I read up on "If You Come Softly" on the bus the next morning when my seat is greeted by Mallory. She's trying to tell me about some dumb story Kyle Nappi told her about a shopping cart in a tree, but I act like I can't hear her. Then, she takes notice that I'm almost done with the book, but again nothing comes out of my mouth. It's not that I have nothing to say, but I don't have the words to say what's on my mind, and I figured my best cover-up came in losing myself to a good read.

The bus ride is only 15 minutes normally, but it feels way longer today. The walk to our lockers makes time go snail-pace at this point because there's still nothing of a conversation happening.

"So, you never called last night," Mallory starts up. She drops a pencil bag from her locker, but I miraculously catch it with my foot, kick it up to myself, and hand it back to Mallory, no words said. Mal shakes her head and shuts her locker door.

"Okay," she sighs, then reaches into her jeans pocket. "I have a Reese's cup for anyone who can answer when the French Revolution took a –"

Before she finishes her game-show-worthy question, I take the Reese's from Mal and unwrap it. It shouldn't be this easy to coax me with candy, right?

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask flatly.

"Well, the answer I was looking for was 1794, but –"

"Why didn't you tell me Havana was good at math?" I get straight to it. If anyone should know, perhaps the Havana Sommers encyclopedia will inform me.

"Uh... because I thought it was common knowledge?" Mallory answers, confused. "I mean, Havana's been on mathlete teams since, like, forever –- winning teams! The whole school knows this."

"Mm, right, the whole school," I click my tongue. "Well, clearly a student was left out of the equation."

"No pun intended," Mal quips. I shoot her a "Really?" look. "Wait, I don't get it, why are you..." Her voice trails off, and she shoots me a look. I dart my eyes away to the floor, and when Mal puts two and two together, she gasps like she's discovered the whereabouts of the Loch Ness monster.

"Oh. My. God. No way!" she claps. "No freakin' way! That is so cool!"

"No, okay, it's not 'cool'," I sneer.

"Why not? Havana is the perfect tutor!"

"Ha, right."

"What, was she like, hard on you or something?" Man, I really wish that were the case.

"Not exactly ...." 

*****

I take Mal back to yesterday afternoon, right as Havana drops the bomb on me that she would be my trigonometry tutor.

"You? Y-You're my tutor?" I stammered.

"That's right," Havana answered coolly.

"B-but Ms. Carmone said she would get one of her students to do it," I told her.

"Yeah, I am," Havana lays on me, seeing my visible confusion. "Carmone teaches both Trig and Advanced Calculus, and I fall in the latter, of course."

Of course? Of course?! I wasn't aware at all that Ms. Carmone taught two classes, much less knowing that Havana was in one of them! Now I understand better what she meant by being "occupied" with too many things. And more than ever I'm more pissed that the school district couldn't even afford a separate teacher.

"So, where do you want to start?" Havana asked, rubbing her hands together. "Can I see what you've been working on –"

"I, uh, listen –" I trip on my words. "I'm feeling pretty sick, actually... uh, time of the month for me, and I get pretty bad migraines when they come," I explained to Havana.

"Oh, sure, I understand! We can start this up tomorrow," she replied. And that's when I nodded my head and stumbled out of the Purgatory Room.

*****

Once I finished catching Mallory up, she damn near burst into tears from laughing. Add that to the list of things I both admire about her and feel incredibly flustered from.

"No way you actually said that!" Mallory laughs. "She's lucky she doesn't know your period ended three days ago."

I stop in my tracks, flabbergasted. "And how would you know that?"

"Uh, 'cause you don't stop syncing out of the blue after three years," Mal says in her matter-of-fact tone. See, and I knew that too, but my mind's been scrambled through the better part of the last 15 hours.

"Hold on, so what's the issue for real?" Mal goes on. "I mean she's someone you know and someone you li... well, someone you know!"

"It's just weird," I briefly explain. "I don't know, I could've had anybody. I could've –"

"Hi, Zora," Yazmin greets me as we walk past her. That same shiver runs up my spine at the mention of my name. I wave meekly at her, and then I shoot up, looking back at her.

"Her. Yazmin is the best student in my class, so she easily could've done it!" I insist to Mallory. Mallory and Yazmin don't know each other well, but Mal does recognize her academic prowess.

"Maybe Ms. Carmone figured to have someone who already learned all the material?" Mallory suggests. That's certainly the most plausible theory, I'll give her that.

"Whatever it was, I just need a new tutor," I say.

"Hold up, hold up – you just got a great deal and you're gonna give it up because... it's 'weird'?" Mallory jabs. I try to shrug in a way that she believes me, but she totally doesn't buy into it. Then her eyes grow sadly, and a pang of guilt enters my system.

"Is it... because of me?" Mal inquires. I bite the inside of my cheek.

"N-noooooooo."

"Oh my god ..." Mallory exhales.

"What? Worried I wouldn't put in a good word for you?" I cringe once I hear myself. What a dick move. Mallory furrows her brows at me and puts her hands on her hips.

"This shouldn't involve me at all!" Mal semi-shouts. "I just want what's best for you, Z! For your education!" she huffs. "Great, now I sound like our principal!"

The bell rings before she can read me any further.

"Looks like the school Gods are granting your wish, Ms. Setiawan," I joke half-heartedly.

"Zo, promise me you won't do anything stupid," Mal requests.

"Mal, me being stupid is the whole reason I'm in this mess."

"Watch it!" Mal yells. "Don't ever say that about yourself. Ever." Now she's pissed, and I'm kicking myself for causing it. "I got to go. See you later?"

I weakly extend my hand, and Mal and I dap up like usual, but not with the same feel. I know the self-deprecation soured the mood; Mal hates it when I do it, and I've worked consciously on it but sometimes I let it slip. The frustration with myself and this whole thing is messing me up, and what's worse is that the one person I want to put up a brave front for is the one I'm keeping the biggest secret from.

I know she wants the best for me, because who wants to see their best friend fail? The problem is that I can't let on the true reason why I don't want this arrangement to happen, even if I almost let it slip just now. It can only end in one of two ways – one, I say exactly what I feel, and she gets mad at me for allowing my feelings to stand in the way of my education; two, I say exactly what I feel, and she gets mad at me for taking up the tutoring deal for her more than me.

For the next four classes, I put it behind me and do what I know best – stake my place on top of the student pyramid.

*********

By the time lunch rolls around, the tension of the morning washes away. It's lucky Mal and I have A-lunch, so the uncomfortable mix of dread and hunger doesn't have to culminate for an extra 50 minutes. Mallory is telling me about the documentary she watched for her Nutrition class, squirming as she recounts the details of how chickens have grown three times their size in the last 60 years as a result of the altering chemicals we've used on them. Terribly, we both agree that even withstanding that knowledge, we can't imagine giving up our omnivore lifestyles (even with the mystery meat in the taquitos oozing on my plate).

Before we make our way outside, a swift, peppy Jhene swoops in front of us. A "play nice" smile is plastered on her face, and Mal and I exchange looks seeing right through it.

"Hello, baby sister," Jhene creaks.

"Hello...?"

"Did you do what I asked?"

Mal rolls her eyes. "Ugh, yes, I've handed out 89 flyers to my peers so far."

"Great," Jhene chimes. "Do you need more?"

"What the –- no, I don't need more!" Mallory shoots back impatiently.

"Do you need some?" Jhene turns her attention to me. It takes everything in me not to laugh in her face right now because the lack of awareness is comical.

"You really think I know 89 people? Or 8?" I ask.

"Okay, fine," Jhene sighs, walking away annoyed. It dawns on me how much I see her anywhere else in the school but a classroom.

"I can't believe she's making you go to the game," I tell Mallory.

"Eh, it's not her so much as it is my parents," Mallory explains. "You know, proud family thing or whatever."

"Yeah, I get it," I say, although it doesn't so much apply to me at the moment. We settle by the outside D-Hall vending machine, where not only do I exchange my milk for Mal's taquitos, but I lend her my book now that I've finished it. Mal claps her hands excitedly, and hey, with my experience with the book now I'd say those claps are well deserved.

"Wow, big taquito fan?"

As if this day couldn't bear to let me avoid conflict, Havana stands before us, her body just blocking the Sun out of Mallory's view but right into mine. I wonder if this is some sort of cosmic intervention for my less-than-stellar attitude as of late.

"Oh, well I don't like them, so we do a little exchange!" Mal explains.

"Sick," Havana notes. "Uh, can I steal Zo for a moment?"

Mal and I exchange looks. If I'm being honest, I'm still waiting for both of them to fess up to an elaborate ruse, but Mal looks as perplexed as I feel.

"Sure...?" I answer, rising from the pavement. I nod to Mallory that I'll be right back, and then I follow Havana inside. We stop just outside the ROTC room, and my body's tension is gripping every fiber of me with the forcible strength of a boa constrictor. Outside of yesterday, this is the first time I've talked to Havana on my own, but after yesterday's run-in, I'm not so spoiled for choice as to what the conversation will be about.

"So, I just wanted to see how you were feeling," Havana starts. I wanted to tell her that I was starving and wanted to cut the small talk, but it clicked that it wasn't a one-off question. According to me, I'm supposed to be experiencing nausea from my period right about now.

"Oh, that!" I jolt. "Right, well, I feel fine. Hell, pop two Tylenol and I'm all good."

"Right, that's good to hear," Havana chuckles. "So, listen, do you have anything you want me to look over before we meet up later?" Huh, straight to the point. It's not surprising in the way that I didn't want it (obviously), but I guess I hadn't expected it from her.

"Um... no. No, I don't think so," I respond.

"Oh, okay. I'm just making sure so –"

"Yeah, got you but I-I'm fine so..."

You've heard of the phrase "tension so thick you can cut it with a knife". Step on up, folks, for this tension is so impossibly thick Paul Bunyan himself would need to rise from the dead to hack it down.

"Cool," Havana says, a tinge of defeat in her voice. "Well, I got to get back to class. Enjoy your lunch!"

"Thanks." Recently, I've been pushing the limits of my asthma, and once Havana walks away, I feel like I've woken up from lung replacement surgery. I take a deep breath and walk back outside to join Mallory for the remainder of our lunch period.

"What did she want?" she asks.

"Ah, nothing. Just tutoring stuff," I answer, for once not fibbing the truth.

"Gotcha." I see Mal's leg bounce a little in anticipation.

"Hey, so what else did the documentary talk about?" I avert the subject.

"Oh, let's not ... I'm not sure I can stomach it..."

"The way I can't stomach your enjoyment of milk."

"Dairy is good for the soul! And bones!" Mal scoffs.

"Cheese maybe, yogurt is delicious, and ice cream used to be my best friend but ... straight-up cow juice? Eugh," I revile.

"Oh, whatever!" Mal laughs, chugging her milk then sticking her tongue out at me, the top of her lip lined with the cutest milk mustache you ever did see.