"Ah! Damn metal...!"

"Yeah, probably not a great idea to eat ice cream a week after getting braces."

"Uh-huh, says the one who may or may not be lactose intolerant."

"It's sherbet, I think the fruit juice cancels it out."

"Well, the gas smells the same."

I shoved Mallory at that nasty comment. I remember this all too well; it was last summer. It's a lot to say for it only being a year ago, but things seemed so much simpler back then. Just to eat ice cream, watching it melt as fast as we did on the sidewalk in that treacherous heat. Nothing to look into so deeply. 

"God, I need these things off," Mallory whined. "What if I wanted to ask someone out and they wanna go for an ice cream date? How embarrassing ..."

It's here I remembered for the first time thinking 'Embarrassed?  Anyone embarrassed by you doesn't deserve you.' Except the usual feeling of defense for my best friend instead showed itself as a feeling of ... envy? Because I knew that I'd never be embarrassed by Mallory, even if I had to take her on that ice cream date myself. To think someone else could never even cross my mind... why was that?

I bit my lip. "Well, do you?"

"Hm? Do I what?"

"Do you ... want to ask someone out?"

I'm not sure what I was expecting to hear. Yes, no, who cares? My tongue burned something bothersome when I asked, and we just stared at each other for a bit. If Mal felt caught off guard, she sure didn't show it. Meanwhile, I had to think hard to myself if I was showing any sort of emotion. I'd never had to do that before. 

"Well..."

BRIIIIIIIIIIIIING.

In an instant, I'm transported from last summer to today's class, which I see is going into a fire drill. I get up from my desk, but when I go to close my notebook, I'm met with a doodle of Mallory. When it comes to my notebook-doodle system, I doodle animals for English, people for Economics, and flowers for Physics (I dare not doodle in my Trig notebook, that's strictly for business). I do it so I have an association with my subjects, like that theory of chewing gum during a test for memory.

The problem is that I'm in Health class. 

*******

I don't mean to speak ill on fire drills, for I find them to be important for the future. I mean, we wouldn't do it if they were useless, right? I just wish this one had been better timed because my Health class is in the Senior Hall, so I'm stuck in a sea of them that, unlike I just asserted, do not take these drills seriously at all! As if that wasn't enough, the walls are plastered with flyers for the upcoming game; I know these are the ones Jhene and her little squad made because of the telltale sign of amateurism: crapload clogs of glitter. The exit doors couldn't seem any farther away.

At the slightest bit of an opening I get, I bump my head into someone. 

"Ack, sorry," I apologize, and then I gasp horridly loud. I'm totally blind! My glasses must've been knocked off, and I'm about to go into panic mode thinking they'd already been swept in the chaos and destroyed. That lasts for all about three seconds, though when I get them handed back to me.

"Sorry about that, Zo!" Oh, that tone. I put my glasses on and the first visual that meets me is a 5'11" stalk of giddiness. 

"Oh, hello... again," I reluctantly greet Havana.

"Hello, again!" she enthuses. Every time I see Havana, she's got this silly smile on her face. It's almost like she's programmed that way, and given she's maybe a shade or two lighter than I am, I wonder if that's how she managed to get a sort of strawberry jam color on her cheeks. 

"Hey, are you coming to the game tomorrow?" Havana asks. If I ever racked my brain as to how she and Jhene could be birds of a feather, I've pieced it together now because ... I get not judging a book by its cover, but if Havana sees the same thing I see in the mirror, then she'd have her answer. Then I wonder why she's asking me, of all things, about a game.

"Did Jhene tell you to ask me that?" I ask. 

"Believe it or not, she didn't," Havana answers. "I was just curious."

"Oh," I note. "Well, I'm not."

"Damn, too bad," Havana clicks her tongue. "Well, if you aren't going, maybe we can squeeze in a session after school today? We missed out the other day."

Ah, and there it is. I had done well with the period excuse the last few days, but I guess my pot of gold finally ran out. I guess mascots don't have to show up to any day-before practices after school.

"Yeah, uh ... listen," I start, cracking each of my finger knuckles in anxiety. Rip it off. Rip. It. Off. 

"I don't know if this is the best arrangement right now."

Havana blinks, cocking an eyebrow and her head to the side. "What isn't the best arrangement?"

"Like, this," I motion my hands between the two of us. "It's ... I just, didn't expect it, and I am not even advocating for this whole thing at all, to be honest."

"Oh." Havana nods her head slowly, pursing her lips in what I think is a disappointment, but she could be pissed -- or who knows, maybe I said the same thing she was thinking and hadn't expected it. Then, as coded in her system, she forms a little smile.

"Hey, I totally understand," Havana says dejectedly. "I hope it wasn't anything I did."

"Oh, no, it's not that," I mumble. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Havana says. "If you ever do need anything --"

Just then, the ground rumbles with the movement of hundreds of feet walking back inside. 

"Yeah, um ... see you around!" I hear Havana amongst the crowd I've become swept in yet again. I turn to meet her direction, just one more time as a proper parting now that I've managed to cut our tutoring ties, but I lose her. 

It may have only been three minutes, but man, talk about the longest fire drill in history.

*******

They say Grade 11 Physics is the easiest Science class, and I agree. Apart from a few mathematics, Physics can be a breeze, and what makes the ride all the smoother is having your best friend along with you.

"On number 3, would that be considered microwave or gamma rays?" Mallory asks whilst we work out our assignment together.

"Gamma," I give a quick answer.

"Well, that was quick!" See?

"Almost as quick as the 'Power Up' footwork," I lead in.

"Gasp! You watched it last night?!" Mallory beams, cupping her hands to her face. The "it" in question is UnDoSieTech's back-to-back performances on late-night TV. I don't make it a habit to watch television past 10 P.M., but last night Mal and I were supposed to watch it over at her place. I couldn't go because my mom wanted to talk to me about ... stuff, but that didn't culminate into anything after all, so I decided to catch up on it right before bed. With the volume low off, sure, but it's my favorite song off their latest album so I hummed it as they danced.

"Ugh! I really hope we can score those tickets," Mallory speaks out to the Universe. "Matter of face, I'm gonna raid my room today and look for things to pawn."

"You're kidding? Wait, what did you get for number 4?"

"I'm so serious, and A," Mallory asserts. 

"I haven't seen you this excited for a concert since we put on a mock Jem concert in the second grade," I tell her. 

"Aht aht, not "a" mock concert, the mock concert," Mallory refutes. "I'm still finding glitter in my backyard!"

Before we can properly reminisce, there's a knock on the door. Ms. Meyer, affectionately known as Ms. Fireside Frizzle, opens the door, and just in my line of sight is Jhene at the other end. I can't make out what she's saying, I can practically see Ms. Meyer's eyes spinning from Jhene's spiel. Ms. Meyer puts a hand up, motioning Jhene to take a breather, then turns in our direction.

"Mallory," Ms. Meyer calls out. Mallory perks her head up, and Ms. Meyer motions her over. I watch her walk to the door, catching a glimpse of her eye roll once she meets her caller. While the Swtiawans talk, I keep working on our assignment so we can get it done before the bell. I flip a few pages in my notebook for the notes we took on currents, but when I find them, I see a few other notes I scrawled on the side from that day glaring at me in pink glitter pen:

*****1st Trig tutor session -- do not forget!!*****

***** DO. NOT. FORGET. >:-( *****

The fire drill conversation from earlier starts flickering in my head. I laser in on when I called the tutoring "an arrangement", which by all accounts it was, but I don't know ... was it a bit cold? Then I think, cold ... it wasn't cold to come out with the truth. I didn't say anything particularly insulting, just clear to the point. I think. It's the image of Havana's face I can't figure out; it's like she showed off her programmed smile, but there was a faltering glitch of hurt. Does someone like Havana Sommers hurt? 

I snap to when Mallory sits back down next to me. She seems ... annoyed.

"Who was that?" I ask, pretending not to know. 

"Jhene," Mallory sighs.

"Oh!" I feign surprise. "What did she want?" I put my pencil down for a moment, ready for Mal to let loose. Anytime it involves Jhene, I let Mallory vent anything and everything she needs to. It's one of those silent understandings that whatever Jhene does to hurt Mal, it hurts me as well, but maybe that also comes from being an only child. 

"Uh, something about a party. I don't know," Mal quickly recounts. She taps her pencil against the desk, each tap of the eraser with a thud of perturbance. This is one of those telling signs not to push the subject further.

 "Ah, okay," I simply answer. "Hey, I need some help on number 8 ..."

*********

I finish up some reorganization between my bag and my locker, then lock it down. Mal is finishing up herself, still not talking much. Whatever it is Jhene told her, it must've crossed a line. Sad that I expect nothing less when it comes to that.

"Oh, are you almost done with my Econ notes?" I ask. "I don't need them now, but tomorrow I will."

"Maybe," Mallory talks shortly. 

"Oh." I feel a chill run through my body. It's no fun seeing and hearing Mal so upset, but again I don't want to provoke anything about it unless she's ready. 

"So, tomorrow," I start, pulling a five-dollar bill out of my wallet. "You think you can buy me some of that Kettle Corn at the game?"

"Sure," Mal answers, then she slams her locker door. Loud as it was, I didn't jolt at the sound but rather the death stare she was giving me. "If you tell me you didn't quit tutoring with Havana."

My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, and I can't even gulp. 

"I don't need the popcorn that bad ... darn kernel skin," I try averting.

"So it's true?!" Mal snaps.

"Where did you hear that from?"

"From Jhene," Mal answers. So that's what she talked to Mal about ... crap.

"A-and where did she hear that from?" I ask without thinking.

"You wanna take a guess?!" Mal huffs, knowing that I know. 

"Fine, yes I did," I sigh.

"How could you quit after one meeting? Hell, not even an actual meeting!" 

"I couldn't do it, okay? I'm just not comfortable --" I stop, thinking carefully about what to say next. " -- with the idea of tutoring."

"So what, Z? You just go through the course barely making it?" Mal lectures. "Or worse, not at all?"

Now I'm getting annoyed. "Why are you so bent on this? It's not like it's your education on the line!"

"My god, do you hear yourself?!" Now we're getting into a screaming match. "Why do I care more about your future than you do?"

"I --"

"No, let me rephrase that -- why do I care more about YOU than you do?"

Oh, that one cuts. I stare her down, unsure of how to respond to that. 

"Those passing comments you make about yourself? 'I'm dumb', 'I'm gonna fail', 'I'm an easy target'," she rants. "What, do you think it's fun to hear that? Do you have fun saying it?!"

All these things she's saying to me rattles my brain. I know Mal doesn't like it when I say things like that, so I try not to. But when did it get to such a point that I didn't realize I'd been doing it? Or so much that she'd been keeping track? 

"I ... I didn't realize ..." I swallowed my hurt yet again.

"I just wish ..." Mal heaves. There are tears glimmering in her eyes. "I wish that you would believe in yourself the way others do. The way I do. The way Havana did to even take this on!"

My body is aching. I'm completely riddled with guilt. And when a single tear falls from Mallory's eyes, I wish God with strike me down right there.

"I'm sorry," I manage to finally speak.

"Don't be sorry to me," Mal quivers. We don't say anything for a few seconds, and that's when I notice the decibels in the hallway are significantly quieter. I want to look down at my watch for the time, but my arm doesn't move. I don't know how to move on from what just transpired.

"You should go," Mal finally says. "The bus is probably leaving soon."

"You ... aren't coming?" I ask. I know there's an awkward ride to come, but I don't feel what happened should warrant missing the bus over.

"Jhene is taking us straight to the stadium," Mal explains. "She wants me to go so I can relay to my family where we're gonna sit. Something about needing the best view for the best show or some BS."

"Oh. Right," I note. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?" 

"Yeah."

This is the part where we dap up and go on our way, but neither of us makes the move. The weight of Mal's words, at this moment, outpace gravity itself. I feel totally nauseous, and nothing but the walls of my room see me the rest of the day.