By the time lunch was done, I had half the mind to doze off in class. Lethargy was braided into my tissues and bones from the moment I woke up. Maybe it was my anxiety, keeping me up all night.

I had sent out my college applications and the dreaded wait had finally begun. While I waited for my acceptance letter from Harvard, my mind churned up everything negative.

Just like mom and dad, I wanted to be accepted into the prestigious college. Little to my knowledge, the topic of pride soon turned into a matter of panic.

How was I supposed to uphold the Carter legacy?

How was I to ensure, I did better than my parents?

"Are you okay, James?" George asked, leaning closer. I shut my eyes and felt the cold kiss of the wooden desk on my forehead. "Do you want to visit the medical wing?"

I nodded into my palms and turned to face my concerned friend. With a creased forehead that formed tiny sweat beads, George further reduced our distance.

He help his cold hand over what felt like my burning skin and nodded, pursing his lips.

"You don't have a fever," he said but I wasn't sure he knew what rising temperature felt like. The wide-eyed boy lifted an eyebrow and patted my back. "Are you sure Luke didn't give you something bad to eat again?

Since the age of two, Luke, George and I had been inseparable. We were the three musketeers, bound by my family's long-standing relationship while developing our own friendship. When George started dating Kate, both Luke and I assumed it to be the end of our companionship but we were wrong.

Kate wasn't like most girls. She wasn't cunning like the many juniors I had encountered, including my brother. She was simple in ways that reminded George of simpler things in life - life before his father's Wall Street fame.

"Maybe it was the milk I had." My spine creaked when I sat up on my chair. My eyes warmed as I looked around. "I think it was spoilt."

George roared a burst of laughter loud enough for Mr. Young – our Physics teacher - to turn to us.

"Is there something amusing about thermodynamics, Mr. Barnes?" He glared at George. "Share it with everyone then."

George dragged his chair back, the screech pierced straight into my skull while I nested my head back to the cold from my desk.

Maybe it was Luke. He was rather excited to share his dry sandwich with me during lunch. I should have known better than to trust the prank master.

During the ninety minutes of the Physics class, I felt the air leaving my lungs and my mouth drying from the very thought of getting into a college. My face warmed but my fingertips turned colder.

It was in the medical wing, where I felt the respite of cold ac blast when George carried me there. The dryness and the palpitation had gone. What remained was me – a sweaty body and a confused minded person.

What happened to me?

The nurse failed in diagnosing anything, but the doctor who visited next spoke incoherently to George. Something, something panic attack.

Pfft.

The medical wing was all across the other side of the academic block. It was impossible to make it back to the next class within five minutes while we had the task of running back across the schoolyard and crossing two connecting blocks.

George slowed his steps and loosened his grip that coiled over my back. "We'll miss our next class even if we ran at the speed of light."

"Roemer would be proud of your conclusion, George."

"Who?"

"Ole Roemer, the scientist who discovered the speed of light."

"Oh, that guy..." George exclaimed as if he suddenly remembered some long lost cousin's name.

With every step I took, my shivering insides felt normal, almost as if they never underwent duress.

George, who walked in parallel to me with his hand hovering on my back, sighed. His round, chubby face turned crimson with all the blood he used up in being alert.

"If you wanted to play hooky, you should have just told me, Jamie," he said, leaning his weight on the nearby bench. "I got worried."

"I swear, I wasn't making it up. But I feel better now."

Unlike Luke who remained fixated on his athletic body, George never cared about his physical appearance. Ever since Kate, whatever little exercise he used to get with me went out the door. Now, every weekend, our lover-boy is either on a date or sitting and drinking up library contents to bother exercising.

"You know, you shouldn't be panting like this on such a small walk," I said and George swatted my finger.

"Unlike you who exercises and still looked like you were about to die." While I wanted to protest, George, who took off from the bench proved my point with his sloth-walk. "By the way, the doctor thought you had a panic attack."

"I heard."

"You're stressing too much about the college placements, Jamie. You need to relax and not blast like a shooting star at the very thought of college." He patted my back. "I know you'll get in somewhere good."

"Somewhere isn't good enough, Georgie." He wouldn't understand. "Harvard is what I need."

"Harvard isn't worth the nervous breakdowns you've been having, Nerdy boy."

The class bell rang, confirming we missed our Math period. The empty hallway soared to life with everyone rushing out of their classes.

George left my side when he saw an incoming disaster.

Rebecca, the editor-in-chief of the school's newsletter and my ex, walked over. I turned to walk towards my locker or any place where I could escape from her but her feet moved faster than a bullet train.

"James," she called out. The sound of her boots thumped loud on the floor. "Wait for me."

Do I have to?

I turned, quickening a smile for her while she ran the rest of the distance. Her eyes never slid off me; her prey. While Rebecca neared, her arm curled around my neck, kissing the side of my jaw in her tiptoed position.

Earlier, I used to lower my body for her kiss. Only later did I realize, I figuratively stooped too.

Setting her golden, blonde locks to rest patiently over her shoulders, Rebecca took her time to compose, palming her chest and breathing slow on purpose.

I stared hard into my locker, shuffling books and trophies from one corner to another.

"Are you avoiding me?" She asked, tapping the back of my shoulder. "I expect you to look at me when I talk."

Expect away.

I looked over my shoulder, viewing the side of her sneering face. The view of her makeup, drawn over her jawline resembled that of a joker - unblended and out-rightly sharp to grab attention.

"I am cleaning my locker. I can't look at you and do it." I know it was my lamest defense but anything to avoid talking to Rebecca was a boon.

"Since when do you clean your already spick and span locker?" She asked, tapping the tip of her boot into the tile.

The constant taps of her heels revived my sleeping headache. I could feel it stirring at the base of my spine.

To end the torture, I turned, closing my paint chipped locker with a loud bang. There were only a few onlookers in the hallway but even they turned to the sound before moving along.

"I have to go home, Rebecca. So tell me fast, why are you here?"

Rebecca knew when she held the power to make people dance. She displayed certain signs.

Her eyebrow would twitch up and her taut forehead skin would try wrinkling but fail. Most of all, her devious smile would come to play. Not a smirk, but a crooked smile that started at the corners of her red-painted lips and etch up to the sides of her narrow nose. If you wanted to derive a comparison - think Dracula.

"Just wanted to let you know that there is a surprise for you in today's article." She waved her bony fingers with some weird, design painted nails at me and walked, only to overlook her shoulder. "Do check it out, Jamie boy."

I pulled my phone and refreshed the school's blog and newsletter app. Nothing.

I flipped the app screen away and reopened it. Desperation danced in my heart, jumping and shaking my calm.

Our school emblem on the editorial app - a soaring eagle's insignia - brightened with every passing second. Its wings turned darker while the screen loaded before the app refreshed.

On the face of 'The Observer' was a letter addressed to my pseudo name.

Dear Wandering Camera,

Thank you for taking the time to capture my wanderings.

When I saw my face on the article's cover, I was appalled. Not by the photo - which although not taken with consent - featured my kitten and I am glad that he made it in news.

The aforementioned appalling was for the chosen caption. Did you know calling a school's newcomer - an alien amounts to harassment? Or were you aware of it yet, embarked on the journey for some name and fame?

Giving you the benefit of doubt, I am letting you off easy.

But please ensure that next time you don't go crossing paths with strangers. Not every alien might be friendly like me.

Take care, Mr./ Ms. Stalker.

Respectfully,

E.T.

I read every word of that letter twice. I smiled at every comma and laughed at every period. What I assumed to be a mundane task to silence my brother turned out to be a fun exploration.

Luke called my name from behind which echoed through the empty halls of the school. He trotted closer, his bag rattled with something metallic inside. His phone screen was lit and when he reached me, his sight fell on the open letter.

"So you did read it?" He said, shoving his device in his pocket.

George, who was missing in action, walked out of our class, surprisingly with Kate beside him.

"James got schooled," Luke shouted to alert him. I pulled his elbow and walked him to a corner.

"What are you doing?" My teeth gritted. "I told you, nobody knows about my photography."

"Not even Orgy?" He tilted his face to check on George before scanning me. "He is like your best friend, Jamie."

"I don't have a best friend and I want you to forget about this or my camera. Understood?" My finger danced in front of Luke's brightened blue eyes.

He nodded in affirmation before running to catch his next victim. My brother grabbed George and ruffled his hair while his loyal girlfriend played alone, giggling.

"Orgy," Luke said and as usual, George crumpled his face. He disliked Luke's term of endearment for him. "I missed you, buddy."

"I didn't," George said, moving outside with us. "And could you please stop calling me that? People think weird things about me."

"Nope, they don't..."

"Jamie could you..." George pled to me, his eyes shrunken.

"Luke... Stop that," I said but the moment Luke grinned and turned to me, I knew the mistake I did in telling my brother about my hobby.

~

Although running a successful law firm with branches in five more states and two countries, our parents ensured that dinner time would always be spent together. There were times when mom and dad would leave meetings to break bread with us, only to go back and attend to work.

The rule of eating together never changed, no matter what.

Luke grabbed a dinner roll and passed it over, digging into his peas and roast chicken. His soft hum resonated from the back of his throat.

With an upcoming match, Luke's soccer practice and his food intake increased. Now he ate for two - himself and the football baby in his mind.

"How was the practice, Lukey?" Mom asked, resting her chin over her knuckle. "And did you check out the forms I sent you for Julliard?"

For both, Luke nodded, digging into his food like a scavenger.

"Dad," I swallowed the last morsel and looked up from my plate. "What are the repercussions of photographing someone without their consent?"

Luke dropped his fork on the plate with a clang and leaned back, crossing his arm. "This is gonna be interesting," he muttered to himself.

Both mom and dad shared a look and peered at me. Dad leaned over the table and mom rested her back on the chair. While he crossed his hands, she unclenched hers. Like a well-oiled machine, they moved back and forth in those same motions.

"Don't worry, Mama." Luke intervened. "Jamie didn't make a sex tape."

"That's not what they were thinking, Luke," I said, huffing out air at my brother's perverse mind.

"Oh, that is what we were thinking," Mom said. Nodding in tandem was dad.

"What?" I stuttered, gasping for air and logic. "Of all things, why would you assume that?"

"Because..." Mom cleared her throat. "You're a teenager. And teenagers do weird things, Jamie."

"You think I'm like most kids, don't you?" I looked away, only to accept defeat and turn around. If I needed answers then I had to come clean. "The thing is, I took a girl's photo in school for a competition. She thinks it's without consent so she wrote back."

"Show me." Dad danced his fingers across the table.

Without a pause, Luke - the betrayer - bounced off his chair and tossed the letter on his phone towards him.

Dad scrolled through it. I could see the reflection on his glasses, going up then down only to go up again.

"While you are in there dad," Luke said, "don't go snooping around into my gallery. You won't like what you'd find."

"Really?" Mom turned her attention from the phone after reading the letter, dragging it over my brother. "How about I take it away? Would you like it then?"

Bold move.

Luke's life depended on his phone. He needed it for the hundreds of selfies he took for Instagram.

When dad placed the phone back, my attention was diverted. For strange reasons, my gut wrenched.

Why was a simple letter accusation bothering me?

"Is she a student?" Dad asked. I nodded. "And the rules state taking photos of only students, nobody else, right?"

"Yes," both Luke and I said in unison.

"Then as a part of the competition, unless the photo gave away some personal information, does not require consent. You are not exploiting the photo to gain money."

Air rushed to fill the vacant spaces inside my lungs. I wasn't even aware of holding my breath. Then again, since the letter was published, I was also acting strange even for me.

I had already memorized each word from her letter so well that I could narrate it even in my sleep.

Dad smiled, tapping the tip of his broad fingers on the table. "Can I see the photo?"

"No," I yelled. Luke displayed the photo.

"Wow," mom exclaimed, expanding her fingers over the screen. "Latina?"

"Indian," Luke chimed. I turned to him, surprised at his knowledge. He shrugged at me, hooking an eyebrow. "What, Jamie? Are you surprised that I know more about your girlfriend than you?"

"She is your girlfriend?" Mom gasped, looking up from the screen. "I didn't know you were dating again."

I waved my arms in the air, placing my seat back and releasing the phone from her clutches. "I haven't even talked to this girl, yet."

"Yet!" Everyone chimed before falling victim to another laughter uproar.

"Real mature, guys. Real mature," I said, clearing my plate and leaving the table. The smile on my face couldn't be erased.