At the other end of my locker slam is Mallory, her mouth agape in shock. It's been like that for what I assume to be 30 whole seconds.

"Ugh, will you stop that?" I plead.

"I just... I can't believe you actually agreed to do it," Mallory says.

"You know, for someone who's been on my case about it I'd thought you'd be a lot happier," I retort.

"Now hold on, I am happy!" she refutes happily. "I think it's awesome, I just really didn't think you'd agree to it. And you know you can't blame me on that."

I shrug, adopting it as a regular habit at this point. "Welp, it's done, so.." We start making our way outside to the bus, and I want the conversation to stop there, but of course, I know that's unrealistic.

"So, like, do you know who's going to do it?" Mal asks curiously.

"Not yet," I say. "Maybe I'll find out on Monday. Well, not 'maybe' since I have to start then."

"Already? Wow... I'm really freakin' proud of you, Z." Mal beams. I can't remember the last time Mal got super excited about anything she couldn't stop smiling, and this is Mallory, the girl who gets excited over everything (not that it's a problem, because duh.)

"Ah... t-thanks," I sputter. I try not to let on that I decided to take up the tutoring when I thought about her because she'd immediately catch on that I wasn't exactly doing it for the right reasons. I mean, yes, I want so badly to improve in math and not let my obstacle get in the way of achieving the GPA I desire, and with it setting a path for my future. Before the 10th grade, everyone makes a big deal of your senior year being the real heavy hitter of your high school career, but in reality, it's 11th grade that begins the stepping stones of what's to come. And by no means is it a slow come-on; as soon as we started the year all I heard is "college this, university that, alternative schools yadda yadda yadda". All that said, again, without Mal's influence I wouldn't be in this position now. I just hope everything pays off, and maybe Mal will be so proud she'll see a new side of me that ... who knows, makes her heart flitter the way she makes mine.

We take our seats on the bus, and the interrogation continues.

"So, uh, you think your mom would approve?" Mal inquires. Really going for the tough questions today, I see.

"Hopefully, she won't have to find out," I tell her, just as I told Ms. Carmone. I see Mal nod a bit sadly, but only a bit so I wouldn't take notice like the mindful sweetheart she is. Then her eyes grow wide.

"You said you start Monday?" she asks. I sigh, knowing exactly what she's talking about.

"Yeah..." I dredge.

"Oh, man! We were supposed to go downtown on Monday!" Mal whines, the bus starting to move with it.

"I know, I'm sorry," I apologize. "But look, you want me to get better at math or see the same astronomy exhibit we've seen 56 times ... and counting?"

Yeah, if you haven't taken notice, Mal and I have this thing where we're absolute geeks and freaks, and one of our favorite pastimes is visiting the Science Museum downtown; it's been our thing since we were 11. As exhibits come and go, we've made it our mission to see them all, and right now there's an astronomy exhibit that, yes, we've seen 56 times now in the last five months. Call it obsessed; I call it observant.

"Hm, sounds to me like you don't need a tutor at all," Mal smirks.

"What do you ..." Then it hits me. The whole "56 times" thing. As if anyone who starts making this a regular habit wouldn't keep track after a period of time.

"Oh, be serious!" I shove her a bit, both of us laughing.

*************

"Kickin' It With You" fills up my room from my boombox. Laying in my bed, I doodle on the back of my English III notebook. I like to reward myself after completing my homework by adding a doodle to the back; it's riddled mostly with animals, now with the addition of a small non-descript puppy. As I finish, I hear the sound of the front door latch. I get up from my bed, walking down the hallway to the sound of jacket removal and purse hanging.

"Hi, Mom," I call. My mom turns to meet my direction. Her worn eyes find a bit of flicker in them. I find a bit of solace knowing that somewhere in there, I can make my mom feel something. What it is, I'm not so sure.

"Hello, Zora," she speaks. I grip the railing... why have I heard my name so much today? It's starting to get on my nerves.

"Uh ... how was your day?" I ask whilst Mom walks past me.

"Not bad... not... bad," she musters. Mom enters her room and plops on the bed, wrestling to take her shoes off with her feet. I wince a little as her scrubs, riddled with God knows what, dirty up her comforter that hasn't been washed in almost two months. It's not her fault, really.

"S-so Mom –"

"Before you ask," Mom cuts me off, "nothing has changed. I can't update you on anything."

"N-no it's not that," I semi-lie. Looks like that's becoming a regular habit too. I scramble my brain for a segue.

"I ... wanted to tell you that I joined an extracurricular," I manage to B.S. Mom looks up at me, no doubt surprised. She's waiting for elaboration.

"Student council," I say. "So ... I might need to stay after school sometimes to help out." Silence. My mom is trying to process it the same way I am... of all the ways to cover up my tutoring plans, I make it about my involvement in Student Council?

"Wow," Mom finally speaks.

"I-is that okay?" I stutter.

"No yeah, that's awesome," she goes on. "I'm happy that you're branching out." Her words are truthful, though her smile is weak.

"Great," I nod. More silence.

"Oh, uh, don't worry about dinner I'll get started soon," Mom says. I'm not really hungry, but I can't muster the words to say it. I could use some of her food right now, truthfully.

"I'm going to go finish my homework," I say.

"Have fun," and then Mom slumps back in the bed, giving me a thumbs up. I close the door behind me and stand in the hall for a moment. This has become routine, but it doesn't mean that I'm left unsure of how to feel. There are a lot of unspoken things between my mother and me that I wish I could just come out and say, yet every day I choke on the words. Not much to do now, I guess, other than to wait for dinner and continued, damning silence.

Walking back to my room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the wall mirror. I pat a few of the knots on my head and click my tongue.

"I got to redo these."

******

The weekend comes and goes, and before I know it, the 4:00 P.M. bell rings. The hustle and bustle of after-school life is abloom in our cramped hallways, a collective sigh of relief for everyone that the day is done. Well, for most of us, that is.

Before Mallory can even jiggle the lock, her locker swings open with a little too much ease. A few loose papers fall to the ground, Mal rolling her eyes as she picks them up.

"I need a new lock – like, yesterday," Mallory snipes.

"I have a spare if you want it?" I tell her.

"Nah, it's cool. We got one replacement for free, remember?" How generous of them when the total replacement of the lockers, dusted and rusted from a 30-year tenure, is out of the budget. All assuming, of course, there is one. When Mal manages to piece her locker back together, an overwhelming burst of loud fills the halls. The Fireside Foxes are "woo woo woo"-ing, banging their chests and waving the school flag rowdily. Amongst the crowd? Havana freaking Sommers. I suppose you can't break old habits easily.

"You think they're excited about their game Friday?" I note sarcastically.

"Hm ... that or they're still celebrating the return of Taquito Tuesday tomorrow," Mallory plays along.

"Like guys, don't spoil your appetite for Flounder Friday!"

"Gasp! How lucky we are to have them part of our world!" That one gets us both cracking up. "Oh my gosh, wait, speaking of 'world'..." Mallory continues, placing her hand in mine. Hopefully, she doesn't feel my body temperature rising.

"Guess who's going on a world tour?" she starts, her braces barely able to contain her smile. Mallory could be talking about anybody given that she listens to everything under the Sun, but I'm guessing this is someone we both take interest in because she looks at me like I'm already supposed to know.

"If I had to take a guess –"

"It's UnDoSieTech! Ahhh!" Mallory squeals, squeezing my hands with the grip of a thousand bodybuilders. "Zo, we have to go!"

I suck my teeth a bit. I've never been to a concert before, and in a crowd of fans like the ones UnDoSieTech has, I'm not sure I want to make it my first experience.

"Yeah ... I-I don't know," I tell her.

"Well, you don't have to say yes now... I'm just saying, hypothetically, you should start saving if there's a possibility of making their October 24th show in Chicago," Mal lets on.

"Chicago? That's –"

"Ten hours away, I know –" she finishes my thought. "However, it could be our best shot to go. Plus, being in Jonny's hometown? Call it fate!" See what I mean? I look at my watch and raise my eyebrows.

"Well, while we're talking about 'going'..." I point out, showing Mallory the time now read 4:04 P.M.

"Oh crap, your tutoring," Mallory gasps.

"You know what? I'd much rather go to that concert right now," I admit.

"Gooooo," Mallory pushes. "You'll let me know how it goes, right?"

"Yeah, but I doubt it'll be any different from class if she got Yazmin to do it," I say.

"She didn't tell you?" Mallory asks, her head shifting to the side in confusion.

"Eh... she 'didn't tell me' ... I kind of 'didn't bother to ask', same difference," I confess. It's not my fault my legs think faster before my brain the moment class is over.

"All I know is that I'm meeting her – "

"Or him."

"... or him," I include, "in the library, so I off I go."

"Alrighty, well call me later if you can," Mallory requests, dapping me up before we part ways. I examine the hand Mallory squeezed with excitement, and I smile. I've known these hands forever now, but I feel as she would if given the opportunity to meet Jonny face to face.

I've got no time to dwell, though, when I step into the library. There are still plenty of students inside, either studying, trying to print a paper last minute, or generally hanging out. It brings me to peace, this library. Whatever the hardships of high school have hit me with thus far, the library allows me to let it go and traverse myself on new ground. On that, I'm no stranger to it, of course, and when I walk up to the front desk, the familiar, happy-go-lucky warm gaze of Mr. Strutter meets me with the same air of community.

"Why hello there, Ms. Agyapong!" Mr. Strutter greets me. "Not that I'm stopping you, but I don't believe your due date on "Speak" is for another week," he grins, the upper right corner of his smile gleaming in gold.

"Oh, yeah, I know. I'm..." I pause. I swivel my head in all directions to make sure no one is listening. No one is, of course, but just a precaution. I bend around the corner of the desk.

"I'm... here for tutoring," I whisper to Mr. Strutter.

"Ah, yes, Loren related that information to me," he nods knowingly. "Well, you can go right in there." Mr. Strutter points to the room affectionately labeled the "Purgatory Room"; in other words, this room is strictly for quiet study and tutoring. It'll be my first venture for such purposes, whereas normally I go in to assist Mrs. Loren at times with various little tasks. I thank Mr. Strutter and he bids me ado, encouraging me to "have fun". Is it an adult thing to say "have fun" at any given time or what?

I close the Purgatory Room door and set my bag in a chair. Reaching for my binder and Trig notebook, I hear some shuffling and high-fiving in the storage room.

"Thank you for the help!" The recognizable drawl indicates Mrs. Loren is in there. I see a few boxes set in the corner; looks like some new shipment of textbooks came in. What they're for I can't quite make out, but I hope they'll be for us incoming seniors next year. I catch someone in the corner of my eye walking out of the storage room – and it's the last person I would've expected.

"Anything for my favorite librarian!" Havana cheeses on. Our eyes meet, and I raise an eyebrow. Favorite librarian? I wasn't aware Havana knew where the library was.

"Oh, hey there!" she waves at me.

"Yeah, hi," I say quickly amongst the ripple of time that seems to have slowed. Havana approaches the worktable and leans against it.

"Do you want me to come over there or just stay on this side?" she asks. I've never been one to hide my facial expressions well, so I worry that I give away my utter confusion right then. What does it matter to me where she goes?

"I... don't know? Whatever you want, I can't dictate your direction." I tell her, taking my seat. I've been in this room for not even a minute, but it feels like days. Here I thought I was late, and yet my tutor sure seems to be taking their sweet time to get here, leaving me to make the most awkward sin of small talk with Havana. I waste no time setting up my homework and my trusty ol' calculator, and Havana wastes no time ... sitting next to me.

"So, where do you want to start?" Havana asks. Boy, I can't wait to tell Mallory whatever inside joke she set me up for is failing in the amusement department.

"Look, I'm..." I trail. "I'm kind of waiting for someone. Okay?" I sure as hell wasn't going to let on why I was here in front of someone of her social caliber. Not that popularity is something I care about in the grand scheme of things, but my dignity is currently teetering on a trapeze line. Above the Grand Canyon. If the Grand Canyon was underwater.

Havana cocks her head to the side, then chuckles. "Oh boy. She, uh, she didn't tell you, I see."

I expect the worst to come. And I mean the worst – an impromptu dance crew coming out of all sides of the room; a thousand maggots being released from a box; my hands and feet being roped together, and my body thrown in the back of a van only for me to be dumped at a barbershop quartet show.

"Uh, well, I'm your tutor. For trig."

A moment ago, I believed my dignity to be teetering on a trapeze line. Upon hearing those words, the line snaps, and it falls to the deepest depths of the Grand Canyon-Sea hybrid. I think I'm giving Jhene a run for her money in the eye-blinking race.

I mean ... huh? Huh?!