“Finally,” Sarai pumps her fist in the air, triumphant. “I’ve finished this boring US history assignment!”

I giggle at her reaction. “Wow. You must really hate history, huh?”

“Elena,” Sarai turns her whole body towards me, looking like she’s about to give a two-hour lecture on why history sucks. “History is ‘very important.’” She recites what Mr. Kerr stated on the first day of school, using air quotes. “‘It’s necessary to study and understand history so we can understand how our country became the way it is today, and why certain things are occurring in our world at the moment.’”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I whisper, trying to hold in my laugh. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “If Mr. Kerr overhears you mocking what he said word-for-word on the first day of school, I think he’s going to throw a fit.”

“Nah, I doubt it. He’s a chill guy. I mean, he practically talks about his life for about a quarter of the class, gives examples meaningful to us when describing events in history, and doesn’t get mad if the same two people raise their hand for the entirety of class. This class is easy,” Sarai states, putting her long, black, shiny hair into a ponytail. I get a whiff of the Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume she put on herself–and especially in her hair–as she twists her hair tie this way and that, trying to secure the ponytail.

“You know, I wanted to ask you something,” Sarai says as soon as she drops her hands onto her lap, her sleek ponytail done.

“Yeah?”

Sarai clears her throat; she’s always a bit dramatic whenever she talks, or at least she tries to be. It’s pretty cinematic; she’d make a good actress, yet she’s surrendered herself to only doing stage crew for the fall play. “Do you have a crush on anyone?”

I can feel myself turn red as soon as the words slip out of her mouth. Why is she asking me this? I try to speak, but the words fail to come to me, so I just sit silently and look down at my hands, which are clutched in my lap. My legs start bouncing up and down; I don’t like it when people ask me these kinds of questions, especially if I’m not very close to them or if I haven’t known them for a while.

“Elena?” Sarai questions, her thick brows furrowing. “What’s the matter? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

That’s the one thing I love about Sarai; she’s very up-front about things. To other people, that can be a little too much, but I like this trait of Sarai’s. “No, um, it’s okay,” I mumble, twisting my wrists. “To answer your question I don’t have a crush on anyone at the moment. How could I if I’ve only been at this school for such a short amount of time?”

“I guess that’s true, but I do know some people who fall very easily or get crushes on other people very fast.” Sarai fiddles with the sleeves of her baby pink cardigan.

“You look like you have something else to say,” I comment, smiling briefly.

“Not really,” Sarai replies, not looking up from her sleeves. “So, how are you and Adelia getting along?”

She’s very quick to change the subject.

When she utters Adelia’s name, I can feel my stomach start to twist into knots, and I get excited, for what reason, I don’t know. “We’re getting along very well! Why?”

“Just curious,” Sarai finally quits fiddling with the sleeves of her cardigan and looks me in the eye. She’s not usually like this; something is a bit off.

“Oh, okay,” I shrug it off.

“Are you two…close?”

“Yeah!” I reply. I become all animated as soon as I begin to gush about Adelia. “Though we haven’t known each other for too long, I’d say that we’re, like, best friends. We just understand each other so well, and it’s almost like we always know what the other is thinking, and…yeah. I’m so happy to have found her. I’ve been wanting a friend like Adelia for ages now, and finally, I found her,” I smile at my last sentence, looking at one of the murals on the wall: this one is of a brain. This used to be a psychology classroom, so that explains the psychology-related murals all over the walls.

“That’s great! I’m happy for you.” Sarai beams at me. She hardly says things like this, so when she does, she always means it.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and my thoughts drift to Adelia. I should text her. Mr. Kerr wouldn’t mind.

I unzip my backpack and pull out my phone, rushing to get to Adelia’s contact. As soon as I do, I type: Hey! Wanna come over to my place tomorrow after school?

Adelia reads the message as soon as I send it; maybe she was also thinking about texting me? Of course! She replies.