Carla Mason:

Eric and I have been spending a lot of time together lately. We walk to school and back home together, talking about a multitude of things, ranging over AP psychology to the minuscule details of our own lives. In the evenings we meet at the park, where Eric reads humongous books on science while I draw on my notepad. Sometimes, he peers over my shoulder to watch me draw. Other times, I lay down with him, side by side in the prickling grass while he briefs me on what he has read. Later, we both direct our gazes to the sky, watching the sun kiss goodbye in hues of orange and red.

The sting of a sharp pencil tip being poked into my arm breaks me out of my reverie. Eric drops the pencil, smiling lazily at me. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Since Eric has been sitting next to me in class, he has also taken it upon himself to break my chain of thoughts every time I drift off during a lecture. Even though there is no one in class right now—Mr. Keating has left the room to get some papers—Eric still thinks it is his duty to bring me back to the moment.

I rub the spot on my arm where he poked me with his pencil. "Jeez, Eric. It wouldn't kill you to be gentle. Also, Mr. Keating isn't even in class right now." I pick the pencil up, twirling it between my fingers. "You have the authority to pierce me with sharp pencils only during lectures."

In my periphery, the death glare Stephanie has been shooting me is visible with dangerous clarity. I try to ignore it, but Eric catches her disgusted look as well.

"What's up with her?" he asks, nodding in her direction. "She doesn't hang out with you anymore, does she?

"No," I say, slumping in my seat. Ever since Eric and I have become friends, Stephanie has been hating on me, despite my frequent assurances that the friendship the two of us share is strictly platonic. "I don't think she likes me so much anymore."

"Anymore?" Eric repeats, raising his eyebrows. "Is there something I should know?"

I move to take a glance at Stephanie, and for a beat, we hold each other's gazes. Then Stephanie turns away, every line of her face scrunched up in disgusted. Beside me, Eric makes an impatient noise, his look questioning. I sigh and tell him to pull his chair closer.

The creak of the seat being pulled across the tiled floor echoes throughout the classroom, causing a few people to whip their heads in our direction. Among the pair of eyes that are raking us, none of them seem to belong to Stephanie. Gladly.

"So," I say as Eric leans his ear towards my mouth. "I don't really know how to tell this to you. Or even if I should be disclosing this to you, but hey, she is the one who is forcing me to do this..."

"Cut to the chase, Carla."

I sigh. "Fine. Stephanie has a crush on you and she thinks I am trying to steal her man."

Eric pulls away so quickly that I have to right my chair to prevent it from toppling over. He whips his head in Stephanie's direction, who, luckily is too busy gazing out the window to notice her crush staring at her with eyes threatening to come out of their sockets. I seize him by the arm.

"Don't look, you idiot," I scold, my voice barely above a whisper. "She'll know we're talking about her."

When Eric turns to face me, his face is beet root red; as if, defying all science, all the blood from the rest of his body has risen to his cheeks. His reaction is comedic enough for me to double over with laughter.

"Really?" Eric asks, taking a brief glance at her. The sunlight from the window is washing over Stephanie's warm features, making her skin glow with a beautiful radiance. Her gaze is still directed to the view outside, though there isn't much to appreciate besides the bricked wall surrounding our school. "Are you sure she likes me? Has she ever said it to you? Or are you doing that thing again where you assume everything about a person's existence without getting to know them?"

I smack Eric on the arm. "That was one time. Let go of it, okay?"

"It's just funny, you know," Eric says. "I am probably the most unfortunate kid on the block, and you thought my life was perfect. Hilarious."

"Everything seems so easy from afar, doesn't it?" I say, positioning my chin on my outstretched palm. "Who would think I have wasted parents and a sibling that stubbornly ignores me? Though I think the trauma I go through sometimes shines through. But you?" I say, meeting his gaze. "Nobody would be able to guess that you even have problems. Your cheerful personality conceals everything perfectly."

The ghost of smile dances on Eric's lips. "I am glad it does," he says, straightening in his chair. "That's precisely how I want it to be."

"Why?" I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Why would you want to hide everything?"

Eric remains quiet for a while, staring silently ahead. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, he is cut off by the thud of Mr. Keating's boots as they tap against the tiled floor. The Science teacher launches into a lecture as soon as he enters, the students struggling to scribble out decipherable lecture notes. I look in Eric's direction for a long time, but he refuses to meet my gaze, furiously writing away the lecture. I move to pick my pencil up too.

And just like that, the opportunity to have the answer to my question fizzles out.

****

I am sitting on the same concrete bench I sit on every day in the park. It is cool against my skin and cracked in places, having been exposed to all types of weathers and storms. Moss covers its legs where it meets the ground. Eric is lying down in the grass below, face up, holding a book in his outstretched arms.

I am drawing this black and yellow butterfly, which Eric says is called Swallowtail. He also says it is very rare and by rare, I know he means that they are very difficult to find, but I think it is rare in the sense that it is precious. It is colorful and exotic and vivid and I worry I am going to spend all of my black color pencils trying to draw it perfectly. When I am done drawing it, I place my notepad on the bench and look up. Eric is gazing up at the sun-kissed clouds and humming to himself. His book is closed, lying on the rustling grass which is interspersed with weeds and flowers. I join him there.

"Done with your studying for the day, Professor?" I ask, and he smiles ever so faintly. "What were you reading about today?"

"Remember the hormone I told you about the other day?" Eric asks, turning to face me. The cool air whistles in the grass around us, and runs through his hair, causing them to fall in his eyes. "The one related with love and motivation?"

I rack my brain for the answer. "Dopamine?"

Eric nods vigorously, beaming like a proud mom. "Yes, exactly that one. I was reading about that."

"You forgot to add pupil dilation to the list of dopamine's functions," I say, after a pause. A blush sears through Eric's cheeks, eliciting a laugh from me. He punches me lightly on the arm, then continues to stare at the sky as the sun continues its descent.

The two of us sit together in a moment of quiet, listening to the chirping of the birds, taking in the glorious radiance with which the sun sinks further below the horizon. The calm of the evening envelopes us like a blanket, providing us a sanctuary from the storms threatening to wreck our lives. Eric turns to face me, a soft breath escaping from his lips.

"I can't, Carla," he says, breaking the soothing silence.

I meet his gaze. "Can't what?"

"I know you want Stephanie and I to get together." He pulls out blades of grass from their roots, holding them in his outstretched palm. The gust of a strong wind sends them flying around in the air, carried by the currents. From a distance, the faint cawing of a crow is audible. "But that—it just isn't possible. Uncle Roy won't keep me in his house forever, you know? There's a limit to everybody's mercy. He has been kind enough to let us stay for now, but there's no guarantee his kindness would last. I need to start earning as soon as possible, because with my dad's income, we can't afford to live in the city. There's just too many expenses. That means I have to start working as soon as I can. And I won't be able to manage a healthy, lasting relationship with all of this. Not with so much pressure on my shoulders."

Eric lets out a long breath, then lies down on the grass, staring up at the sky. There's nothing I can say. I watch him as he rubs the moisture in his eyes, and realize that there's no worse feeling in the world than utter hopelessness. After a while, I lie down next to him, slipping his hand into mine. He gives it a squeeze, and I give him a reassuring one back, as if holding on tight to each other would prevent our worlds from falling apart.

*****

Author's note: Writing this chapter was definitely a struggle, but I am so glad to have finally posted it! Sorry for missing out on update day, once again. I was on a tiny hiatus (again) and I am still trying to find my bearings. A levels is basically your nose in a book all day; my brain is fried by the time I am done studying. But worry not. I have most of the next chapter written very roughly in my drafts. Hopefully, I'll be able to piece it all together by next Sunday! see you then :)

-RZ