towards Aaron and Sophie, who are blushing and avoiding each other's eyes, "I never pegged Johnson as the shy type of guy. But I'll gladly be your wingman if you pursue Sophie the James Potter way."

Andrew throws a piece of paper at Ben to divert his attention from the two. Then whispers harshly, "Don't be so dense, love."

"What? What did I do?"

The paper Andrew threw lands near me. Curiously, I pick it up, smooth it out and silently read the contents. It looks like Andrew was trying to write a poem. There were many crossed-out sentences in each stanza, but the ones he decided to keep were underlined or circled. One particular phrase catches my attention.

Who is she in our lives if we are what she says we are?

I rest my cheek on the cold surface of my table and stare blankly in front of me, tuning out my friends' voices until they barely murmur in the background.

Who am I, indeed, in this scenario? I thought. With me unintentionally opening up a path for Aaron to express his harboured feelings for Sophie, I assume I'll stay as his best friend once things progress and they start to date. By looking at Sophie's reaction to Ben's suggestiveness, I wouldn't be surprised if it happened sooner. As I mentioned, Aaron is a catch.

I never really thought of Aaron as someone I'll ever be romantically involved with. But the idea of him and Sophie dating was surprisingly unsettling. Call it what you want, but I'm selfish when it comes to the people I deeply care about. Aaron and I have been in each other's life for as long as I remember, and not having his undivided attention is something I'm not used to.

I gaze at my laughing best friend one more time before I close my eyes and drift to sleep, thinking about a reality where Aaron and I aren't best friends. Yes, I know. I'm dramatic like that.

But looking at it from another point of view, it saves me from heartbreak and disappointment. The expectation of someone always being by my side would lessen, the realisation of them slowly forgetting about me wouldn't be so painful, and the feeling of guilt about being selfish when they have every right to find someone to love and be happy with that's not me wouldn't be a burden on my shoulders.

I sigh deeply and relax my body. As I was drifting off, I set my intentions and kept affirming to myself:

I am in the process of manifesting my desired reality.
I choose to see with love.
I am in my sanctuary. I choose to stop worrying.
I let go of any negative and limiting thoughts I have.

I don't know when I started to drift off, considering the awkward position I was in when I closed my eyes. My mind wandered to many thoughts, but I managed to bring it back to focus.

It felt like I had barely slept when someone suddenly shook my shoulder.

"SAUNDERS, WATCH OUT!" a desperate feminine voice warned.

My eyes immediately open, and my body jolts at the chaos. The next thing I knew, a bomb-like contraption exploded near where I was seated, and I was on my arse. At first, I was a bit disoriented and questioning what the fuck was going on.

A thick, swamp-coloured fog fills the room, drowning my lungs and making me cough. A putrid stench of what I can closely describe as a mixture of rotten eggs, poo and other unpleasant stench was poisoning the air. My eyes were stinging at that point. I heard many people around me coughing and scrambling to leave the room. I followed them since it was the most logical and viable thing to do.

Once the coughing and the stinging in my eyes subsided, the confusion hit me fully. Around me, a lot of people were wearing dark, long robes. Most of them were wearing different coloured ties that ranged from red, yellow, blue and green.

I had to process what I saw and slowly take in my surroundings. So I made a mental checklist to confirm my suspicion.

- Stone walls, a vast courtyard and a castle structure outside. Check.
- Students wearing robes—a few of them wearing ridiculous pointy hats. Check.
- Someone instructing someone to get McGonagall, Flitwick or even better—Dumbledore. Check.
- A grumpy, almost balding, old man cursing at a group of students as he chases them with a cat in tow. Check.
- A ghost squealing and enjoying the chaos that's happening. Check.

I haven't had time to feel the triumph of successfully shifting when I hear the laughter of the students getting chased by the grumpy caretaker.

"TERRIBLY SORRY, LULU!" says a lanky boy as he breezes past me.

"WE TOLD PRONGSIE NOT TO AIM AT YOU—" a long-haired boy explained briskly—kissing my cheek while he passed—as he sped away to catch up with the lanky boy.

"—BUT HE COULDN'T RESIST—" another added, "HE SAID YOU LOOK TOO PEACEFUL IN YOUR SLEEP!" a chubby boy exasperated breathlessly, lagging not too far from the two.

Then, a peal of boisterous, carefree laughter followed. My heart wanted to leap from my chest when the familiarity of the boy wearing glasses and a red and gold necktie kicked in. Obviously, he was distracting Argus Filch with how he was goading him as they ran, taunting him by increasing his run whenever the caretaker shortened their distance.

The energetic boy looks so beautiful with a broad smile on his face, his robes flapping with the wind and the sun's glow making him shine.

"POTTER!" Filch bellowed, "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON ALL OF YOU!"

Too stunned at seeing James Potter and the Marauders in the flesh, it didn't register that he was running directly at me. It was too late for him to manoeuvre around me and for me to step aside because the students around us were like ants running all over the place to avoid getting wet by Peeves' water balloon.

Then we collided.

And for the second time in my short time here, I was on my arse, again.

The difference was... a stunned looking James Potter, and his lips were on top of mine.

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