"Did you hear?"

It was around half past six in the morning, I was dressed and literally running around my room, hands trying to unbraid my hair. Multitasking was something I'd gotten used to throughout years of sharing a bathroom with Jackson but multitasking with Sidney screaming on FaceTime was a whole different experience, "Did I hear what?"

I heard rattling before her voice sounded distant, indicating that she'd put her phone down, "Oh that a certain porcelain hunk of pride is packing as we speak."

Running to pack my bag before I had no time, I nearly fell, shoving my Biology book in the tight space, "What?"

And then her voice got louder as my nail got stuck in the braid me trying to detach my hand, I wondered how Sid did her hair every morning and still managed to make it to her 5am volleyball practice every Friday, "Jan's visiting! He convinced his aunt to let him stay for Thanksgiving break!"

I tried to keep my voice down as I yelled back, "Are you fucking serious? How'd you even find out?"

"Well, Kat heard from Rodney who was told by Jan."

"Rodney? They're still speaking?"

Rodney was Jan's cousin who used to visit him a lot, enough to basically fall in love with Kat.

Last time, our dearest Katalina had seen him, she'd punched him in the face and left him outside on New Years with a hand to his face and a broken heart. Rodney, after going numb o his feelings and eating ice cream with me and Sid, decided to get a girlfriend and things with him and the spicy little Latin girl had been shady ever since.

"Apparently, he called and apologized for trying to kiss her last year."

I heard her shrugging and then fumbling with a clinking noise that could only be informed as a belt.

And then in the distance is heard, "fuck this, where's my sweats?" And then cursing in what I could only assume was Punjabi.

"Having trouble?"

I'd picked up my phone in the time it took her to shuffle over in just a bra as she pulled her pants up. Flicking me off, she ran a hand through her waves, "I'll see you at school, babe. I'm barely dressed-"

"I'd rather not hear about your nakedness... Or see it, thank you."

And she laughed before disconnecting the call.

I'd heard clinking and grunting entering my room before turning around to be met with the slight of Jacky trying to support his body on crutches. I inaudibly sighed, guilt resurfacing, "What's got you all hype?"

"I thought you were mad at me."

I watched as my fully dressed brother, with his bag slung on his back, hobbled through my room towards me. He was struggling to get used to the crutches, a wince echoing through the room when he'd accidentally stepped on his bad foot, "I am but you talk loud enough to rise the dead."

And I couldn't hold it in, "January is coming back!"

His eyes were wide, his mouth dropped open, and his body momentarily stopped moving, "For good?"

Jan was his best friend and he'd been pissed off when he'd left, that eventually morphing into sadness. He didn't get that this wasn't Jan's choice and we couldn't talk him out of it.

"Well, no but he'll be here for Thanksgiving Break."

And rolling his eyes, he shifted his fingers before trying to make his way to the door, "that's not the same."

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

Psychology was a bitch.

Like about as bitchy as an ex-girlfriend you dumped on prom night. And psychology wasn't even one of my main classes, it was an elective towards a scholarship I'd been pining after for a while now. I couldn't afford to fail Psychology or I could kiss any chance at a good school, goodbye.

That's why I was near to tears when I'd received my grade back from the test we'd had and was informed of my low grade.

"Emerson, Oliver, Jeremy," Mrs. Cadigan had called me out at the end of class on Wednesday as I gripped the paper tight in my hands, the big F sprawled on the paper above a shitload of corrections that I hadn't had the heart to read. My heart sank as I looked through the answers I'd missed, questions I thought I'd passed having red marks beside them, "see me after class."

I wanted to shout out in protest at the words, Luca trying to pat my shoulder awkwardly to comfort me. Looking over, I noticed the 84% written on his paper and scowled.

He was new to the fucking country and he was receiving better grades than me.

As the bell rang, I watched as Luca gave me a wary glance, exiting the room after Sidney. Luca blushed, looking down and avoiding any conversation with Sidney as he exited the classroom.

And then he dropped his books, Sid turning around at the commotion and shaking her head, her eyes meeting his with a heist end smile. I watched as she knelt down and picked up half of his books for him, holding out her hand for him to grab.

But he pushed himself up causing her smile to deflate as he muttered a 'thank you', not meeting her eye before he hastily made his way out of the classroom. And I watched as my best friend sighed sadly following after him before thinking better of it and turning the opposite way.

"So," Mrs. Cadigan clasped her hands together, gaining the attention of the room, she sat down on the top of her desk and looked towards the dark haired boy seated beside me, she had us all move to chairs right in the front, "Oliver, your grades have been slacking lately. What's wrong?"

I watched him shrug, his voice having me strain to hear as he muttered out an, "I'm fine." I watched his lips mouth the words, his lip ring no longer there. I'd realized that he only wore it outside of school, rather that be because of the fact that he didn't want to be outcasted more or because he just didn't feel like it.

Mrs. Cadigan sighed at his response, her gaze turning to me as I sat up a little more in my seat. I respected her as a teacher, she never gave me a reason not to, "Emerson?"

I told her the truth, eyebrows furrowed, "I really don't even know."

And then Jeremy cleared his throat, his hand coming up to fix his short sleeve mathletes shirt, "I'm late for band." He stated, eyebrows raised as he waited for the reason he was there. As much as it pained me to say, he was one of the smartest kids in our grade.

But, Jeremy Rosen was a nuisance. Ya know that kid who thinks he's a child genius? Well, Jeremy eats that kid for breakfast and gets higher marks than him.

"And I understand that, I'll write you a note, just sit down and listen for a minute," Mrs. Cadigan tried her best not to sound harsh, trying jot to obviously show her distaste for the blond boy in front of her. Everyone hated the guy, "alright, now that I have your attention... Jeremy, you're my best student and according to your counselor, you need a few more extra-curriculars on your record. So I'm proposing a study group. You tutor both Oliver and Emerson for the next semester and we can count that as an extra-curricular."

And that was when Oliver's head shot up, eyes widening, and I got a glimpse of a petrified boy and not a psychopathic loner, "Mrs. Cadigan, I get that I didn't exactly pass my test but-"

She shook her head, effectively cutting him off. Sighing sadly, she gave him disheartening news, "Oliver... you had the lowest grade."

I heard Jeremy groan before muttering under his breath, the teacher not hearing his little snort, "What a shocker."

I don't know why but I was the one shooting Jeremy a glare at that. Oliver remained indifferent, lips pulled straight into a little grimace. We all digested the information and then Jeremy went pale.

And he cried out in the silence, a sound of protest, "There has to be some other student that can tutor him!"

The teacher cleared her throat, her eyes wavering from his before she glanced at the ceiling, "Well, I asked Jovie Nichols but she disagreed and... ran away, you're the only other option."

And in a clipped tone, Jeremy glanced over at Oliver before rolling his eyes, "Fine."

"Great, you'll meet on Fridays, that okay?"

I heard Oliver shift uncomfortably before he spoke, "I can't, not on Fridays."

"What? Do you have some psycho club on those days? Where you compare your scars and steal from old grannies-"

"Enough." My outburst had shocked not only the teacher but Oliver as well as he glanced over at me curiously. I didn't like it when people degraded him, he was still a person and deserved respect as such, "Can we change it to Thursdays? Is that okay?"

Jeremy groaned as if what if I'd said was stupid, he gave me a condescending look, "Chess Club."

Mrs. Cadigan scrunched her nose, "Wednesday?"

Oliver cleared his throat, speaking a but louder than before, his eyes meeting hers s he showed her respect. He seemed to have a high amount of curtesy when it came to people older than him, women especially, "Daily meeting with my parol officer."

And no one raised a question at that.

"We'll figure it out, Mes. C, okay?"

"And I trust that, Emerson."

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

The halls were almost empty, only people for after school activities such as sports still loitering around. I'd been waiting for Jackson so one of his football buddies could give us a ride home. Apparently, even though he was injured, Coach still made him watch practice, a fact that killed Jackson.

And although my brother wasn't talking to me, he'd have to at least listen to me apologize in his face afterwards as we were encased in a sweaty tin-can with meatheads.

I'd heard his voice before I'd seen Oliver, it still being only his second week since returning. "Hey, do you uh need a ride?"

He seemed to be reminiscing beside the trophy case, gaze fixed on the team picture they'd taken before he'd gained proof behind his already impending reputation. He had a half smile, his eyes concentrating on his name in the list of football players.

I blinked but hadn't said a word until he'd turned around, my eyes focusing in on his, the slight nostalgic look infused on his face.

Even then, I was unable to form a coherent sentence.

Oliver's smile dropped as he'd realized how confused I'd looked. Shrugging his jacket closer to himself, he headed for the door before looking back to see if I was following, "Is it really that hard to believe that I'm being nice to you?"

Taking a hesitant step, I watched as he tilted his head to the side like a wounded puppy, "Kinda."

And then his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched a little and I realized how insensitive I'd sounded, "Well, I thought that you wanted to be... friends, right? Friends are nice to each other. Do you need a ride?"

A ride on what?

And I felt the need to put him out f the misery of asking, my head slowly nodding, "Yeah, if it's not any trouble... I mean, I can wait for my brother to catch a ride with the football team if it's out of your way."

Pushing out the doors, I followed as the cold hit me. He was holding his arms close to his body as he unlocked a red rusted Jeep, "Seriously, Emerson, it's fine."

"Oliver..."

He rolled his eyes, licking his slightly chapped lips, "I'm really not in the mood for protest so if you could kindly get into my car so I can start it and turn the heat on before I get frostbite, it would be heavily appreciated."

And I think it was the urgency in his voice but I'd opened the passenger door, sliding in on the slashed seat.

The car's interior wasn't that bad, only a few cigarette buds lying around and some cuts on the seats.

And when Oliver had gotten in, starting the ignition and flexing his fingers around the steering wheel, you could tell it was his prized possession.

He was pulling out of the parking lot when I'd spoken, "Thank you."

He shook his head, lips upturned in a slight smile as he turned up the heat, lips puckered. The light was making his eyes seem brighter and his hair shine. I almost missed the slight chuckle he let out, "You're something else, Emerson Riley."

I found myself staring at his lips and the way they curved to let out the familiar words. Oliver's profile was just too beautiful to take in, it made you want to memorize every line and concave of his perfect cheek-bones and remember every light freckle that you could only see if you were at an extremely close proximity and the light was hitting him the right way.

And then I was replying, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

Oliver didn't answer, he seemed to be thinking, and then his gaze turned towards me for a split second, "I'm starting to question that myself."