As I sit at the back of the classroom, my gaze drifts lazily over the rows of students. My mind wanders aimlessly as the teacher drones on about some mundane topic. Noah catches my eye for a moment. He doesn't seem very invested in what the teacher is saying but also doesn't portray ostentatious boredom like Tanner. Scribbling something in the corner of his notebook, Noah occasionally tugs at the frayed hem of his well-worn dark green sweater.

I don't know what he's thinking. I don't know why I'm looking. I avert my eyes and focus on the prints in front of me. Something lingers in the back of my mind, like an itch I can't scratch. It's bothersome, and I hate it.

When the bell finally rings, just as I start to rise from my seat, Tanner grabs my arm, pulling me back down. "I've landed us another job," he says, though I barely listen as my attention is drawn to Audrey approaching Noah and the way he flickers his blue eyes up.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, barely mustering a grain of interest.

"Come on, Leighton!" he persists. "Change this mug of yours! I'm doing you a favor here, you know?"

I stare at him blankly, resisting the urge to roll my eyes and ask, "Are you sure?" Instead, I say, "What's the deal?"

Tanner scans the room briefly, his eyes lingering on Audrey chatting with Noah before returning to me. "I'll tell you after school. Or what about skipping the rest of the day?"

"Nah," I shake my head, pretending to look out the window but actually glancing at Noah. "The weather sucks. I bothered to come here; I'm staying at least till lunch."

"Whatever," Tanner says dismissively and leaves the class.

"Then see you at the gym after 6th period," Audrey says to Noah before leaving too. Now, there are only two of us left in the room. Noah gathers his things and gets up. For some reason, I mirror his movement. He takes a step toward the exit but stops and turns to me, "Do you know where the physics class is?"

"I have it too," I say. "Let's go."

We walk for some time without speaking, but the awkwardness is diluted by students milling about in the corridors.

"Leighton, right?" Noah suddenly asks, falling into step beside me.

"Ugh-hu," I nod. And that's it. And it's awkward again. I'm not used to being the one talking and it was never a problem, but somehow I feel the pressure now. And it squeezes words out of me. "So... you from Detroit?"

"Yeah," Noah says.

"Never been there..." I trail off.

He gives me a sidelong glance. "Can't say I'd recommend it for sightseeing," he says with a half-smile. "But... it wasn't bad..."

"Like here, you mean?" I finish for him.

Noah gives me another, slightly longer glance. "I can't say it's bad here," he shrugs. "And I'm trying to stay optimistic." He even manages a full smile this time. I don't dare to break it with a "Don't."

The class starts, and Ms. Cruz launches enthusiastically into the new topic. I guess this class doesn't sound so boring only because Ms. Cruz is really trying. There's no monotony in her voice, no dry facts from the books. With all the examples and experiments that sometimes look like magic tricks, she makes me believe that physics actually has something to do with my life. But she loses me anyway when we get down to the formulas.

I know that when I jump from a height, I need to roll, not just land on my feet. Because when I roll, I change the direction of the force or something like that. But I couldn't tell the difference between impulse and impact even if my life depended on it. Not to mention writing down the math of it. However, on a practical level, I know how to land without breaking my legs.

"Please pair up for the next task," Ms. Cruz says, finishing her notes on the whiteboard. "You will set up the experiment yourselves."

I look around, with no intention to move despite the bustle as students scramble to find partners. I could pair up with Rory, but he seems to have dozed off in the last row.

Noah sits alone too. For a moment, our eyes meet, and Noah tilts his head slightly. It looks like a question, so I answer with a short nod, and Noah joins me at the desk. His closeness stirs something inside me. Maybe because he's new?

"Today," Ms. Cruz continues when the rustle dies down, "we will be revisiting Newton's Second Law of Motion. This will help you protect an egg-" she demonstrates an ordinary egg, holding it between her thumb and forefinger, "-from being crushed by this," she lifts a big bucket from the floor. "I'm sure you've done something like this in the past. That's why it's called revisiting. Please take your egg and use these wooden toothpicks and glue to create a contraption that will let your egg survive the fall of the bucket." Ms. Cruz hangs the bucket on a hook, lifts it, and ties the thread to the table leg, leaving the bucket suspended over the board with a red cross. "When ready, place your device on the red cross, and we'll see if you succeed. In any case, you need to describe your experiment and explain the results. You must remember at least two formulas for this. Please begin."

Noah and I exchange a glance, then turn our attention to the task at hand, grabbing the materials and returning to our desk.

"Any ideas?" I ask, glancing at Noah.

"I think we did something similar in 8th grade... I don't remember much of it," he says, narrowing his eyes and biting his lower lip. "But I think we can use these toothpicks to create a sturdy frame around the egg, then reinforce it with glue. If we distribute the force evenly, the egg should be protected."

"Yeah, but... wouldn't it be better if we made the top side pointy, like this," I suggest, folding my palms into a triangular shape. "This would make the top stronger, and the bucket would roll off the side."

"Yes, but-" Noah suddenly perks up. My objection doesn't seem to cause him any irritation; rather, on the contrary, it seems to please him. "This means the force of the impact will be concentrated on a small area. With a square top, the force will be distributed across the whole structure." He looks at me a little questioningly, as if he's waiting for my next take.

Strangely enough, I have something to say. "I don't think it'll hold up. We don't have enough building material to make it sturdy enough," I shake my head. Noah surveys the toothpicks we have, mulling something over. Why do I even bother? Noah seems excited, but I've never cared much about such things. Arguing about physics?

As I'm about to wave it off, Noah says, "You know, I'm actually curious if your idea works. So," he smiles a bit, "let's do it your way. And I have some improvements in mind," he grins.

We create something like a shack for an egg. Noah not only builds the pointy top but also makes a bunch of toothpicks stick out from it.

"They will break, but they will absorb the force of the impact anyway," he explains. "Can you finish here, and I'll write down the formulas?"

I take the toothpicks and the glue, and Noah starts writing something in the notebook. When we're both done, it's time to put our creation to the test.

As we approach the red cross marked on the floor, I actually feel something. It's like the feeling I get when I step towards a wall I want to climb. I didn't expect I could feel this way about physics, though.

Noah carefully places our contraption on the designated spot, adjusting it slightly to ensure it's secure.

"Ready?" Ms. Cruz asks. Noah glances at me and we both nod. With a swift motion, she releases the thread holding the bucket. It falls, hitting our shack with a thud. The protruding toothpicks on top break, and for a moment, it seems like the whole thing might tip over. But then, miraculously, it holds steady. The egg remains intact inside.

"Excellent work, Leighton and Noah," Ms. Cruz says with a smile. And I can't help but smile in reply.