The second floor of Bataplai High School, where Johan and the rest of the eleventh graders had their lockers, was still quiet when Mrs. Richards went through her usual early morning route to her homeroom at the end of the hallway. Just before she was ready to punch in the special numbers to unlock the room, however, she caught a glimpse of a lanky figure in an oversized hoodie trying to pry open Johan's locker and slip a note. The teacher shouted at the figure, who proceeded to hurriedly run down the stairs but then tripped and revealed her face.

"What are you doing sneaking around and trying to open somebody else's locker, Bethany?"

"It's not what it looks like, I swear!" the girl got up to her feet. "I just wanted to give him an apology note. I don't know why he's been out of school for a week now but I want him to know that it's not fun not having him here and that if he's not here because he tries to avoid me then I'm sorry for going too far. I do like calling him names but I don't want him to be scared of me."

"Hand me the note," Mrs. Richards said with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not going to take you at your words. I don't care if the note is personal—one doesn't simply apologize unprompted."

"I'm disappointed that you think of me as nothing but a bad person, ma'am," Bethany frowned as she pulled the note off the narrow gap in Johan's locker and let the teacher confiscate it. "But I'm not here to argue with you. Like you stated so eloquently, the note shall reveal my intent," she flipped her long auburn braids before putting her hoodie back and marching off, leaving her teacher speechless at her blatant disregard of authority.

Mrs. Richards unfolded the note and squinted to read the girl's mess of a chicken scratch.

Hey Johan, it's Beth. Believe it or not, school sucks harder than you suck balls when I have no one to make fun of. Before you roll your eyes, I want you to know that making fun of you does bring me joy but I never want to become the reason you stop going to school. If you read this, it means you're back—either of your own accord or because your parents force you to. What about I make you a deal? I'll leave you alone if you agree to help me get into Blue Orchid University of Xenobiology. I know you're thinking of going there too—yes, I got my hand on everyone's post-high school's academic plan when I submitted mine and I peeked at yours—and I know you're aware I'm not as brainy as you are. Be my math tutor, please? My mother would kill me if I don't get into BOUX Mathematics department and you're my only hope.

P.S.: I can't pay you for being a tutor but I'm dead serious about keeping my promise of leaving you alone. That is, of course, only if you agree to the deal. Otherwise, it's business as usual.

"Huh, this is unexpected," Mrs. Richards mumbled to herself as she pocketed the note. "I'm glad that the young lady has started taking her academic future seriously. I hope she will get tutored."

***

When Bethany's note finally made its way to Johan's hand, it came with Mrs. Richard's own note to consider giving the auburn-haired girl a second chance at being friendly.

She does seem pompous and uncouth, the teacher had written, but if all she wants out of you is some hours of tutoring sessions and then she'll back off, then would it hurt to tutor her? Besides, she mentions something about her mother's expectation of her. Out of all people, you know how parental expectations can make one desperate. If you talk to her, maybe you'll end up more than helping her improve her math grade. Perhaps she has her own secrets you could uncover.

***

The notes occupied Johan's mind for the better half of the ninety minutes of his Advanced Statistics class. He was half-listening to his instructor showing the class how to model linear regression on a slope and only snapped out of his occupation with the notes' content when the same instructor called on him to define in his own words what he thought linear regression is.

"Um y-yes, so l-linear r-regression," he stammered with a beet-red face, "refers to a model that statisticians use to examine the relationship between two known variables in an observable problem. For example, in a hospital setting where a medical practitioner has to observe how a drug dosage correlates with a patient's blood pressure, it's useful to plot the drug dosage and blood pressure in x and y axis respectively and do an extrapolation."

"Very good," the instructor nodded at his satisfactory explanation. "May I also ask you, then, Johan, to extrapolate on the correlation between how long you've spaced out in this period and the probability that I'll give you a detention?"

"I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again."

"It better not. I would hate to give detention to someone who just barely got out of hospital," the mathematics teacher replied with a hint of a smile before continuing with the lesson.

The only correlation I've failed to extrapolate on, Johan thought as he pretended to be interested in whatever problem sets were on the whiteboard, is between the duration of my absence from school and Bethany's level of sketchiness. For that matter, I also fail to extrapolate on the correlation between my situation at home and the likelihood of Mrs. Richards' insisting that I befriend someone who might or might not be in my shoes. I need the opinion of a trustworthy person. Perhaps I should ask for Kenta's opinion–let's hope he's now tired of ignoring me. It's been a little bit over five days since that disastrous conversation.

****

As soon as the bell signaling recess time and the end of the first period rang, Johan headed to the janitor's cleaning supply closet hidden somewhere in the school's basement behind the stairwells. No one ever visited the basement except during crises like huge snow storms or an impending hurricane, which according to the janitor had not happened in the city of Bataplai or anywhere in Black Elm ever since he claimed the janitorial position fifteen years ago, rendering the basement practically useless. The existence of the basement was not a secret to the student body, but no student–aside from a curious soul–ever felt the need to venture there.

Johan was the only student to ever greet the school janitor, thus the janitor let him use the closet to escape from Bethany whenever he needed to. It was a safe haven–nobody else knew the passcode to enter the closet and even if someone tried to crack it they would need to know how to solve a lengthy equation since Johan had convinced the janitor to change the passcode into a completely random mathematical problem instead of a string of numbers. To make it even more secure, the question would always be asked in Pinean Creole, a language that almost nobody in Bataplai High was fluent in.

"If one apple and nine bananas cost you eleven Elmian coins while three apples and one banana costs you seven Elmian coins, how much do you need to pay to get one apple and banana each?" the automatic randomized passcode generator spoke when Johan pressed an 'unlock' button. "You have two minutes to answer before the randomizer gives you a different problem."

The boy did some calculation in his head before answering with a conviction: "Exactly three Elmian coins."

"Access granted", the generator spoke again. After double checking that the coast was clear, Johan entered the closet and dialed Kenta's digits, which he knew by heart.

"Nesamimus, ihcatiust ioy, Kenta o usamietihsagas?" he asked in Pinean Creole.

"Ihcatiust," the voice on the other side responded in a surprised tone, "am I speaking with who I think this is? Are you in trouble? Atana on nasuoto aw usedirawam ak?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm okay, I'm at school now and no, my dad has not been beating me ever since the last time. Listen, I won't blame you if you're still angry at me but—"

"I can't stay angry for long, not after I realized why you came up with the plan you have. But I'll get to it later, tell me what's up and why we're not using full English."

"There's a girl at school who has been a big meanie," Johan answered half in the creole language and half in English, "and now that I'm back after my stay at the hospital she suddenly asked me to tutor her in mathematics because apparently her mother would kill her if she doesn't get into BOUX math department. Strangely, my teacher encourages me to tutor this girl despite knowing that she's a meanie. So, now I'm thinking whether this girl was being literal about her mother possibly killing her for failure to get into BOUX, because otherwise why would my teacher be happy about her wanting me to become math tutor?"

"That indeed is super strange that your teacher is involved," Kenta said with apparent worry in his voice, "and I know there are cases in which bullies can redeem themselves, but for a bully to turn over a new leaf without something out of the ordinary happening to trigger the change is a once in a blue moon occurrence. Definitely be careful, teddy, and don't let her take advantage of your kindness. For all we know, she could be fabricating the whole vicious-mother-is-hell bent-on-micromanaging-helpless-daughter story to get you to empathize with her and once she fished empathy out of you she'd devour you."

"Devour?" Johan couldn't help but notice his beloved's choice of word. "Interesting descriptor you've got here. You make her sound like a wild beast. She's just a girl, hikari, not a ferocious predator. I'm asking for your opinion not because I'm scared of her—she can't be any worse than the real monster I have to deal with at home—but because I want to know if you think she genuinely needs help, both in mathematics and in dealing with pressures from her mother."

"Johan, you're not under any impression that she will become a permanently nice person after you finish tutoring her for the remainder of the semester, are you?"

"Is it really outside of the realm of possibility? I mean, we know that Aiden is now nice to you, so why can't the same thing happen with Bethany and me?"

"So that's the meanie's name," Kenta said coldly, bordering on hostility, "I didn't expect such a name to belong to a bully. I was expecting her name to be something like Rumpelstiltskin."

"Rumpel what now?"

"Never mind, some old lore about a conniving goblin-dwarf I once heard of from Akira's mom."

"Kenta, do I detect jealousy?"

"Jealousy? Why would I be jealous of someone who bullies you?"

"It's just that I've never heard you badmouth anyone, not even Aiden, and out of nowhere you're badmouthing a girl you've never met yourself and you were just now secondhandedly learning about. If that doesn't reek of jealousy, then what is it I'm detecting in your tone?"

"Fine, I'm jealous. You said that you believe she can act nicer if you're nice to her so I can't help thinking that you're probably thinking of turning her into your fake girlfriend."

"Bethany, my girlfriend?" Johan couldn't stifle a sarcastic laughter, "in her dreams. As desperate as I am to have a cover up for my gayness, I do have a standard. I don't want to date a mean person, even if it's just fake dating. No, no way. When I finally ask a girl out or a girl asks me out, I want her to be someone sweet. A girl version of you, in a sense."

"I'm so conflicted over being flattered or being insulted. A girl version of me, eh? I might as well cross-dress. No offense to cross-dressers, I'm just saying you're being kind of insulting."

"You know I didn't mean it in a derogatory way, hikari."

"I know, but it still stings to know that just because we're both boys we're forced to keep our love in the down-low," Kenta sighed, "and how long do you plan to keep on stinging me?"

"I don't want to be a prick," Johan groaned, "so not for very long. Just until the end of our first autumn in college. When that particular autumn ends, hopefully I'd have the courage to let our relationship go public, with or without my dad's blessing. By then, I'd no longer be a minor and hopefully I'd be financially independent and maybe we can rent an apartment of our own so I wouldn't have to listen to the nonsense he's spitting on the daily when college isn't in session."

"That autumn can't come soon enough."

"Yeah," Johan let out a sad sigh, "I both dread and look forward to it. I dread having to break a fake girlfriend's heart but I look forward to calling you my boyfriend for real."

"I wish we can skip this whole backstreet relationship business, but I get that for now your priority is surviving your father's ire. Anyhow, we're being sidetracked from the reason you called me. About Bethany, my suggestion is to keep your guard up. Don't be too quick to act friendly with her just because it seems she's befriending you now. She could be setting up traps."

"I'll be cautious when I tutor her. Thank you for listening to me, Kenta, and for not being angry at me anymore. I love you so much I could cry."

"Please don't cry because if you do then I will cry too. Take care."