Oh.

It dawned on me that we were going to have a long quiz today. I really sucked when it came to Math – the numbers and the variables simply looked gibberish to me – but then, this test should be easy.

I almost laughed. Almost.

This had to be one of the perks of reliving the past. The questions were the exact ones I answered back then. Seriously! I could easily whip an A+ if this continues. A dream came true!

I answered the quiz in a jiffy, not even breaking a sweat. I raised my head as soon as I finished, and I discovered I knocked nerdy Lawrence Fischer from his throne of finishing first. He held that title in all his exams since he entered first grade. I’m pretty sure he would hate me for this.

Ms. Jordan was busy writing something in her notebook to notice what everyone else was doing in class. Some were actually sleeping, probably dreaming that they finished the quiz.

“You’re done?” Aethan mouthed in incredulity when he noticed me flip my test facing down on the table.

I only smiled.

“Wow. You should tutor me,” he remarked in awe. His whisper inevitably sent shivers down my spine. “Or else I’ll end up drawing stick figures all over again.”

He briefly showed me his paper. Dancing stick people in black ink were drawn all over the margins. Actually, there’s a part that looked like World War 3, with all the advanced guns and bombs thingies he invented on the spot.

I giggled silently. “Try using pencil next time so you can add shadows.”

He narrowed his eyes on his artwork as if he was some big shot critic.

“Do you have your eyeliner with you?” he grinned, wagging his eyebrows.

I wish I could laugh, but I was too chicken to try that in Ms. Jordan’s class so I merely shrugged in response. Maybe it’s just me, but shouldn’t he be angry or feeling awkward around me because of what happened last night, not acting like we’ve been pals since kindergarten? Did he forget everything? I heard that when people get drunk, they do stupid things that later on they may not remember. Was last night like that? Seriously?

"Maybe I should take a picture and post this inspiring drawing of mine in Facebook."

“Be serious, West. Answer the damn test already!” I stressed, but heck, it was difficult when he was enjoying himself into turning his paper into a graffiti wall.

“Only if you tutor me?” he smiled impishly.

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

“Because I’m nowhere near Fischer smart.”

“Oh, great, he’s the epitome of killing the buzz,” he snorted. “I’ll fail this quiz, I'll eventually be failing Calculus. I’ll end up repeating the Senior year. I bet everyone will love it that their captain will be held back.”

“That’s great,” I smiled, “If you don’t graduate, the trophy will be as good as won. The principal will be thrilled.”

He made a face. “You got me.”

Aethan sighed. After the pointed look I gave him, he relented and then finally started differentiating the Trigonometric identities on the first part our long quiz. He didn’t need help, if you ask me. He managed to answer the first two integral problems without pause. That’s actually really awesome! No wonder I never heard of Aethan earning less than a C.

When Ms. Jordan called the papers in, Aethan had done more than half. Hopefully, that was enough to get him a passing grade.

I fidgeted as soon as the class was dismissed. “Uhm, West?”

“Yes?” he returned with a bored tone, as if Calculus drained him and sucked his vitality dry.

I immediately gave him the paper bag containing his jacket. “T-Thank you last night.”

“Thanks, uh, welcome.”

He still appeared under the complete spell of ‘After-the-test hangover syndrome’.

“Still alive?” I asked as I picked my bag.

He theatrically rolled his head back. “Barely, so yes. Thanks for returning the jacket. I thought I lost it.”

“Huh,” I deadpanned. So he really did forget. I shouldn't feel bad... right? Frowning, I stared at the jacket on his arm. “I washed it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And ironed it.”

“Cool.”

“And used it to wipe the mud off my booties.”

“Nice… uh, what?”

I laughed at his expression as I sauntered towards the door. “That’s a joke.”

“That’s lame.”

“Not,” I rolled my eyes at him.

“Whatever, honey.”

I like how that sounded.

He jogged beside me as we left the room. Wasn’t his next class in the opposite direction? Why was he following me?

“Liliana, wait… does this mean we are friends now?”

His face appeared hopeful and fearful at the same time. Wait, wait, wait! I thought he didn’t remember what happened last night? Was he sober now, or was he still under some lasting effect of alcohol? This didn’t make sense. Ridiculous, but I admit, it’s a pleasant feeling.

Aethan actually think I’m worthy to be his friend?

I realized that we were alone in the hall and likely late for our class. He was waiting for my answer.

I bit my lip. “Yes, I guess so.”

We could never be together, but we could be friends. I’m not selfish to deny him that. Wasn’t that one of the things I wanted? To have a friend? Who was I to reject him, right?

“Cool,” he beamed. “I’ll head to my class now. See you on Saturday!”

Huh?

He was running fast, so I had to shout. “Saturday?”

“Come on. You’re gonna tutor me, remember? I’ll pick you up after lunch!”

But before I could complain, he was too far from me and he was yelling “That’s great! Thank you! See you!” repeatedly. I could only stand shock at what happened.

Like, hello? Was I still in the same Bright Brooks High I entered three years ago? How could things change so fast in a manner of three days? Were the things I actually considered impossible really just this simple, so within reach?

Was this Fate… or was this me?

“Sorry,” I mumbled when I unintentionally stepped on a tall red-headed guy wearing square-rimmed glasses. I must've been walking in a trance. Dangerous. The guy on the floor was in a hurry to unwrap himself from a roll of tissue some bullies put around him. He was struggling like a worm.

“No. I’m sorry,” he said in a deep baritone that told me he was really angry. “This just won’t get off me.”

“Let me help you,” I offered as I quickly tore the white mess off him. He wiggled away from the roll as soon as he’s free. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah.” He waved my concern away, but I could tell he simply didn’t want to talk about it.

My brow twitched. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Yeah.” He tried to fix his ruined polo shirt as he stood up. “I’m Kheirik Otwell.”

“Oh,” was all I said since my mind had wandered elsewhere. I think I’m awfully late for class now!

This time his brows twitched as he scrutinized me. “You’re weird.”

“I am?”

Perhaps because I was bouncing on my toes? I had to really run to class or else... I gulped.

“Normally, people say their names when someone introduced himself.”

“They do?” I asked, blinking. I'm not weird because I’m bouncing like a ball?

“Yeah.”

I nodded in appreciation. “Okay. Thanks for telling me. I really have to go…”

I sprinted towards my next class, hoping that the teacher was either late or he would ignore my tardiness. But I guess, even if my luck for the day turned worse, I would remain feeling this buoyant. I was dancing in Cloud 9.

It’s not every day this kind of thing happens.

I smiled.

Annoying Beth, acing Calculus, tutoring Aethan… and helping someone.

And this was just the start. Oh, I couldn’t wait for what else I could do now that I know that we create our own miracles.

Hear that? We create our own miracles.