Looking back on Homecoming night, I had to admit I might have overreacted when I flipped out on Alexander. Just a little. Maybe the yelling was over the top. The dramatic, heel-turning, hair-tossing exit was definitely a little out there.

With the way Louisa and Amelia were treating me, though, you would’ve thought I had crucified Alexander and left him tied to the back of a pickup truck for dead.

“I still can’t believe how badly you treated poor Alexander on Homecoming night,” Louisa sighed melodramatically as the three of us struggled to figure out trig substitution together. “Don’t you realize how many girls would have killed to be you that night?”

“Why are we still talking about stuff that happened three weeks ago?” I snapped. Between homework and tests and projects and all my freaking college applications, my patience, which was always thin these days, was dangerously close to running out.

“Because I need to keep repeating myself until the message sinks in, Nancy.”

I looked to Amelia for help, but she was scrolling through her phone and barely paying attention. When she realized both Louisa and I had gone quiet to stare at her, Amelia finally just shrugged at me and chewed on the end of her pencil thoughtfully.

“You did treat Alexander pretty badly,” she reflected.

I scowled. “He deserved it.”

“For what, being chivalrous? Helping out a fellow competitor? Looking out for the girl he likes?”

I snorted. “Alexander definitely doesn’t like me. And besides, all those are just nicer ways of saying that he thinks my intelligence is beneath his and that we can’t compete on the same level.”

“C’mon, that’s not even close. Do you have to overanalyze everything?” Louisa groaned.

I felt my temper start to flaree a little. “I’m not overanalyzing. I’m being practical. I don’t need a guy who can’t even see me on the same level as him,” I said sourly.

Louisa sighed melodramatically and then threw me a disgusted look. “Seriously, do you hear yourself?” she demanded. “You sound like every freaking cliche feminist ever.”

“Yeah? That’s great. That’s better than throwing myself at the first thing with male organs that comes by.”

Louisa rolled her eyes. “Geez, you know what your problem is? You’re always getting so high-strung over the insignificant little things. Not just boys, either. Grades. Extracurriculars. Competitions. Learn to chill once in a while.”

For a moment, I was taken aback by the sudden iciness in Louisa’s tone, but I recovered myself in time. “Excuse me?” I snapped.

“Hey,” Amelia said, leaning in warily right into the line of fire between Louisa and me. “You guys aren’t seriously fighting over this, are you?”

Were we? I glared at Louisa. I didn’t know if we were fighting for real now, but I sure as heck wasn’t going to pretend her words hadn’t stung. “I’m not high strung. And even if I were, it’s better to be high strung about grades than a failure in school like you are.”

I knew in an instant that I’d gone too far. I'd way overstepped the line. I wanted to take the words back immediately, but it was too late. The damage was done.

“Nancy! What are you saying?” Amelia gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth. She turned desperately to Louisa. “Don’t listen to a word of that nonsense. It’s the college app stress talking.”

Amelia was way too late. I could tell Louisa didn’t buy it. Her face turned a deep shade of red, and she clenched her jaw tightly.

“Fine,” she spat out at last, her voice shaking. “You know what? It’s fine. I’ll just leave.” Louisa stood up and began rapidly cramming her books and pens into her backpack, making a racket that caused the rest of the class to stare at her.

“Louisa, sit down,” Amelia hissed, tugging on Louisa’s sleeve. Louisa just ignored her and kept shoving materials into her backpack, so Amelia whirled on me with frustration written all over her face. “This is so freaking stupid. Just tell her you’re sorry!”

I just stared back at Amelia and bit my lip, feeling guilty but too angry to stop Louisa from zipping up her backpack. Why did I have to be the first one to apologize? Louisa had picked a fight with me while I was stretched to the breaking point with stress. She could deal with her own freakin’ repercussions.

“Amelia, it’s fine,” Louisa said in a high voice that sounded completely unlike her own. “It’s totally fine. I always figured this would happen one day or another. I’m too stupid to be friends with Little Miss Valedictorian, anyway.”

Amelia looked shocked. “Louisa—”

She laughed mirthlessly. “Maybe it’s better that this happened sooner rather than later. Why the hell did I think we could be friends in the first place?”

I knew I should have said something. I should have at least tried to stop Louisa from walking away. But I didn’t. I had too much pride, so I didn’t.

While Amelia and I looked on helplessly, Louisa turned around and stomped toward the only group of white boys in the class. I saw her say something to them, and they nodded eagerly. Of course they did. For most of those guys, this was probably the most interaction they’d had with a female their age in all of high school.

Then Louisa pulled up a chair next to the guys and resolutely dumped her belongings onto the table. She pulled out her notebook and kept working on the problem set. A few minutes later, Louisa was laughing at something one of the guys had said.

She never looked back.

Amelia and I sat in silence for a while. The boys who’d been watching the fight eagerly returned to their calculus homework after I shot them all you’re-next glares.

“What the hell,” Amelia said eventually, “just happened.”

“Something that’s been coming for a while,” I said. And even though the words had poured out absently from my mouth, as soon as they registered in my brain, I knew they were true.

Louisa Kim was so different from Amelia and me. From the first day we’d met each other, a clash like this was bound to happen. It was fate. Unavoidable.

Wasn’t it?

“We’ll give it a day,” Amelia suggested, her voice sounding strained, like she was still shocked. “We’ll give it a day, and then Louisa will have to come back to our table again. Right?”

“Right,” I said absently.

Even if the argument had been a result of high stress and motor mouths, I couldn’t help but realize there was a note of truth behind what Louisa had said: she really didn’t fit in next to Amelia and me. She was always the black sheep, even among friends. She never got the highest grades, nor did she have any aspirations of attending universities outside of our crappy state school.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the real question wasn’t whether or not Louisa belonged in our group. It was why she even wanted to hang out with Amelia and me in the first place.

I wondered if I wanted Louisa to come back. I wondered for the first time how anyone was supposed to know which friendships were worth salvaging, and which ones were better off just left to rot.

*****

Maybe it was karma for saying terrible things to Louisa, but I caught the stomach flu for the next week and a half.

It was quite possibly the worst case of stomach flu to hit this side of the country, and at the very worst possible period of time. My early action application was due for Harvard at the end of the week. Instead of working on that, I spent the bulk of my precious remaining days sleeping and barfing up whatever food Mom had to force down my throat.

I couldn’t study. Couldn’t revise my essays. Couldn’t even muster the energy to get out of bed.

Mom wasn’t exactly thrilled about missing work to take care of me, either.

“Your brother’s still not making a peep, and now you’re bed ridden,” she sighed as she force-fed me some weird Chinese medicine that smelled and tasted like paint. “I’m worried, Nancy. I’m worried to death about you two.”

She was literally worried to death. Mom was aging at the speed of light, new wrinkles and stress lines popping up onto her face like pimples on a pre-teen. I tried to convince Mom that I was okay and that she should get back to work…but then I barfed over the side of the bed.

Note to self: barfing all over the carpet is not an ideal way to prove that you’re capable of looking after yourself.

Even though I still felt horrible the day before the deadline, I got out of bed, took some medicine, and forced myself to polish up the essays. They had to be perfect—or as darn near perfect as I could get them.

I wasn’t a fool. I knew that even with my credentials, the chances of getting into Harvard were very, very slim. The chances of getting into Harvard with Alexander Lin’s application being compared to mine made that very, very slim chance about a thousand times smaller. So slim that there was hardly any point to applying anymore.

But the thing was, Harvard was the ultimate dream for my parents, and most other Chinese parents. Harvard was the epitome of all that mattered in life. Harvard was life.

I couldn’t not apply to Harvard. Mom and Dad would have been so disappointed. And Kevin would have gladly gloated in my face—well, if he ever decided to come back home.

Mom was staying home again, so she fed me medicine or bits of food every so often as I clacked away at my laptop. When she didn’t appear for a while and my throat burned with dehydration, I croaked, “Mom?”

No answer.

“Mom?”

Still no answer.

I figured Mom just couldn’t hear me because she was blasting some old Chinese music through her ear buds while doing yoga or playing freaky Asian ballerina something. I’d caught her in the act more than a couple of times, and yes, it was just as awkward as it sounded.

I finally mustered the strength to go downstairs for a drink of water, though I had to stop several times. A few feet away from the kitchen, I stopped, though this time it wasn’t because I felt light-headed. I heard voices coming from the kitchen.

Shoot, was Mom talking to herself now? Had she been driven off the edge by my nonstop barfing? 

Then a low male voice answered, “I’ve been well, thanks,” in Mandarin, and my heart nearly stopped.

I didn’t want to hear that voice. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that voice. I didn’t want the owner of that voice sitting here, now, right smack in the middle of my kitchen.

Yet he was. Alexander Lin was sitting comfortably in my house, conversing in perfect, rapid-fire Mandarin with my Mom. Because of course his Mandarin was fantastic. Of course. It was even better than mine, and I got compliments on my authentic pronunciation all the time.

Nothing in this world could have possibly surprised me anymore. Least of all learning that I had once again been outdone by Alexander Lin.

“…The assignments she’s been missing,” I heard him say. The rustling sound of paper floated to my ears.

“All of these?” Mom squawked.

“Yes. There’s a lot Nancy has to make up for her AP classes, so she’ll have to get stared as soon as possible.”

“Oh, thank you,” I heard Mom gush. “You’re a saint. Nancy is really lucky to have a boyfriend like you.”

“What?” I yelped, nearly giving away my position. Thankfully, the hum of the refrigerator picked up just then, and my yell was disguised. I guess even my luck had to be un-crappy sometimes.

In the kitchen, I could tell Alexander was flustered. It was endearing for a moment before I remembered I was currently back to hating his guts. “

“Oh, well—that is, we aren’t, um…dating…” he stammered.

“Really? But Nancy likes you so much!” Mom said.

I reeled in shock. What the hell? When had I ever even mentioned Alexander in her presence? Geez, it was just like Mom to twist the facts like this.

“R-really?” Alexander said, his voice almost hopeful.

Okay, that was it. It was time to step in before Mom signed the papers to my own marriage without my consent. I cleared my throat loudly and stepped into the kitchen.

“Oh!” Mom looked shocked and a little guilty. “Nancy! I didn’t know you were standing there.”

Alexander looked even more flustered. He averted his eyes and fumbled for the pages of my homework. To my horror, I found myself admiring the fact that he looked sharp in a freshly pressed dress shirt.

Get a hold of yourself, Nancy. This is no time to be drooling over the enemy!

“Uh…hi,” Alexander muttered to the paper.

I marched my ragged, sickly self up to the table and glared down at Mom and Alexander, who looked up at me guiltily.

“First things first,” I said slowly. I picked up the bag of Wonderbread sitting on the table. “Mom, stop lying to our precious guests. I’ll sooner marry this piece of bread than even think about Alexander in that way.”

Mom gave me a warning sort of look. “Nancy—”

“I do not like him like that. In fact, I don’t like him in any way.” As soon as the words left my mouth, for some inexplicable reason, guilt prickled in my gut.

“I’m sitting right here,” Alexander said sourly.

I paused and frowned. If it was true that I didn’t like Alexander even the teeniest, tiniest bit...then why was I feeling guilty about saying it?

“Secondly,” I continued, deciding to ignore the odd feeling in the pit of my stomach, “Amelia’s the one who agreed to get me the homework I missed. The last time I checked, your name was not Amelia.”

Mom looked scandalized. “Nancy!’ she hissed. “What tone of voice are you using on our guest?”

“The kind of tone he deserves.”

“You wound me,” Alexander said. “Amelia said something came up today, so she had me deliver your homework instead. I’m glad my effort has been so well appreciated.”

I scowled. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of a good comeback before Mom gave me a sharp thwack on the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s for being rude to a guest,” Mom snapped.

I threw her a disgruntled look. “Do you always abuse the sickly?”

“Nancy, go back to your room. You’re going to spread your germs to Alexander.”

“Argh, you foiled the plan,” I said sarcastically as I moved past Alexander and back toward the stairs. I thought I could feel his gaze heating my back all the way up into my room. Or maybe that was the stomach flu medicine finally kicking in.

About time. It had taken a week for those nasty-tasting suckers to finally do the job.

Just as I settled in front of my laptop again, fighting a fresh wave of nausea, a message for me popped up on Facebook.

Kevin: I’m going 2 b in town this weeknd. I’ll be at the local Starbcks Sat. morning if u want to talk. Dont bring mom n dad. Dont try to trace this messge. OtherwIse, I’ll leave agin n never come back.

It took me a moment to even decipher what Kevin was saying.

Nancy: Would it kill you to use spell check? My eyes are bleeding.

Nancy: Also, you are one sick SOB to make our parents worried like this. Do you even know what they’re going through without you here?!

Kevin: Peace?

Nancy: It’s like you don’t even care!

Kevin: R you coming out or not? I’m on a tight scedule.

Nancy: You have got to be the worst freaking son in the world.

Nancy: You suck at being a brother, too.

Nancy: You just...suck.

Nancy: But fine. I’ll be there.

*****

A/N - So, not that exciting of a chapter, but it's something. Big stuff will finally start happening in the next few chapters. Yay :D My exams are basically over, so I have a lot more time to write now. Expect a return to regular updates again :)