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***

"you don't wanna be high like me; never really knowing why like me."

***

The class is already pretty full by the time I get there, which is surprising because as far as I know, half of these people would do anything to be late to a Physics class. It's the first day after a break, I tell myself. Maybe they want to put on a good behaviour before causing amess later on. Or maybe they've already caused the mess and is paying for it right now. I feel like I'm back in primary school playing detective. The only difference is I'm not having any fun now.

     I sit at my usual spot on the side. For a while, I wait for Xander. And then the second bell rings, dictating the start of a lesson, and he's still nowhere in sight. Even after pages and pages of textbook content, and I claw my eyes out trying to finish the damn multiple-choice questions, Xander doesn't show up. I'd given up by mid class—on the worksheet and on Xander. This sounds like him to do whatever the hell he pleases. It also sounds like him to ditch the class he dreads the most. So, why am I even surprised? I should be angry. I should be pissed. Perhaps I am, but I just don't know how to show it. It's not Xander's fault to skip the lesson. I never mentioned about wanting to talk in the first place. I suppose, there's a part of me that hoped he would be here simply because we're friends.

     The bell rings before I know it. I've been drowning myself in trying to finish the work without saying a word to anyone or looking at any other directions the whole time that time moves by just a tad quicker. Sighing, I look at the questions and how I barely made it through the first couple pages. More homework for me! I say to myself while putting my books in my bag. The voice is my head attempts to say it enthusiastically and failed. Nope, I shake my head, throwing my bag over my shoulder and walking out of the class.

     "Ann!" a voice calls out as I turn the corner to go to my locker. I look behind me and search in between the sea of students going from one direction to the other. Xander.

     I keep walking. The sound of his footsteps become louder, but I shift my focus. He beats me to my locker. I give him a look.

     "Are you walking home today?" he asks, leaning against the metal door and trying to play it cool. He knows I'm pissed. And I know I have every right to be.

     "None of your business."

     "Oh, come on! Is this about me ditching you in Physics?"

     I don't say a word. He moves away from my locker and I insert my combination, opening the door and opening my bag to take out some books.

     "That was uncool, I know," he says. No apology, because Xander doesn't apologize. "Let me drive you home."

     "Why?" I ask, closing my locker a little too roughly that even I'm surprised. He doesn't jump, though; he's still there, calm as ever. You'd think he's got everything he's ever wanted just by looking at him.

     He doesn't answer. Instead he says, "Meet me out front after this last class," before walking away. Calm and collected. Not a care in the world. That's the Xander that everyone knows.

     I spend the next hour and forty-five minutes wondering what the hell he's up to.

***

I used to walk to school with Dylan and West every morning. It was always nice. Always surprising. Never boring. Most days, Dylan would bring his skateboard—like today—and ride it while the rest of us gets out of breath trying to keep up with him. And he'd go fast on purpose, too. When we're lucky, he'd fall and end up carrying it instead. It sounds like West and I were horrible to Dylan, but that's just how we were. Not a dull moment, ever. Every morning felt like a story. Then, when West got his driver's license at the start of this year, we'd switch every once in a while, between walking and him driving us. It was a short drive, but enough to fit in a few songs to sing out loud to. Dylan still preferred using his skateboard, though. It meant he could always be ahead of us. I think in secret, he just liked the attention and smiles from strangers. That's Dylan being Dylan.

     Xander got his license the same time West did, too, but uses it less. He lives a little away from the rest of us, so it's understandable. He'd walk to school, or like Dylan, skateboard through the streets. When he does drive, we'd go home with him and stop by the local ice cream shop on the nearby neighbourhood. The best vanilla ice cream, I swear! And everyone in the group can agree with me on this. Sometimes, it's the burger place downtown. A little far, but worth it. Ocean's stricter. With two brothers, her Mum drives her to and from school. Every once in a while, she'd go home with one of us, though. This year she signed up for a lot of clubs and activities. I'm pretty sure she just wanted a reason to hang out with us more. We'd always wait for her. She hasn't missed an ice cream trip at all.

     We have a routine. Or we had one.

     My phone buzzes and I slide the lock to see Xander's name on the screen.

     XANDER: I'm in front. The door nearest to your locker.

     Then after a second, another buzz.

     XANDER: Where are youuu

     I walk there directly from my last class, pushing the door open to see Xander's silver Wrangler right there where he promised. The sun is so bright my vision becomes blurry, so I put a hand over my eyes to shield it as I walk to the passenger's side.

     "Calm down," I tell him while getting in. "The class just ended. How'd you get here so quick?"

     "Oh, I skipped."

     "The whole day?!"

     "No!" he objects, starting to drive. "Just the last period."

     "Why?"

     He shrugs. I let it go, even though the curiosity is killing me. We let the air hang for a bit.

     "So," I say while adjusting my seatbelt. I realise that he had turned the car the opposite direction to our houses a while ago and into the main road instead. I can't hold the curiosity anymore. "Where are we going?"

     He moves an arm forward to turn down the volume of the radio and gives me a smirk. "Why? Afraid that I might kidnap you or something?"

     "Ha ha."

     "I thought we could get burgers."

     "Ice cream lost?"

     "A tough decision," he plays along. "Unfortunately, yes. I'm starving."

     "When are you not?"

     "When are you not?" he mimics me and I roll my eyes. I miss this. "Anyway, I've been craving chips like crazy."

     I laugh. "Xand, you sound like me on my period!"

     "I think I'm finally getting it now. I won't bother you next time you have a craving."

     "Is that a promise?"

     "No," he shakes his head almost automatically. "Not a promise, no. That's too strong. Tone it down a little, maybe? Let's fist bump on it."

     "What?"

     "People do pinky promises, don't they? This," he lifts his fist and directed it to my direction, "is more chill."

     "Whatever," I say, not being able to hold a smile. I hold my fist toward his and we bump on it. "What the hell are we even doing?"

     "I don't know but I miss this."

     My smile drops just a bit. I'm taken back by his words, but I don't show it. The rest of the car ride, I don't say anything, just staring at the cars in front of us—the ones with their music so loud that it can be heard from all the way here, the ones with their windows open and smoke coming out from their cigarettes, the ones in between.

     Xander keeps a steady smile while driving, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to move to the rhythm of whatever is playing on the radio. It's like that afternoon in West's house, the two of us looking over the photos without saying a word. Yet, everything felt right. This feels similar, but less, somehow. There's something different about Xander—something about his smile that isn't quiet reaching his eyes.

     My curiosity remains.

***

"Look," I argue, yelling over the music. "Potato wedges are great, sure. But, nothing beats the traditional, simple, perfect chips!"

     "You mean fries," he points out. "It's an American-based diner, so we should go by their menu. Anyway, no way."

     "Yes way!"

     "Not a chance!" he fights back, looking at me as if I'd just insulted his great-great grandmother. He grabs a wedge and shakes it in front of my face. "Look at this beauty!"

     I put my hands up in sacrifice. "Xander, can I please eat now?"

     "You started this!"

     I roll my eyes, starting to eat my burger. After a while. he finally stops, still muttering a few words about his potato every once in a while. I give him a look of disbelief and he shrugs. Debates with Xander is never something that goes well. Eventually, him and his stubbornness wins. Every. Single. Time.

     The burger place was more crowded than usual, so when we couldn't find a parking spot, we realised our best shot was by getting in the drive-through lane and eating it someplace else. Xander (again, with his stubbornness) complained at first, but then he thought things through and finally agreed. After ordering, we drove off to a nearby park. Then, realising the wind outside is unforgiving, we decide to stay in the car.

     There's nobody at the park. Understandable. The weather is ugly, for sure. I'm pretty sure our voices debating on the chips, I mean fries, are loud enough to be heard from outside, though.

     This is it. He's in a good mood. I take my chance.

     "Xander?"

     "Hmm?" he raises his brows. "Okay, if this is still about the fries, Ann, I swear to—"

     I laugh. "No! It's not that."

     "Alright."

     "That morning," I pause, trying to find the right words. "What happened?"

     He knows exactly what I'm talking about. I didn't even need to ask the question—the first two words were enough. I think he knew even before all this.

     I lean back on my seat, afraid that I might have said the wrong thing, or put the words together badly. But, there's no other way. Or if there is, it's always going to come out as uncomfortable. In the end, he snapped back then. I want to know why.

     "I never meant to say those things," he starts to say, eyes staring right ahead. "It was just like—like everything was happening so fast and I got scared, I guess."

     Scared? Xander never gets scared. He's the toughest out of all of us. The thoughts are running in my head, but I hold them.

     "I'm sorry," he finally says. For the first time ever, I'm hearing those words from him. And for the first time ever, I know he means it.

     I look down and fiddle with the seatbelt. "I know you are."

     It's quiet now. The kind that feels forced. Just a few minutes ago, we were having a debate about our foods. Just a few minutes ago, we were laughing.

     "So what is it?" I ask him. He looks at me. "What's bothering you?"

     "Nothing."

     "Xander."

     "It's nothing. Let's just drop it."

     "No way! Why'd you say those things to Dylan?"

     "I don't know." His voice is low now, like that morning right before the fight.

     "Come on, Xander. Don't give me that crap!"

     I turn the radio off. He stays silent.

     "Please," I say, desperation in my voice. "Just give me a chance to understand."

     "It's—" he begins, sinking back into his seat and closing his eyes ever so tightly together. His fist curled into a ball and I think about our little fist-bump earlier. There's nothing he wants more than to escape from this conversation. But he can't. And I'm not going to let him.

     "Dammit!" he curses, a hand slapping the edge of the steering wheel. I keep myself steady. "The words on that letter and what it turned into?"

     I nod.

     "It really did happen," he finally lets out. "I was there."

***

(A/N)

Hello! I hope you're liking the updates so far! Apologies for publishing this one a day late--some chapters take longer than others to finalise. That being said, this one ended up being longer than the original and a lot of scene changes/dialogue updates. Xander's one of my fave characters, so it's always fun to write scenes with him in it! 

Let me know what you think! :)