"Thomas!" For the millionth time, my name gets called.

I bury my head in my pillow, groaning. After a long day at school with my head aching worse than ever, I now just want to stay in bed.

"Thomas!"

"What?" I yell back. "I'm... doing homework!"

"Mango needs to be walked and I want you to have a look at the thing I'm going to donate. Dahlia's doing this as well. See for yourself if you want to keep something."

"I don't want to keep anything," I say, words muffled into my pillow.

When my door slams open, I bury myself under my sheets.

"This is not making homework." The scowl is hearable on Mom's face as she yanks the blankets off my body. "Get up. Walk Mango, sort the things out, go do your school work."

"No," I whine, "I'm dead. Leave me to perish, please."

Mom sighs, though there's a hint of amusement in her voice. "You're not dead, Thomas. You're tired, which is your own fault. Now get up."

I blink against the bright light, rolling over. "Fine. But I'm not happy about it."

"You'll survive." But she doesn't leave. Instead, her arms cross at me. "How come you're so tired?"

"Uhm."

I don't remember.

I only remember sneaking out of my window, and then driving somewhere with Teresa, and then... I don't know.

"Whatever. You're not going to spend the entire afternoon moping in your bed while you've got things to do."

"Why can't you walk Mango?" I rub my heavy eyelids. Doesn't really work, but was worth a try. "I definitely do it way more often."

"Because I asked you, and it's your dog."

My head is still throbbing. My legs are not ready to get up at all. I don't think I'm mentally stable enough to get up at the moment.

"Technically—"

"Shut it, you nerd," she interrupts.

"Technically," I start over, "you paid for Mango, and then gave her to me. Did I ask for that? No. Do I mind? No, but technically she's not mine. So I don't always have to walk her. Same for my room. I did not pay for it, so it's not for me to clean."

"You're a bratty nerd. And you did ask for her." She legit throws the sheets a few feet away from me so I can no longer reach them. They're literally banished across my room.

Now, defenseless against cruel elements like harsh daylight and the reality of air, I twist around on the place my lonely cocoon once was, wailing.

"Get up," Mom repeats, now sterner. "Walk Mango, check the stuff. Fine, for all I care, you don't do your homework, but you'll listen to my tasks."

"Yes, yes." I drag myself up. "Doing this under protest."

Mom starts heading out of my room. "Noted. Now hurry up before Mango starts a protest on her own. You'll be the one getting poop out of the carpet."

"Just let me put my sheets—"

"You're not touching those sheets before you've walked Mango, Thomas." With her arms crossed, she watches me drastically exit my room.

When I'm halfway down the stairs, she adds, "Oh, you forgot a shirt."

I look down at my bare chest, then up at her. "Can you hand me—"

"Nope."

"Mom!"

Huffing and puffing, I force myself back in my room to put on the most random shirt I find, then hurry down the stairs to walk Mango the fastest I've ever done.

"Jeez—" I nearly trip over the boxes Mom put down. What are... right. The things to donate. I see dozens of bottles of oils, ones she uses to massage people (she's a massage therapist). These must be the ones she doesn't like or accidentally ordered or doesn't need or whatever the hell her reason is.

I crouch down beside the boxes. It takes a few minutes to smell all the oils. I choose the best ones, like three of them, and slip them in my pocket. Teresa will like them. Maybe I'll give one of them to Viviette. Or to Finn. His birthday is slowly coming up and he's a boxer.

Yes, I can be a pain in Minho's ass. Finn will definitely ask him to massage the sore muscles after a fight, with the oil.

Other than that, I see multiple copies of her old book The First Stars. About how the gods were born, explained in words for a first grade kid. Sage and I used to read that when we were younger. Might as well keep one of those for myself.

Then there's a peep beside me. I look up, eyes meeting Mango's. They're big and brown and dramatically sad.

"Yes, patience," I hiss.

She looks at me like she's saying 'what if I make you wait hours before you can do your job at the toilet?' and that does it for me.

About ten minutes later, I'm on my way back from walking Mango. My usual routine is to go behind the house, into a field with some flowers, then up the hill. Sometimes, I let Mango run around the beach or even in the sea. Usually happens when Teresa is also with me and we're taking a longer walk.

Viviette prefers to just stay at the field the whole time. No hills to go up and down. Just high grass and flowers, which she picks while Mango ruins the possibility of more plants growing by peeing on them. Or is that... fertilizer?

I look up at her house. Same as mine. White bricks, small veranda, little path that leads to it. It just becomes clearer that my mom likes to craft, as she hung all types of things around. From dream catchers to paintings.

Our house is more empty, though. I mean, it includes three people, not five. There's four bedrooms upstairs in both our houses. At Sage's, they're all in use. Only three of them are in use at mine. One for my parents, one for me, and one for Mom's work. Can be annoying my room is right next to that one; every time she has client, I have to be silent. Can't make a single sound. Understandable, of course, but annoying.

The other one is mostly used for guests. It got smaller when Dad worked on getting me my own bathroom (which I'm really proud of). Still useful, though.

For example, I can, not saying I will, invite Vi over for a sleepover and have her sleep there. Everything fine. I literally had a whole talk with Tes about how Viviette has always been my best friend and I'm hoping she doesn't expect me to drop Vi just because she's also a girl.

Which doesn't really make sense anyway because Teresa knows it would be the same problem if it were a boy, but still.

Whatever, she easily agreed and said that she didn't want to get between our friendship at all, and I'm really glad about that.

If she wouldn't have accepted it, something must've gone wrong when I thought she'd be a perfect girlfriend.

So, perfect. Keep the best friend, keep the amazing girlfriend, keep the other friends.