There's a bit of sympathy laughter from the audience.

"Yeah, yeah, alright!" Roscoe shoos us off. "What an audience we have this evening! We know you'd probably rather be anywhere else, so your support is very appreciated! Promise we won't keep you hostage for long! " Now that one gets some real laughter from the audience, even the teams on stage. "Cool! Here's how this is gonna work; we've set thirty minutes on the clock. You'll be asked a series of questions and the whole yada-yada, buzz in first type deal. Now!" Roscoe holds up both her hands. "You'll see before you that we have no buzzers, but a stand-in rubber chicken. Just wave her around, like so --" 

"And shout the answer out for your team!" Roscoe chants, dropping the chicken like a microphone to one more BEE! Hmm, she's like the female version of Julian Romero. 

"Now then, who's ready to get their math on?!" Roscoe cheers, waving her hands to motion the audience to cheer along with her. We all send out our best cheers, the Fireside students out-roaring the Spirit students, but still to an ear-piercing decibel all around. Last time I exposed my ears to any cheers was at the football game as I tried yelling over all the noise to talk to Havana. Speaking of, I think Fireside Freddy is heading for a quick break before the basketball season happens. I know she plays him (somehow) for the football games now, but will she continue playing him for other sports, too? Or maybe she'll get right back into the football thing in its off-season.

Huh. Come to think of it, I don't know why she didn't play this season at all. The way she speaks so passionately about it, plus the big deal the school made about her being a part of the team, I wouldn't think there'd be any reason to leave ... right?

"Okay! Let's get it on!" Roscoe commences the practice meeting. "Oh, wait!" She bends down out of view from the audience, rummaging in the podium for something. When she comes back up, hair bouncing with a sense of accomplishment, she pulls up a scoreboard. "Almost forgot about this bad boy! I mean, we can't determine a winner without keeping score, right?" Roscoe sighs dramatically and shakes her head in woe.

"Only problem is that I need to stay in my best focus mode as the host! Well, whoever shall keep track?!" Roscoe puts her hand up to her forehead like a pretend captain in search of land. "Hmmm... how about you?!"

Roscoe points to the right side of the stage, and no one from the audience has any idea what she's pointing to but a black void. Mal and I look at each other in confusion. 

"Ah, don't be shy! I see ya back there, cutie!" After a couple of seconds, a sheepish Yasmin comes from the void. Ah, so that's where she went? Yasmin doesn't seem too pleased being called out like that, but she takes the scoreboard from Roscoe and plays along.

"Thank you much! Now then! Question 1!"

-----------------------

After about 15 minutes of nonstop play, the match is at a five-minute break. The scores? 22-25, with Fireside in the lead. Honestly, I'm quite shocked -- not that our team is winning, but that our opponent is so close in number. Maybe it's because of the rundown nature and consistently being on the district's radar for less-than-stellar reasons, but I wasn't expecting Spirit High to be able to hold its own. Roscoe joins the huddle with the Spirit team to strategize, and now I get what's going on. In the team, only four can participate in the competition, so it seems that Roscoe and Yasmin are alternates in the in case. Maybe that's why I hadn't seen Yasmin the first time around, but then why don't I see her again? I offer to take Mal and I's sherbet trash out with me as I go to the restroom real quick. As I leave the theater, the flickering lights in the hall leave me with an ominous chill. 

I throw away our trash and then enter the restroom. Whilst I take care of business, I start replaying the match thus far. It's quite energetic seeing the teams fired up to answer each question, with squeaks of the rubber chicken flying around like candy from a piñata. As upbeat and very stand-out as Roscoe has been as host, and with the few quirky quips Stewart would put out (which seemed to enthuse Spirit's leader, whose name is Max), the most entertaining part about this whole thing has been seeing Havana's quick reflexes being an aid in taking the lead. The way she swings around the chicken like there's a gun to her head is honestly the most hilarious thing I've ever seen. I really hope she hasn't been able to see me laughing in the audience, because no matter how hard I try to stifle it, it's just too funny! Ah, but apart from that, she's been answering questions smooth as butter, as if numbers are interjected in her bloodstream. I haven't been able to see her true competitive side yet but if this is a mix of her athleticism and academic power together in a smaller setting, then she must be the star of the show at the real thing. Of course, these are things I cannot bear myself to admit to her, but more and more by the day Havana Sommers the human triumphs over Havana Sommers the idol. And more and more when I think of it, even if I haven't gotten to know her long myself, I feel as if so many people at school aren't even aware of how she truly is. 

As I ponder on that thought, it feels as if deja vu strikes me when I hear sniffling in the stalls. I'm taken back to last year when I found Mallory crying at Yarborough. Oh no ... what if that's her again? I finish up and flush, washing my hands and wrapping them up in extra paper towels in case I need to get down and crawl into the stall again like last time. I mean, I truly hope I don't have to, but these are things that friendship are made of. Before I can even sya anything, though, the stall swings open and it's not Mallory I'm greeted with, but --

"Yasmin?"

"Oh," a bright red Yasmin freezes. "Oh God, please don't tell Havana I was in here. Wait, did she send you for me or something? Crap, is the competition starting up again?"

"N-no?" I answer, trying to keep up with her frantic pace. "I mean, she didn't send me in here, and also no, the competition isn't going on. I ... think?"

"Excuse me," Yasmin moves past me. She takes her glasses off and cleans herself up by splashing water on her face. Okay, I know the appropriate thing in this situation would be to ask "Hey, what's wrong?" or "Is everything okay?" but for one, clearly everything is not okay and at the same time, Yasmin and I have barely established being acquaintances (if that?! Really, we're just passersby who have happened to speak a few times now), so even if she were to answer what was wrong, how do I go about that? Yasmin pats her face and blows her nose, and I'm still not sure what to do. I think my body wants to flee, but I can't move. 

Yasmin sighs and grasps the sink with her head down. "You ever been in love, Zora?"

Woah, okay. What a left-field question. I don't know if I've ever been asked that before by anyone, not even Mal. And speaking of, the easy answer would be yes, but I can't move my lips to say it. I'm just so taken aback that of all the people, Yasmin is asking me this, which may lead to asking for love advice and God knows I can't do that for anyone else when I can't even process these things myself. And that's just the thing, right? Yasmin's definition of "love" could differ from mine, because as far as I've known, I don't think my feelings for Mal have made me cry ... surely not?

"I ... I don't know," I simply answer. 

"Well let me tell you --" Yasmin turns her head, her eyes swollen and the irises matte with hurt. "It fucking sucks."

"Ah?" 

"The worst of it is when you can't even escape the person you're in love with because they're everywhere!" Yasmin clutches her head in frustration. "God, I didn't even want to do this stupid math decathlon shit! Now look at me!" Yasmin takes a sharp breath, then shoots me a death stare. "You cannot tell anyone about this, got it?"

"I-I won't!" I put my hands up in defense. That does make me wonder, though ...

Yasmin shakes her head and shivers heavily. She starts to walk out of the restroom, which seems to be the end of this riveting conversation, but she stops right before the exit.

"If you ever think you're in love," Yasmin croaks. "Make sure it's for the right person." Then she goes.

I sit with her advice for a moment. Okay, so obviously she's experiencing heartbreak, and it seems to be from someone involved in the math decathlon. Now I don't want to make any assumptions, but I doubt Stewart is the object of affection. I don't know much about K.D., but he seems to be a man of few words so perhaps he and Yasmin aren't on a close level like that. It's not Havana, no duh. 

.... Marnie? But then that can't be right, either because Yasmin isn't gay. Or at least doesn't seem like it. So maybe it's an interschool thing. Oh wait, maybe it's that Max guy. I noticed every time she had to flip the score for Spirit High, she did it in a subtly aggressive manner. 

"Make sure it's for the right person" she says. Ah, but of course, I've already fallen for the right person, so whilst I feel sorry for her, I'm can't relate to her situation if I wanted to. Hmm, but then again, there's the matter of Havana being the object of affection for Mal. So maybe by that logic, I'm not the right person for her. Aha, but how would I ever know when I haven't even been able to tell her yet? Oh, this is making my head hurt.

I don't give much more of my energy to the thought for now and make my way back to the theater, where things seem to be underway. Damn, I missed the start-up by a bit. I tip-toe my way back to my seat, where Mal seems to be ... on her GameBoy? She quickly turns her head to me.

"Ah, there you are!" Mal whispers. "Did the sherbet get to you?"

"Huh?" I cock my head. "W-what, no! Gross!" 

"Just checking," Mal says, then turns her attention back to her game.

"What, the match get boring for you?" I joke. 

"I mean ..." Mal shurgs. "It's just a quick round or two. I'm still very present!"

"Right," I nod. I mean, in a way I predicted this to happen, but when I turn my attention back to the stage, I look at Havana. Havana, who really wanted the audience to be there for the team more than anyone. The Havana that Mal should be making googly eyes over (even if it makes me squirm). 

So then, what gives?