Chapter 7: Eyrik in the Sky With Diamonds

Date: Tuesday, October 19

Time: 10:18 a.m.

Place: Wawanakwa Academy; West Wing

Boredom always precedes a period of great creativity. That was certainly a fact. But, in the midst of the last five minutes of Mr. Nolan's AP Calculus class, he wasn't bored. Not in the slightest. No, Eyrik Banks was never bored. Boredom was inconsequential. There was always something new to see. The more appropriate word to use in this situation would be uninterested.

As Mr. Nolan droned on and on about linear approximations, Eyrik could feel himself getting lost in his distractingly large blonde afro. A definite unusual trait, but unique to his own personality. It was only when the immensely sized man had halted his rant to ask a question to the class open to speculation, had Eyrik began to focus his attention again. His pitch-black pupils fixated themselves into place as the man spoke.

"Suppose you drop a basketball from a height of ten feet. After it hits the floor, it reaches a height of seven point five equals ten times three-fourths feet. After it hits the floor for the second time, it reaches a height of five point six two five equals seven point five times three-fourths, equals ten times three-fourths squared and so on."

Eyrik grasped for his pencil, distressing in the fact that Mr. Nolan happened to adopt a lectured style of teaching, rarely ever writing anything on the board unless necessary. He was excessively vocal in explaining his instruction style as purely for the purpose of preparing his students for the fast pace of college courses. But, that of course meant that the students had to pay more close attention to his words. Eyrik was already on the fifteenth sheet of paper in his notebook when he started to jot down the numerical details of the application problem. His handwriting had already been below average in terms of size.

He trekked closer to the students.

Mr. Nolan continued, "Does the ball ever come to rest, and if so, what total vertical distance will it have traveled? Remember, use the formulas that I have provided you to solve this problem. Raise your hand when you have come to a conclusion." He then waddled over to his desk to the far left of the classroom, plunking down his rump into the barely stable rolling chair. Eyrik shrunk under his dark cloak, resting his gaze on the notebook laying on his desk. Slowly, but surely, Eyrik began to do the problem. As he approached the last step, checking his previous work with a calculator, an eager hand shot up in the front row of the classroom. The boy had pale skin, and black spiky hair. The same boy who had answered the last five questions. Mr. Nolan heaved his chest. His puny fingers clasped together, overlapping over one another. They rested in front of him, and over his torso. Eyrik had just come to an answer when the older man produced a theatrical sigh.

"Does anyone, besides Nahliel know the answer?"

Eyrik cast his head down into the desk, not wanting to meet eyes with Mr. Nolan. He was that type of teacher. The type of teacher to call on someone at random when he wasn't satisfied with the voluntary answering pool. And if his observations were correct, he was unfortunately well over due for a random call on.

"Eyrik!" Mr. Nolan piped up.

Just as expected. The purple haired boy shook his head subtly, a few strands falling into his line of vision. But he knew, completely ignoring him and having him call his name again would just bring more unwanted attention. Eyrik propped his head up with the heel of his right hand. He rests his cheek on its light surface, moving his head into a comfortable tilt in the process.

"Eyrik, what answer did you come up with?" Mr. Nolan added.

Eyrik subconsciously looked down to his notepad. Towards the bottom of the page, a single number was neatly boxed in as the answer: 70. Mr. Nolan stalked closer to the student, well aware of his soft-spoken nature.

"Seventy feet," Eyrik mumbled, just loud enough for the adult to hear.

Mr. Nolan grinned, nodding his head and writing his answer onto the board.

"That's correct Eyrik," he commented. The abrupt ringing of the bell prompted the class to get up from their seats and collect their things. Eyrik grumbled as a handful of students pushed past him in the row behind. Once a decent deal of students had exited the classroom for lunch, he slowly began to pack his things away just as Nahliel had approached Mr. Nolan at his desk. The green-eyed boy grasped the straps of his book bag, apprehensively, before speaking.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Mr. Nolan nodded, adverting his eyes from his teaching notes for the day. He extended a hand in front of him, gesturing to a cold, vacant metal seat.

"Please, take a seat Nahliel," he responded.

Nahliel dropped his bag from his shoulders, setting it down beside him on the floor next to the chair. Mr. Nolan took a few moments after Nahliel was properly seated to explain his purpose. Eyrik eyed them from the opposite side of the classroom, casting his attention on Nahliel's fidgeting leg. The heel of his foot refused to grace the surface of the floor. He was nervous. If the way that he wrung his hands together didn't give it way, his unusual tendency of avoiding eye contact certainly did. Eyrik could tell.

"Nahliel, this is concerning your application for the National Math Honors' Society. Usually, you would have to have some kind of precedent credits entering the school system in order to merely be qualified to apply. Especially since you're exiting from a homeschool program. But, I have to say I'm impressed. Your application is outstanding to put it simply. Better than the majority of this year's applicants," Mr. Nolan smiled. He pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Nahliel sat up in his seat, his eyes lighting up at the praise. Eyrik watched his fidgeting leg settle to a more satisfying state.

"But-" Mr. Nolan started, "unfortunately, we cannot accept you."

A frown tugged visibly at the corners of Nahliel's mouth as he felt a small part of his world shatter as easy as glass.

"What do you mean? I thought I was a shoo-in. What seems to be the problem?"

Mr. Nolan attempted a nervous smile. He avoided looking the teen in the eyes. He was being passive.

"Well, you see Nahliel, everything on your application was perfect. But, I'm afraid that your lack of community service hours has caused the board to reconsider our original decision of acceptance. And I know that it's not quite your fault because you are new here. But, we here in the National Math Honors' Society value charitable deeds just as much as educational achievement."

An apparent silence came over the two, and the bystander found in Eyrik.

"So, what are you saying? I've been rejected?" he asked in a soft voice.

The brown-eyed man shook his head.

"Well, I'm not really supposed to be telling you this—but we haven't finalized our decisions yet. And since you are a senior and this is your last year, it would be a shame to have your first and last chance be unsuccessful. You're such a promising student, Nahliel. So here's what I can do for you."

Nahliel's interest peaked dramatically, as well as Eyrik's. Nahliel looked to the man frantically, desperate for a last resort. If he could put the prestigious national society on his college transcript with diplomatic documentation, he would have that extra edge to get into his most desired college. These are the things that they look for, that separate an ordinary student from an extraordinary student. He blinked slowly.

"Whatever it takes," he muttered. Mr. Nolan nodded, pulling a large yellow folder out from his desk drawer. The older man sets an awkward gaze on Eyrik before continuing.

"I have a student in my tenth grade Geometry class that is currently failing my class. This is a copy of his most recent test scores."

Nahliel grasped the piece of laminated paper into his grip, scanning his eyes down the sheet. A collection of test scores in the sixties and fifties range, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst a few grades in the eighties and seventies for small homework and classwork grades. Nahliel cringed.

"I understand your concern for this student, but what does this have to do with me, sir?"

Mr. Nolan folded his hands together.

"Well, you see. You're one of my best students. You excelled especially in the geometry portion of the advanced placement test that you took at the beginning of the year. My proposition, if you are able to tutor this student, and bring his grade point average up to at least a 2.4 by the end of the marking period, you can get the appropriate community service credentials that you need for acceptance into the National Math Honors' Society."

Nahliel raised a dark eyebrow skeptically at the man; his green eyes meeting the man's brown ones.

"And if I don't?"

Mr. Nolan let out an expectant chuckle.

"I was sure you would have asked that. The bottom line, Mr. Tsumabuki, is the creation of your denial letter." The man averted his attention to stuffing the student's document back into the yellow folder, placing it back into his desk drawer and closing it softly.

He continued, "It shouldn't be too hard. This experience is meant to benefit you both. If he doesn't do well in my class, there will be consequences on his part as well. Besides, I think you two might get along swimmingly." His smile was wide and cheesy, slightly hindered by a fat mustache that curled at its tips, one that could only be described as cartoonish.

Nahliel nodded bravely, a million thoughts rushing through his head at a million miles per hour. He wrung his hands together.

"When can I start?"

Mr. Nolan looked at him before speaking.

"Your sessions will be every Monday and Thursday in the school library, until the end of the semester. Any schedule conflicts?" He eyed the teen through foggy spectacles.

Nahliel almost bit his tongue, shaking his head feverishly. He nervously smiled, his eyebrows coming together to form a triangle in the center.

"Good to hear. His name is Liam. Good kid, but not all that motivated." The man stood from his seat.

"But I think you can get through to him. Is this something you can handle, Nahliel?"

He didn't miss a beat.

"Of course, sir. I will not let you down. Have a good day." Slinging his backpack back over his shoulders, Nahliel quickly scurried out of the classroom, not bothering to pick up his feet against the marble constructed floor.

Mr. Nolan sighed, leaning a hand crookedly on one side of his hip. It wasn't until he looked up that he finally took notice of the fly on the wall. He gave the shielded teen a confused look.

"Eyrik, did you want to talk to me about something?"

The cloaked male looked taken aback, but only for a brief moment.

"No."

With less courtesy than Nahiel had, Eyrik then pushed himself out of Mr. Nolan's classroom. This was a regular routine for him. Most days, he would purposely take his time before exiting the class before lunch. The hallways were always too crowded during the first five minutes entering into the one hour block. It's when the students would casually stroll off to their lockers, putting their morning class books away. Or where obnoxious jocks and preps would collect in the middle of the hallway to discuss the idiocy of the day's events. Or where the stoners would meet up to smoke a joint. Bottom line, lunchtime is the time for cliques. The whole bunch of them, to get together. You would think that being a senior in this school, Eyrik would have found someplace among some group of people that he belonged to. But, unfortunately in the eyes of others, that wasn't the case.

Even the newly transferred students were slowly fitting into someone's twisted version of social normality. But Eyrik didn't fit into any stereotypes. He liked himself that way. One may attempt to support his behavior with not fitting in to stand out. But, Eyrik didn't do that either. So if you didn't fit in, and you didn't stand out. Then what did you do? You fit out. Eyrik fit out. He didn't stand out. He didn't fit in. He fit out. Fitting out means taking up space, not apologizing for yourself, and not agreeing with those who seek to label you with stereotypes. If everything in this world were to adopt a label, then that would be Eyrik's with no argument.

The hallway was relatively quiet, only a few lingering teens to show evidence of previous extreme population. Eyrik took in the aroma of smelly gym clothes in the morning. It stunk, but so did a lot of things. The trick was learning how to embrace the good, and the bad. Eyrik trekked down the hall slowly but surely, a few of the lingerers not so discreetly moving out of his way in all costs of engaging in unwanted social contact.

Reaching a push door down the stairs, he continued his path all the way down to his usual lunch venue, the student courtyard.

Time: 10:27 a.m.

Place: Wawanakwa Academy; Athletic Field

"Come on Gyro, pick up the pace!"

"I'm g-going… as fast as I can." A voice heaved behind.

Jordan pushed ahead, his dark arms and legs falling into a synchronized rhythm. He concentrates his brown orbs on the track ahead of him. Jordan was very well aware that his friend had good stamina, but due to the extra weight on his body, he was just a little slow. Jordan turned himself around, a laugh playing upon his lips as he slowed to a more controlled pace, allowing Gyro to catch up with him. The teen placed both of his hands on his knees and bended over to catch his breath.

"You're a cheetah, man," Gyro stifled a laugh. His brown sunglasses shielded his eyes from the sun.

Jordan simply chuckled in response, crossing his arms over his physique.

"Thanks for running with me. I know it wasn't really something you wanted to do, but-"

Gyro put a hand up immediately to stop him. "Don't worry about it. I just wanted to be supportive of my best friend. I know you're really nervous about tryouts next week."

Jordan quickly looked away, a nervous hand going to rub the back of his neck. Gyro paused cautiously as if to be careful not to break a nerve.

"But, you're an amazing player, and you're already in shape . You have absolutely nothing to worry about." He smiled convincingly.

Jordan smiled back, shortly before looking down to his black canvas hi-top sneakers.

"Yeah, maybe we should take a break. We've been out here for, woah!"

Gyro watched as the seventeen year old boy went tumbling down on the track, his face impacting with the gravel. He naturally winced, feeling the pain of his friend, especially when the girl who had ran into him fell over his crushed body.

"My gosh, are you okay?" she frantically questioned. On one side she was embarrassed for being so klutzy, but on the other side she was grateful that he had broken her fall.

Jordan nodded, slowly picking himself off of the ground and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled. His eyes regained their focus on the girl and her cheeks lit up under his gaze. Her onyx eyes immediately succumbed to a fleeting, nervous reaction. She chuckles, looking up to him.

"I'm really sorry about that. I guess I wasn't paying much attention. Thanks for breaking my fall, though" she laughs.

Jordan nodded slowly at her, looking her up and down and taking in her appearance. She definitely had a unique taste in fashion. Certainly different from what he had seen back in the UK.

"It's fine really." Jordan turns back to Gyro who had regained a steady breath from the exercise. He motions to him with the jerk of his head as he began to travel out of the gated track.

Gyro, hesitantly followed behind him after giving an appreciative look to the girl. Seeing that the two teens set their sights on leaving, she perked up, quickly following after them and settling on the left side of Jordan.

"Uh, hey, gone so soon?" she blubbered. "What were you two doing out?"

Jordan looked at her momentarily before providing an answer.

"We were just going out for a run before heading to the cafeteria to grab something to eat."

The girl smiled, adjusting the pink cap on her head. "Oh well, that's cool. Um,"

She stuffs her hands into her blue jeans, a smile still on her face.

"You're Jordan right?"

Jordan halted in his path, resting his hands suspiciously at his side. How did this girl know his name? He had to wonder if he was unknowingly wearing something as obvious as a tag. He nodded slowly, his words lethargic.

"Yes, how did you know?" He mimicked her, shoving his dark hands into his pockets as a reaction to concealment.

She laughed. "You're in my eighth period Gym class. We've never really talked before, but I just always see you around. So, I thought it was about time to say him, don'tcha think?" She carried about a bubbly feel to her. Upon noticing that Jordan was slightly hesitant to respond, she went on.

"My name is Shann, with two n's, by the way."

Jordan smiled.

"Well, hello Shann. It's nice to officially meet you," he said. Shann nodded as Gyro raised an eyebrow at the two, naturally falling behind them in their pace.

Jordan was shocked at how he could have overlooked this girl's presence. She didn't seem to be one to blend in with the crowd. He felt another grin tug at the corners of his mouth.

"This is my friend," he gestured to Gyro who had suddenly penetrated the one-on-one conversation at his mention. His eyes lit up under his sunglasses. He held up a friendly hand, waving it excitedly.

Shann grinned, going to shake his hand. Gyro's head bobbled dramatically from her force. He had to refocus himself.

"Wow, you're strong. Uh, my name is Gyro," he says.

"Thanks," Shann placed two firm hands on her hips, holding her head up high to separate it from the fabric of her checkered neck scarf.

"Nice to meet you Gyro. Nice name. It's spontaneously unique," she winked. Gyro nodded while feeling his cheeks heat up unexpectedly, but still kept his charisma about him. She then turned back to Jordan who had gotten a decent distance on the two. She jogged up closer to him, trailing behind his right shoulder.

"Hey, would you mind if I eat lunch with you guys? I don't have that many friends here yet." She scolder herself for feeling so embarrassed. She was usually a more go with the flow kind of girl as opposed to a nervous and jittery one, but she couldn't help but second guess the extent of her welcome.

Jordan brought his hands out of his pocket, instead, opting them together in front of him.

"Of course, Shann. Gyro and I are new here too. So, we could use some companionship."

Shann exhaled a breath of relief before grinning, beginning to chat Jordan up into another conversation.

Gyro remained a decent amount of distance behind, eyeing the two as they laughed and talked about the miscellaneous, occasionally dragging his feet against the hard concrete as they entered the parking lot back into the school.

Time: 10:36 a.m.

Place: Wawanakwa Academy; Student Courtyard

The artist draws connections. He ties the invisible threads between things. He dives into history, be it the history of mankind, the geological history of the Earth or the beginning and end of the manifest cosmos. Eyrik, accordingly, was an artist. Since a child, he's always been one. Not in the literal sense of producing paintings or drawings as a profession or hobby. Eyrik is an artist in his own sense. He watches life go by, from the best possible view available in any given situation. A bird's eye view.

So as Eyrik climbed his way to the top of one of his more preferred trees in the courtyard, he felt tall amongst the tiny ants below him. A few unsuspecting freshman gave him dirty looks, not yet used to his daily behaviors. Eyrik seemed unfazed, pulling his lunch from a brown paper bag and casting his gaze on a separation of cliques. The proclaimed 'nerd' table, played around with a robotics set. The 'goths and emos' debated over eccentric music selections and went into talks about an open-mic night. The 'preps' giggled over trivial matters. Eyrik was in the heart of it all.

The conversation topics of each group rarely deviated from a common ground. It was like watching a stereotypical 80's movie scene. Somehow, Wawanakwa Academy refused to conform to modern day societal forms, and still remained segregated through a hierarchy system. One would have considered a significant teenage advancement from then. But, apparently not. They stuck to the status quo.

Eyrik relaxed under the shade of the leafy tree. His head collided harshly against the tree bark, causing him to throw his cloak down from under his head and rub the spot of pain. He winced, shaking his head and placing his hood back over his purple dyed hair. After finishing a sandwich, he focused his attention on a conversation happening below.

"And the worst part is, if he doesn't achieve a 2.4 GPA by the end of the marking period, there goes my college acceptance letter."

Nahliel who had been the source of stress sighed, relaxing his muscles into the table. The two other teens sitting across from him, namely Matt and Rickie, looked onwards skeptically at the boy. They almost regret when he had come up to their table and they had questioned him about the nature of his glumness. Matt, finishing his bag of organic chips, nodded sympathetically to Nahliel.

"I understand. Your happiness shouldn't be measured by the success of others. But, then again, this is the way it is. That argument, although invalid, might not go too far in this situation," he commented.

Rickie nodded in agreement. He had currently been occupied in the final touches of a sketch he planned on painting later, but cast his head back up to the boy once he had opened up the conversation to other's opinions.

"Plus, you shouldn't be so on edge about it. There's a lot of stress out there, and to handle it, you just need to believe in yourself."

Nahliel looked up to the duo, unconvinced.

A smirk easily creeped up onto Matt's face. He folded his hands together, studiously in front of him.

"Find joy in the things that you like doing the most. For example, I like to write. Writing means sharing. It's part of the human condition to want to share things- thoughts, ideas, opinions. It relieves me from everyday anxieties. What do you like to do Nahliel?" Matt questioned.

Eyrik couldn't help but lean in closer at their words. They were getting quieter and quieter. He had to strain his ears in order to properly hear. From their previous conversation, he felt an era of urgency around Nahliel. Like two stone walls were closing in one each other, and the green eyed teen was stuck in the middle.

Nahliel thought for a moment. What did he like to do? He brought his head up to the two who were awaiting an answer.

"I- I like to cook, and sing, and practice kung fu. Meet new people, I suppose..." His hand went to rub his neck.

Rickie smiled, "Then take joy in what pleases you. It's as simple as that."

Something gave Eyrik the impression that it wouldn't be that simple. At least not for him.

Nahliel smiled back, crookedly. "I would, believe me when I say that."

There was an unsettling pause between the two.

"But..." Rickie trailed.

"But, there's no time for that. My grandfather has standards. He expects me to excel. How am I going to excel if I'm wasting my time on- Shann!" The end of the sentence came randomly, but was quickly explained when he saw the girl walking towards him from behind Rickie and Matt's heads, a huge smile on her face. She practically skipped over to the table.

"Shann? You're wasting your time on Shann?" Matt raised a curious eyebrow which elicited a laugh from Nahliel.

His outburst even caused Eyrik to do a double take from where he was sitting.

"No, my apologies about that. I just saw my friend from behind you."

The two other teens whipped their heads around to meet the peculiarly dressed girl. As she reached the table, she gave a friendly wave to all of its occupants. Weirdly enough, even the small group of emotional boys seated at the end of the table, far from the group. Nahliel grinned charmingly.

"Rickie, Matt, this is my friend Shann. Shann, Rickie and Matt." He gestured appropriately to each person.

"Hey guys. Hey Nahliel." She playfully ruffled his spiked hair.

"What've you been doing all of lunch? I thought we agreed to meet up." As the two got into conversation, Rickie and Matt couldn't help but feel like the unnecessary third and fourth training wheels on an adult bike.

Shann blushed in embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry about that, guy. I went out for a run at the start of lunch, and I ran into some cool dudes. I was in the cafeteria eating with them." She looked at him with worry in her eyes.

"Are you mad?"

There was a pause.

Nahliel grinned, shaking his head quickly.

"No, no it's fine. Hey, are we still on for after-school?"

Shann's smile swiftly regenerated, just for it to be broken down again. She shuddered with guilt.

"I'm sorry Nahliel. I really am. I promised I'd hang out with ma new friends today."

She covered her face with her hands.

"How 'bout a rain check? The weekend is no good. Hm, how about Monday after-school?"

She looked to him hopefully.

Eyrik's eyes darted between the two in their conversation, sensing the disappointment in Nahliel's withering words.

"Oh, no. Sorry, that's no good. I have to tutor on Monday."

Shann nodded understandingly.

"Okay, uh, no problem. We'll find some other time." She didn't wait for his response.

"Hey, I have to run. But, I'll text ya later. It was nice meeting you guys." After waving to the three, she runs off back into the school.

Nahliel watches her go, only turning his attention back to Rickie and Matt when he can't see her anymore.

They exchange a knowing look.

"Uh, we have to run too Nahliel. But, this was fun. We should do it again some time." Matt started.

Nahliel instinctively went to shake their hands. "As to you, gentlemen."

The two smiled awkwardly, before heading off in the same direction that Shann had traveled, leaving Nahliel alone to wallow in his thoughts.

Eyrik sighed, almost empathetically as he watched him alone, his head cast down into the ground. He had almost considered going down to say something, until a shrill voice caught his attention on the opposite side of the courtyard. Eyrik shifted his body around, now focusing on two quarrelers. The first one, a female who he had assumed was the source of the shrill disturbance, had her pale arms crossed sternly over each other. Her hetero colored eyes, narrowed harshly at the taller boy in front of her who stood with just as much passion.

"Scar, you're being unreasonable!"

The boy revealed to be Scar, pinched the bridge of his nose, refusing to meet eyes with her. He took a deep breath, attempting to keep his temper under control.

Eyrik smirked. A classic lovers quarrel? This is something he could sink his teeth into.

"And you're being a bit controlling," he seethed.

"Controlling?"

She reacted as if Scar had just told her the worst news of her life.

"Well, yeah. Look Albina, I don't mean this in the wrong way. It's just, don't you think you're looking at worst case scenario here. Why would you even consider-"

She shakes her head at him before he could finish, already knowing what he was going to say. That was certainly a perk of being best friends.

"Because she's a manipulative bitch, that's why," she yelled. She was drawing attention to herself.

Careful not to say the wrong thing, Scar sighed, lowering his voice with frustration still evident.

"Can we talk about this at another time, Albina?" he muttered.

"W-Well," her cheeks lit up under the gaze of many lingering eyes. She felt like snapping at them like a bulldog on a chain, but decided she would spare her friend the trouble, at least for today. The jealous are troublesome to others, but a torment to themselves. "Okay, but this is far from over."

She whipped her head around harshly, strutting away in all dramatics.

Scar groaned, grasping his head into his hands. He easily found shade under Eyrik's tree, flinging himself into the dirt. He had to keep his cool. Eyrik tilted his head to the side, kicking his dangling legs childishly above Scar.

Scar threw his head up to the sky, wrapping his arms around himself and groaning. The day had not been treating him too well. It was only a few seconds until he noticed the silhouette of Eyrik's blue and black shoes. Scar was all too familiar with him. The school year prior, he had been in his art class before switching out.

Eyrik felt embarrassed. No one had really bothered to look up. And when they did, he felt trapped.

Scar smiled, waving up to him. He hesitated before waving back. Eyrik thought he would try to connect with him, maybe by climbing up to see eye to eye. Although he watched, he never enjoyed seeing trouble. He sensed that Scar was under a lot of stress. Eyrik bit his lip, looking fleetingly to the side. Maybe he should say something. But then again, maybe not. He was respecting of his space, the least he could do is return the favor. The two sat there in silence, acknowledging each other's presence, but stoic in expression. That's one thing they had in common.

Time: 2:32 p.m.

Place: Wawanakwa Academy; North Wing

Grace was nervous. No. Nervous didn't begin to describe her pain. She had been in her final period Computer Science class when her teacher had gotten the page that Ms. Gates wanted to see her after class. That was when the panic set in. She wrung her hands together, standing at the forefront of the battlefield. Her feet positioned in place outside of her teacher's classroom. Her fist was up, ready to knock. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her thoughts immediately scavenged to worst case scenario. She was in trouble. That had to be it. Maybe she had over stepped her five minute limit when she had asked to go to the bathroom that day. But, she had finished her work early. She didn't think it would have been a problem. Plus, she was so sure her bathroom trip had only been three and a quarter of a minute. The closest bathroom was three hallways away after all. Or what if...

A layer of sweat started to form around her neck. Maybe she should just turn back. The next day she would tell her, her teacher forgot to pass on the message. Just as Grace was about to turn on her heels, she heard the door being thrown open in front of her, bringing her back into reality. A frustrated student stormed out, holding a piece of slightly crumpled paper in his hand. In big red marker, a cartoonish 'F'. Grace forced down a gulp.

Ms. Gates peeked through the open door, grinning when she saw Grace standing there with a deer in headlights expression on her face.

"Grace, please come in," she motioned.

There was no turning back now. Grace nodded, making her way into the classroom where a single chair sat in front of the teacher's desk. She plopped down into the seat, staring intently at the older woman.

"Grace-"

"Whatever I did wrong please please don't penalize me for it I'm sorry I'm so sorry I won't ever do it again don't tell my parents I can't-" she rambled quickly in one breath.

It was only when Ms. Gates started laughing that she finally stopped. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she watched the woman, clutching her stomach from whatever appeared to humor her about the situation.

"M- Ms. Gates?" she muttered.

The lady shook her head, trying hard to refocus.

"Grace, you're not in trouble," she laughed.

The teen had to blink twice.

"Really?"

The black haired woman nodded, fixing her red rimmed glasses upon her face.

"You're an excellent student. One of the best students I've ever had in fact." She stacks the short collection of papers in front of her.

"What can I say, Grace? You've been getting straight As in this class. You understand the material before anyone else does. You're a natural at math. Numbers just come to you easily."

Grace grinned at her, her dark blue eyes shimmering. She was never one to be too prideful in situations, but she would be lying if she said the woman's words weren't inflating her miniature ego.

"Thank you, 'mam."

She nodded.

"This is exactly why I'm reaching out to you about joining the Math Team. I saw your name on the interested list from the activity's fair last month. Do you happen to still be interested?"

Grace nodded, remembering when a rather awkward boy had approached her and Sophia, asking them if they were interested in joining the Math Team. She didn't think they would follow up on the scoping out of the signatures. But she hadn't put much thought to it.

"Yes, 'mam. I am still interested." She suddenly felt insecure as she went to play with a strand of her tied up hair.

Ms. Gates grinned. "That's good to hear, Grace. We don't usually open up the club to freshman, but I just had to make an exception for you," she joked.

Grace stood from her seat as Ms. Gates did, simultaneously. The lady held her hand out openly to her, waiting for her to shake it. As soon as she accepted her invitation, she announced, "Welcome to the Math League, Grace. We hope to see you at our first meeting on Monday. Hope to see you there."

Grace gave her an awkward smile shortly before shuffling out of the classroom. It hadn't been the most fitting response, but she felt like she was a ready batch of cookies, being alleviated from the scorching heat of an oven set on 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Grace radiated inwardly, the feeling of relief finally settling over her. She drooped her shoulders comfortably and rushed off towards the busses. She couldn't wait to tell Sophia.

Time: 3:12 p.m.

Place: the Banks Residence

"Eyrik, sweety, how was school?" he heard his grandmother utter.

The suction-like sound of the door opening, along with jingling silver keys was enough to call her into their living room. A kind old lady, really.

Eyrik didn't dare look at her, instead stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cloak. He held his head down, walking slowly up to his room and collapsing on his bed. Eyrik sighed, his dark eyes trailing over to his full backpack. He rolled his eyes before shutting them tight. The harsh fading summer heat getting to him, he threw off his cloak, revealing a red T-shirt and blue jeans. He runs his fingers easily through his purple locks. Even as Autumn was well on its way, the bipolar weather seemed to say otherwise.

This English homework was going to be a killer, he thought. Eyrik sunk down into the sheets. He rolls over into the pillow and groans. His grandfather would be home soon to make dinner, so that was something to look forward to. He reached into his book-bag, reaching for his history assignment. Something easy to start off. He grabbed his textbook from off of his desk, turning to Chapter 4.

About halfway through his notes, Eyrik felt weight weigh itself down onto his eyelids, forcing sleep upon him. He shut them lightly, just to throw them open as quickly as he dropped them. He needed a nice, refreshing glass of water. Eyrik jogged down the stairs leading to his kitchen where his grandmother sat. Her dark eyes resembled his, boring into the soul of whoever they had cast their sights on. He went into his fridge, childishly decorated in colorful alphabet magnets.

The fridge light lit up, causing a reflection in the water jug located on the top shelf. Eyrik took it out, shortly before finding a clean glass from the cabinet. Upon seeing his reflection in the material, he grimaced from the unusual sight of seeing himself without his cloak. It had concealed him from the world. It was his 'mask'. His grandmother followed him with her eyes. She too, sipping on a glass of water to choke down a pill. Eyrik didn't like this feeling of vulnerability, especially as a pair of eyes cast attention on him. He sipped slowly on the glass of water, leaning against the marble countertop.

The two occupants of the house engaged in a mini stare off. Although, no words were exchanged, they comforted each other in their silence. An unspoken affection. But as the woman parted her lips to speak, Eyrik felt a transitory telling to flee the scene. He marched back upstairs, only pausing momentarily to consider going back to her. He didn't know what he would say or do. But maybe he could stay there a little longer, just to be. Eyrik quickly shook the thought out of his head, going back into his room to continue his homework. He shut the lights off, only allowing a dimmed lamp on his night stand that had deteriorated in quality over time to shine over him. Just a few more pages and he could welcome the numbness back into his life. So he read, and read until he didn't have to read anymore. After a quick shower, he rested back onto his bed, sinking in his new mattress. Eyrik shut his eyes tight. It wasn't long until he had fallen into a deep sleep, preparing him for the next resulting day.

Hey gang! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter. I just have a few things I want to say. I appreciate all of the support that I have been getting regarding the story. Thank you to everyone who has been encouraging me thus far. It's a huge help. But, I want to address the issue of reviewing. It's sad to say that not a lot of people have been reviewing the story as of lately. This worries me because without your feedback, how am I supposed to know whether you have been reading/enjoying the story? Just a simple, one sentence review will make me happy. I hope that's not too much to ask. The more you review, the more motivated I am to write. I'll leave it at that for now. Sorry if this sounded too harsh, I just wanted to express my concern. Thank you for reading. Until next time!