Carla Mason: 
         

"I think you should call Jackie over," Mama suggests as she pours out a mug of coffee from the coffee machine. The air in the dining hall is thick with the smell of her drink. She raises the white china cup to her mouth, looking over its rim at me.

It's an effort not to flinch. "Mama, I think it's good if we limit the friendship to lunch table hangouts for now."

"But I thought you said you got along really well?"

I set my spoon down on the table. It connects with my bowl of cereal, the clang echoing throughout the room. "I know you're only trying to help, but I can handle this on my own. I've had friends before. I am aware of how it all works."

Setting her cup down, she gives me a worried look. "It's just that you seem so...guarded all the time, Carla. I am only concerned."

"You don't have to worry about me," I say, getting off my chair. I sling my bag over my shoulder, all ready for yet another day at college. "I am fine. Aren't you getting late for work, anyway?"

"You're right, I should probably get dressed," she says. Then to my surprise, Mama walks over to me, throwing her arms around my petite figure. She runs her bony fingers through my hair. "I don't want you to let your past get in the way of your future. After Eric—"

I squirm out of her embrace before she has the chance to complete her sentence. "It's almost eight; the bus is probably here."

Without a backward glance at her, I rush out the door, eager to escape the conversation we were almost about to delve into. The subject of my friendship with Eric has always been of great interest to Mama, but it's something I am better off discussing with anyone.

The wound he's inflicted has almost healed, but not enough to pull the band off just yet. Give it a few more months, and my heart would be clean of all and any scars, like it hadn't suffered an injury in the first place.

****

English class is the first one on my schedule. I take my usual seat by the window, staring out it like there is something to admire. Jackie enters class but does not sit next to me, even though the chair beside me is vacant. To be honest, I didn't expect her too either. Lunch with me was a disaster. I spoke only when spoken to so for the most part, there was a huge blanket of awkward silence covering our lunch table. That did not in any way make me uncomfortable, considering it was exactly what I was aiming for, but it was really suffocating Jackie. She kept glancing around, hoping someone would join us, or ask her to join them.

I had to lie to Mama about us getting along, though. She kept asking if I'd made any friends, and I needed to say something to silence her.

As I glance around the classroom, my eyes meet with Jackie's, who has the decency to spare me a weak smile. I give her one back.

It's a few minutes later that the English teacher enters the class, introducing himself as Frank Merlin. It's his first class with us today, but just from the aura he gives out, I already know he's one of the 'cool teachers'—those who try, and fail miserably, might I add, to be friends with their students.

He begins talking about the importance of words and the beauty of language, which is enough vapidity for me to zone out of his boring lecture. Admittedly, whatever he is saying is impressive to listen but none of it is real talk. People rarely stop to reflect on what they are thinking. There is little substance behind what we say, and little truth in the promises we make.

"I am fairly certain you all must have heard of the famous quote by Norman Vincent Peale," he is saying. "'Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars'. It is indeed a beautiful saying, don't you all agree?"

A collective noise of assent passes over the class. I don't respond.

Somebody says something and Mr. Merlin looks surprised. I zone back in for the drama.

"I don't quite understand the meaning of this quote, Sir," the same person says. The voice carries a hint of familiarity to it and I look around for the source. From the bobbing heads of the students, it is hard to see who it is.

Mr. Merlin arches his eyebrows. "This is a very simple quote, I believe. What is it that you are failing to understand?"

Students start moving their heads so Mr. Merlin can directly see the student. I look around for him too.

And that's when I see him. Sitting there, in all flesh. It is the same ebony hair, the same awkward smile, the same dimple appearing only on his left cheek. I still find it strange.

My heart sinks to my stomach.

"No offence to Norman Vincent, but I don't think he is making a lot of sense with his quote," Eric begins. "See, the Moon is at distance of 384,400 kilometers from the Earth and the nearest star, which is the Sun, is 93 million miles away. That is approximately 149.6 million kilometers, which means the nearest star is about 147 million kilometers farther away from the Moon. If you are shooting for the stars, then it is possible you can fall short and end up on the moon. But you can't aim for the moon and land on the stars. It is not possible, scientifically."

Jenny's advice, which I paid no heed to, starts ringing furiously in my ears.

Eric might not hurt you, Carla, but loving him can.

The words Eric's aunt spit out at me when I ringed her doorbell on a particular evening ring in ears.

They have moved out; out of this house, of this neighborhood, of this city.

Mr. Merlin is laughing like he already adores Eric.

The pencil I have been clutching clatters to the ground, piquing Eric's attention. He looks in my direction and his eyes widen, threatening to come out of their sockets.

Our gazes meet. I stare back at him.

After several attempts at trying to say something, he finally settles on, "Carla." And just like that, the world around us melts away and we're looking into each other's eyes, back in time to the calm evening where I made a drawing of us staring at the mauve sky above us and Eric decided we'd come alive out of our storms and I asked if we would clean the wreckage together and he said of course and I believed him.

We are staring at all the hollow promises we made to each other, at all the dreams and the desires; at the suns as they sank into the horizon and disappeared, at the times it rained for the first time and everything carried the scent of petrichor.

I break the gaze. My eyes feel like they are burning and I bite into my bottom lip to keep the tears from spilling. Mr. Merlin coughs to get Eric's attention. I can feel the weight of his attention, of Eric's, Jackie's, the emos, the back benchers, the jocks, the nerds, and the singing guy all on me. Refusing to look up, I keep my line of sight glued to my desk.

The both of us have made a complete joke out of ourselves. Mr. Merlin is saying something but his voice feels like it is coming from afar. It feels as if he is on the Sun, ninety three million miles away. His voice is a faded echo and what is drilling into my ears is the voice of Eric's aunt as she told me that he has left.

They have moved out; out of this house, of this neighborhood, of this city.

I pick up a pencil and begin drawing a Control Diagram to prevent the potential tears from rolling down my face.

*****
Author's note: phew! writing this chapter was a struggle, but i quite like the end product. Eric & Carla have met again. But will things between the pair be the same? i guess only the future chapters can answer this question ;)

thank you for reading!

-RZ