(Starts the same day as the last chapter)


He must have fallen asleep again because he wakes up two hours later listening to Ava scream. If she was screaming because she was hurt, he would understand, but the five year old is just watching a show on Stephen's tablet and thinks screaming is the same thing as singing along. He throws a pillow in her general direction, intending to scare her into shutting up, but it just antagonizes her further. Jack sighs and checks his phone; there's a text from Kim saying they were at Phil's until 7:00 and he should join them. More like, "let me confront you in front of everyone." Jack knows in his gut that he shouldn't go until he talks privately with Kim, but he misses his friends and feels cramped in his house. Coupled with Ava being obnoxious, he's itching to leave.

Jack is dropped off just outside the restaurant, and he grits his teeth. Kim won't call him out - not in front of the guys and certainly not when they're in public. He hopes, anyway.

They're sitting in their usual booth when Jack walks in. The bell over the door chimes sweetly as they fall silent at the table. Jack hovers next to the empty seat, not sure how to act. "Hey, guys," he says.

Jerry leans over and pokes Jack's arm. Turning to Kim and Milton, he announces, "Yup, he's real." Satisfied, Jerry leans back in his seat with his arms crossed. Jack slides in next to Jerry, and watches his friends for any reaction.

"How was Colorado?" Kim asks, in an awkward tone, keeping her eyes on her hands. Jack hesitates. Was she purposely trying to catch him? Or was she trying to help sell the lie to Jerry and Milton?

"It was good. Cold." Rudy must have lied to them.

Milton slaps his hand on the table, making Jack jump. "Cut the crap. We know you weren't in Colorado. Rudy's a terrible liar. Where were you?"

"Milton, literally anything Rudy says sounds like a lie. That's just how he talks," Kim argues, but she still won't look at Jack.

"He was definitely lying," Milton says.

"I agree," Jerry adds. "Where were you, man? If you were in Colorado, you would have had time to text us back."

"I was busy skiing, spending time with family, and stuff," Jack defends.

"You're breaking the Wasabi Code."

Jack's head snaps up to look at Milton. For once, he can't spit out a lie. "You're not being honest," the redhead says.

Jack's frozen in place. He knows he's breaking the code, but to be called out on it -what is he supposed to say to that?

"Milton-"

"It was one thing to not show up Friday after you promised you would. Another to not say anything about it, to not even apologize. And now you're just sitting there, ready to lie your way out of it. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but I won't continue being friends with someone I can't trust."

Milton glares at Jack, daring him to defend himself. Jerry and Kim are both silent as if they expected Milton to rant like this, and Jack watches Kim deliberately put the packets of Splenda and regular sugar in order. Please look at me, he thinks. Let me know that at least we're okay. She keeps her head down, and Jack finally faces Milton. "You can trust me," he says. "I've never done anything for you to lose trust."

"Then tell us where you really were. Because it sure as hell wasn't Colorado, and I don't want to play a guessing game."

Jack looks away. If he says that he spent the time in the hospital, they would panic and assume he's dying of cancer or someshit, but if he says anything else they'll know he's lying. He should have known they would eventually see through of the lies he's painted. "Milton, I'm sorry. I missed Friday, but you are being over dramatic-"

"No, I'm not!" he yells. Several people turn to see what's happening, and Milton flushes red at the sudden attention before steeling himself and continuing in a quieter voice. "I get it, Jack. You're popular and likeable, so if we lose the dojo and each other, you'll be fine making other friends, but me? I'll have the principle clarinetist and a guy from AV for friends. And they're great, but it's not the same. I'll go back to being bullied by the Dragons, and you'll forget we were ever friends. It's not that big of a deal for you, but I need the dojo to make it through high school."

Jack tries to shrink further into the plastic red seat, trying to disappear. He wants to argue that no, he hasn't always been popular, that he had run from his previous school with his tail tucked between his legs, but that would crack his perfect illusion. He's put too much energy into this facade, and he's not willing to give it up; they'll have to pry the truth out of his cold hands. "You think I want to go back to Randy and all the other stoned skaters? I understand what you're saying, and I really am sorry for missing it. What more do you want me to say? And didn't you get a new sensei? Missing students isn't the end all."

Jerry swirls his straw around in the paper cup. "We found a guy, but we're already low on students, Rudy's been chasing away the few remaining because he keeps saying he's closing, and without the demo to bring the attendance back up, there are, like, ten students left to teach. It was pointless, trying to recruit him." Jerry shakes his head bitterly. "Look, man, no matter how many times you say sorry, it won't change anything. The least you could do was say the truth."

Isn't that what he said to Kai? That there's nothing he can do to take away his epilepsy? Karma's a bitch.

"What's going on, Jack?" Kim asks softly, finally turning her head in his direction.

His chest aches, dying to finally come clean. Maybe he could sleep better if he didn't have to worry what his friends thought about him… but he remembers what it was like to tell his friends in Oregon, the ones who promised they would never leave, the ones that made him hate himself, and suddenly he feels restricted, like there's a vice around his chest. The words are caught in the bottom of his throat, jumbled up, and he can't get them out; he just can't. He swallows hard. "Nothing." His voice shakes and there's heat crawling up his neck. Jack clears his throat and tries again, "I can't… tell you."

Kim sighs and glares outside the window; Milton slumps in his seat and Jerry mutters something in Spanish. Jack winces at their reactions. "Then you can't expect us to want to stick around," Kim argues. "None of us want a friend who only lies."

Jack's eyes sting from embarrassment. He tips his head down and closes his eyes, forcing the emotions back. I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine.

"What are you afraid of?" Milton asks.

I don't want to be bullied, I don't want to be second guessed, I don't want to be pitied, I don't want you to think less of me. The list could go on. "Because I don't want to be seen differently."

"I told you, you'd look the same," Kim says exasperatedly. Jack's leg bounces up and down. Is it just him or was everyone in the restaurant watching them?

Glancing at Jack's behavior, Jerry suggests, "How about we go to the dojo where it's quieter?"

It was getting stuffy in the small restaurant, and Jack leaps out of his seat. He leads the way to the dojo, keeping a distance between him and his friends. Just enough space to think and breathe and find a the right lie. Jack looks at the bright green sign over the entrance. The light is harsh, too vibrant. A fake, cheerful visage for a dojo that's fracturing.

He stands awkward in the middle of the dojo, his hands fumbling with nervous energy. What is he going to say? What will they buy? Nothing. The answer is nothing. Hell, even if he says the truth, they'll be skeptic. "Okay, Jack, you better talk. It's just us," Kim demands.

He needs another minute to think. It's getting hard to breathe again.

"We can't do anything for you if you don't talk," Jerry says.

Maybe it is time he comes clean. Living without having to hide everything… God, it would be so much easier, like unclipping a leash that has him running in circles. He turns to his friends, hopelessly. Just tell them. Without the surrounding people, Milton finally snaps. "Just stop being so damn dramatic, okay? Spit it out, for God's sake."

Jack suddenly draws away from them. They'll be disgusted by him if he tells them. Some people can be so selfish when they find out, and he can't ruin this. In his head, he assumes Milton would tell him to just get over his epilepsy, Jerry would think he's lying and Kim would be disturbed, would see him as a burden. No, he refuses to lose all of his friends again. His throat hurts looking at their faces. He can't talk or breathe, like he's having a seizure. How fucking ironic. "I can't-" he chokes out. "I'm sorry, I can't." He gasps for a breath. The dojo is hotter than the resturaunt. He needs air. His sight blurs; he can no longer see his friends or hear their voices as he shoves past them.

He's caught up in the memory of Oregon -their voices tease and pull at him, begging him to talk.

"Oh, c'mon, Jack. We're friends aren't we?"

"Just tell us! We won't tell anyone."

He leans against a post outside, the cool air brushes against his hair. The night is quiet, and there aren't many people outside, thankfully. The farther away he gets, the easier it is to breathe, as bitter tears fall. He swipes them away, but it's pointless. He tumbles to a stop, his chest heaving as a loud, strangled sob releases itself. Boys aren't supposed to cry, so why does he has a breakdown every other week? Is he really that pathetic? He wipes his eyes again and looks around, trying to find his way home until he finally staggers in the door with puffy eyes. He's exhausted and numb and has a splitting headache.

His mom and Ava are on the couch, adding the legs of ants together, and it's just so goddamn normal. Why couldn't he be like that? His mind starts slipping again, and he imagines a metal sheet slamming over the path, keeping him present. He wipes his nose on his sleeve as he heads for his bedroom, but his mom jumps up, quickly noticing that something's wrong. She grabs his arm, trying to look at his face, but he keeps his eyes glued to the floor. "Jack, sweetheart, what happened?" He sniffs, shifts his weight, but can't bring himself to talk. He wants to hide from everyone. Even his mom's attention is too much. He's embarrassed at himself for crying as if he's five. "Jack," she tries again to reach him, but he can be so stubborn. She exhales softly, and pulls him into a hug. He buries his face into her shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut, and the last few tears fall onto her sweater. She runs a hand along his back, waiting for him to pull away first. Jack holds onto her fiercely until he's composed himself a little more and draws away. She puts a hand on his cheek, her brows are raised as if she's going to ask a question, but she decides against it and wipes away his tears.

"I have to get to my lecture," she says softly, glancing at the stove clock. "Take care of your brother, Ava." She gathers her keys and coat and kisses Jack's forehead. "I love you." The door closes and Jack listens to her footsteps pad down the old stairs.

Jack collapses on the couch with his sister. Ava curls into his side and rests her head on his shoulder. "What happened?" she asks innocently. Jack closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

"My friends… they wanted me to talk about my illness, but I couldn't tell them the truth, and now I don't… I don't think we're friends anymore."

"Why? Because you lied to them?" She twists around and looks at him directly. Her short hair sticks up like she took some of Stephen's hair gel. She breathes in his face. They really need to work on personal space. "Lying's bad, Jackie."

"I know," he says quietly as he leans away from her peering face. "But I don't want them to know about it. Th-they can't."

"Why?"

Ava was only an infant when they lived in Oregon, and Jack struggles for an answer. "Because when I lived in Oregon, I told my other friends about it, and they weren't nice. They liked to tease me. That's why we left."

"You were bullied?" Ava asks, frowning.

Jack blinks in surprise. He didn't think she would draw that conclusion so fast. He doesn't want her to know how shitty life before Seaford was. He's her older brother, and he wants to protect her from knowing how weak he really is.

"Yeah," he says heavily. "Promise me you'll be nice to people." He tries to smile, holding out his pinky.

"I promise," Ava says, hooking her finger around his.

"And one more thing, monkey- you don't tell Kim or Jerry or Milton about this, okay?"

"But wouldn't that be lying?"

"No, just don't go around talking about it."

"Okay." She snuggles next to him and watches as Jack turns on the Harry Potter movie marathon.

...

Jack's body is so heavy. Someone calls his name far away, but everything is foggy. Where is he? He tries to stand, but he's held down. He hears his name again, and then he realizes he's in the kitchen with his back against the stove, shoulders slumped forward. Ayla peers into his face anxiously. She holds a couple orange bottles in her hand and extends them out to him. Which ones? He takes one, and tries to read the label, but the letters blur together. He shakes his head and tries to give it back to her, but he's so tired, his arms are heavy, and the bottle clatters to the floor. He leans his head back and lets his eyes rest for a minute.

It lasts much longer than a minute when he opens them, but it can't have been much longer, for Ayla is still seated across him in the same position. One hand is still braced against his chest to keep him from standing up. Everything is muzzy. He feels both present and not as if he's merely watching something unfold. The three pill bottles are standing on the floor near his left foot, and he looks at them again, finding the right ones. Jack counts out the dose and swallows the pills. He tries to stand again and this time Ayla lets him, watching carefully to make sure he stays on both feet. He starts to walk to his room, so he can sleep for an eternity, but Ayla steps in front of him. "Are you okay? You look like you've been… crying." She says the last word delicately as if she's afraid he'll lash out and argue that he doesn't cry.

"No offense, Ayla, but just because you've seen me have two seizures now, doesn't make us friends," Jack rasps. Great, a sore throat, too. He prays she backs off because he doesn't have the energy to argue.

"I've seen more than two. This is, like, the seventh. Anyway, I'm going to take that as a yes and conclude you're still in a shitty mood about it."

Jack pauses, blinks slowly. He clearly only remembers one other seizure. "What do you mean seventh?"

"Ava's come running downstairs, hollering at least seven times, and a few times my mom or dad was home, but I came over anyway to watch Ava. There've been several other times where I was home alone. How do you not remember that?"

"I usually don't remember anything afterwards." Jack shrugs, not wanting to explain more.

Ayla barely considers his comment before jumping back to his personal life. "Are you sure you're alright? Did something happen? Oh, god, Kim confronted you didn't she? I told her not to."

She talks so fast, Jack can barely keep up. "She didn't really. Not about the fight with Kai, anyway. They just knew I was lying and demanded the truth." He steps toward his bedroom, and almost falls when he lets go of his grip on the counter. Stupid side effects. Stupid seizures. Ayla puts his arm around her shoulders and helps him to his room. In a hoarse whisper, Jack says, "I think I lost my friends again." He lands heavily on his bed, tipping onto his side. He covers his face with his hands. "Oh god, what have I done?" he groans. Ayla looks at him sympathetically.

"They'll come around," she says, but her tone is a false cheerfulness. The same tone she uses with her patients at the hospital. Jack shakes his head.

"If it's like Oregon… they won't." His eyes slide out of focus, and falls into a restless sleep.


Thank you, Vicky2015 and optimistic girl94! Your reviews and continued support mean a lot. I hope to hear from more people!

Why does Biology have to be so hard?

-Rui