"Hey, Gemma!" Nathan yells from behind me, trying to catch up with me.

It didn't take long for me to finish my practice test. The test and answer key are shoved somewhere in my backpack. I couldn't stand being in that classroom anymore.

I slow my pace and stop when I reach the double doors to the parking lot.

"Can I take you home?" he asks, adjusting his backpack strap.

"Sure," is all I say.

We walk out in silence. His truck isn't too far out. Just a few rows, where he normally parks. The sun is shining and there's not a single cloud in sight. I climb into his truck and slam the door.

"So, how do you think you did?" Nathan asks.

"I think I did okay. I wasn't sure about a few questions, but I'm sure I was just overthinking them."

Nathan nods and starts the engine.

"You got to school pretty late."

"Yeah...I had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction. But everything's fine now."

"Well, that's good."

Nathan continues to drive in silence. It's deafening. I look out the window at the passing cars and trees. Birds fly through the sky.

"Gee," Nathan says, followed by a long deep breath. "There's something going on with you. I don't know what it is...and you don't have to tell me. But—" He turns on his left blinker and waits for cars to pass. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "I know. There's just a lot going on in my mind." I look at him. "I trust you, Nathan. Okay? But I just need to process some things."

He nods once then turns left. "Okay."

I feel really bad about lying to him. And I know I should just tell him. But once I do, things will never be the same again. And I fear that more than anything. Once you tell someone you're dying, they start to look at you a certain way. And I don't want Nathan to do that. I'm just hoping that we find a cure. That I can beat this thing. But that's ambitious...

It takes me a second to notice we're parked in his driveway. Nathan kills the engine and pulls the keys out of the ignition.

"So, we have a game tomorrow," he says.

"Oh, yeah. First game of the season, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He nods. "You know, there's this seating area where friends and girlfriends typically sit to cheer the team on. I was hoping maybe you'd sit there tomorrow?"

Nathan looks at me this time. My heart jumps to my throat. Why am I so nervous? This is Nathan we're talking about. My best friend. The guy I'll always support through anything.

"Oh, yeah?" That's all I can say.

Nathan's lips twitch. "Yeah."

"I'll, um, I'll think about it." I quickly unbuckle and open the passenger side door. "I gotta go."

"Gee, wait—"

I close the door and jump over the small bushes to my front yard. My heart is beating in my chest. What was he trying to say? He could have just said friends, but girlfriends?

I shakily enter the key into the lock and twist it until I hear the faint click of the deadbolt. I twist the handle and shove the door open. I feel like I'm underwater.

After taking a few deep breaths, I close the front door and lean up against it. No stress. What can I do to relieve stress?

I walk upstairs to my bedroom and kick off my shoes. The bright sun shines through my blinds. The light calms me.

"I think a bath sounds nice," I say to myself.

I walk into the bathroom that joins my room to Tony's and turn on the faucet. The rush of water echoes through the tiny room, bouncing off the tiled walls. I turn on some music and allow my stress to melt away.

Adding lavender and bubble bath always soothes me whenever I'm stressed or achy. They've been quite the lifesaver over the past year. I add a few drops of lavender oil and a generous helping of Dr. Teal's bubble bath.

Alec Benjamin's Water Fountain begins to play. I enjoy the soothing melody of the song. It's a sad song, but so well-written.

Once the water reaches a certain point and I can see little swirls of steam, I turn off the water and change out of my clothes. The water stings a little when I step into the bathtub as if I had just entered a hot tub. The feeling quickly subsides as my muscles begin to relax. I lean back into the porcelain and rest my head at the back of the tub.

I'm not sure how long I'm in here. Time just seems to stop. Then I realize I hear voices. Men's voices. And they're both very recognizable. There's a knock on the bathroom door.

"Gee, are you in here?"

I sigh and open my eyes. "Yes, Tony. I am. The music and smell of lavender should have tipped you off."

"You know it's 4:45, right?"

My stomach drops. "It is?"

I jump out of the tub, water splashing over the edge like a Shamu show at Sea World. I quickly unplug the tub and reach for my towel, firmly securing it around my drenched body.

"You okay in there?" Ryan.

"Y-yeah, I'm—"

I can't finish my sentence. Because danging right in front of me is a black sphere. It levitates in thin air. And I'm frozen in fear.

"Gemma?" Tony asks.

I can't say a word. I just stare at the massive spider. And it stares at me. When it starts to lower in front of me, I scream bloody murder and back up into Tony's bedroom door. Hard.

Then I hear his doorknob turning. And my stomach jumps.

"Don't open the door!"

But it's too late. The door swings open, resulting in me falling backward. Right onto Tony's floor. Where two boys are staring at me, concerned.

"Tony!" I yell.

Both of the boys look away when they realize I am only in a towel. My cheeks feel like they're on fire. I get up, make sure I'm covered, and stand at the threshold between the bedroom and the bathroom.

Tony clears his throat. "Um, Gee, what's going on?"

"Demonic spawn of Satan."

I can practically hear Tony roll his eyes. He sighs and pushes past me, avoiding all eye contact. He looks around and finds the spider on the floor, scurrying towards my room.

"Kill it!" I scream.

"Chill. It's just a spider."

"It is not just a spider."

Tony walks towards my room, where the carpet meets tile and stomps. He lifts his shoe, checks the bottom of it, and nods.

"There. It's gone." He looks at me, then looks away, flushed. "Now please get dressed."

I must have made the most horrifying face Tony has ever seen because he laughs and closes the bathroom door.

I quickly change into a pair of shorts and a Disney tee with Simba, Timon, and Pumba. "Hakuna Matata" is written in black letters above the characters. I grab my phone and pull up Nathan's text thread.

If you must know how the tutoring session is going:

🧖‍♀️🛀🕷😨🙎🏻‍♂️🙎🏼🙎🏼‍♀️👊🏻🕷💀🤦🏼‍♀️🪨

I hit send. Almost instantly, Nathan responds.

😱😱😱😱😱😱

I smile and set my phone down. After a second, my phone goes off again. I pick it up and look at Nathan's text.

So, if I'm correct, you were taking a bath and then you saw a spider and somehow Ryan and Tony became involved and then someone punched the spider to death and now you want to be Patrick Star?

I laugh and start typing back a response.

Nathan and I have always been this way when it comes to texting. I think I was the one who started sending emojis instead of actual words or sentences. The scenario was pretty similar. A spider infiltrated my room and I was so paralyzed in fear, I sent a series of emojis hoping Nathan would follow and be my knight in shining armor. Considering I added the death emoji, he knows not to come over. Because it's dead. And I don't need three men in this house right now fighting for my honor.

I smile down at my phone and hit send.

Talk about mortifying. I didn't realize it was almost 5. Tony knocked on the bathroom door, and before I could get dressed, the spider made its presence known. AND CHARGED AT ME!

😬Please tell me you were at least wearing something, Gee. Ryan doesn't like it when girls are so forward with him.

I know he's kidding, but the idea of what could have happened makes me feel flushed. My stomach somersaults repeatedly. A knock on my door tears me from my reverie.

GTG. Ryan is here. 🙄😭

Good luck 👍🏻

"It's open," I say and sit criss-cross on my bed. I pull the practice test from my backpack and smooth out the crumpled edges. Ryan's study guide sits on my desk by my bed.

"So, Demonic Spawns of Satan, huh?" he says, walking into the room and sitting down on my bed.

I shake my head. "Nope. Desk."

His eyes light up with mischief or curiosity or something meant to be teasing. I look away and point to the desk.

"Or we could sit on the floor if that makes you more comfortable, but my bed is off-limits." I still refuse to make eye contact with him.

"Okay, then," he says, extending the o. He moves over to the floor and leans back, putting all his weight on his extended arms.

"Do you have your test?" I mumble.

"Hm?" he asks, leaning forward. "Did you say we should rest? Because I think that's a fabulous idea."

I fix him with a glare.

"Wow, she speaks and she can look at me. What a day."

"Alright," I say and get up, moving towards the door. "If you're going to be such a...a jerk, then you can leave."

Ryan furrows his eyebrows. He doesn't get up from his spot on the floor. After a few seconds, he sighs and sits up straighter.

"You're right. Sorry." He looks up at me. "I really need the help, Gemma."

I nod and close the door. After a few deep breaths, I sit down across from him. The carpeted floor feels nice, cool, on my exposed legs.

"If you have your practice test," I say, trying not to mumble, "you should grab it. We'll be using that more today."

He nods and moves to grab his backpack. He pulls out a thin packet of chemistry questions and hands it to me. My eyes roam the pages instantly—not because of his answers, but the drawings.

"Sorry," he says, rubbing his left arm. "I sometimes can't focus, so I just draw."

My eyes land on a drawing of mountains. The sides are shaded as if to produce realistic shadows. Right beside the drawing, in barely legible handwriting, is the phrase "let the King of my heart be the mountain where I run."

I clear my throat and look at the answers. My heart squeezes as my eyes roam back up to the picture of the mountains. I shake it off and grab the answer key.

What is a cation? The first question asks. Below the scripted words, in Ryan's handwriting, is the answer: an angry electron.

I bite my lower lip. My lips twitch into a smile. And I try hard not to laugh. I mean, he's not entirely wrong. I mark it off and continue down the questions. After a few more minutes, I set the test and answer key down.

"So?" he asks. "How did I do."

"Well," I start then clear my throat. I smile. "Well, um, if this was an actual test, you would have failed. Big time."

Ryan groans and lays back on the floor.

"So, what you're saying, is there's no hope."

I shake my head. "No. I mean yes..." I pause. "I mean, no, you're wrong. Yes, there's hope. We just have to work...hard."

I giggle, thinking back to the cation question. I didn't realize Ryan sat back up and looked at me until my eyes roam over to his. I clear my throat and hand him the study guide.

"We should probably first focus on the basics. Can you describe a chemical bond to me?"

"Uh..."

Ryan looks around my room as if to find the answer somewhere in plain sight. I wouldn't be surprised if it was there, actually. My study system usually involves writing out the information on flashcards and hanging them on the walls. So, if I'm getting ready, I can study the definition of a coefficient, chemical equation, or catalyst. It's been very helpful.

"Ryan, the answer won't be there. Focus. What is a chemical bond?"

"It's something about chemicals...bonding," he finally says.

I shake my head. Not really because he's wrong, but because he's not trying. "A chemical bond is the result of sharing, gaining, or losing electrons. It basically means the substance changes. Each element has a different number of protons, electrons, and neutrons. So, if an electron is gained or lost, it changes the chemical bond of the sub—"

"Why are you helping me?" he asks.

I stare at him, confused. "I thought we already covered that."

"No," he says quickly. "I mean, yes, we did. But why are you helping me? Why did you change your mind?"

I laugh. It wasn't intentional, and I quickly feel some sort of regret when I see Ryan's face twist in confusion or sadness. But it just happened. I couldn't help it. It's such a ridiculous question.

"You're kidding, right?" I ask. It's all I can think to say.

"No, I'm not."

I shift uncomfortably and pick at the carpet. After a few more seconds, I shake my head.

"You wouldn't get it."

"Try me."

I finally look up at him. I'm taken aback by how close Ryan is. He's leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands folded under his chin.

"If..." I can't believe I'm explaining this right now. "If I were to say no, nine times out of ten, someone would have been upset at me. I'm holding the weight of the team here."

All Ryan does is shake his head. "You're not—"

"You know, I didn't even have to tell Tony I was your tutor. Your friends did that for me. And when I expressed my hesitation, he freaked out. Because if I don't tutor the quarterback, the guy who will finally get the Wizards to the playoffs, he'll fail. And I'll be to blame. Because I turned you down."

"That doesn't quite explain—"

I let out an exasperated sigh and look down at the poor floor I'm possibly mutilating at my expense. My eyes sting with unshed tears.

"I told you you wouldn't get it."

We're silent for a few minutes.

"You really could have said no. I wouldn't have held it against you."

"Right," I say, glaring at him. He shifts back a little. "I should have said no. Because all you do is beat me down. All you do is make fun of the people around you. Why? To puff up your already massive ego?"

Ryan winces. And I don't blame him. I'm being harsh.

"You don't get how heavy those words, your actions can be," I say, quieter. "The only person who understands me, who accepts me, is my best friend. My own brother doesn't...thanks to you and your awful clique. Like I needed the reminder that I'm not—"

I chew on my bottom lip and shake my head.

"A reminder that you're not what?"

"It doesn't matter," I say and sit up straighter. "I think we're done for today. You have a football game to get to, anyway. We'll meet again Monday. Same time."

I don't give Ryan a chance to speak before I get up and walk over to my desk. I need a distraction. Please leave.

Ryan clears his throat. "We're having this party after the game. It starts around 9:30. You should come."

I laugh bitterly and nod. "Sure. I'll think about it."

I can tell he's about to say something else, but he just leaves instead. My bedroom door closes softly behind him.

---

"Normally," Nathan says, standing by the chain-linked fence dividing the field from the bleachers, "I wouldn't condone this, but it might be a good idea."

I laugh and rub my hands together. It's a bit chilly this evening and I'm starting to regret not bundling up a little more. A thin jacket is doing me any justice.

"Wait, who are you?" I say through giggles.

"Nice reference," Nathan says with a smile.

It wasn't until last year that Nathan joined the football team. I've always thought the gold and maroon colors of the jerseys matched his skin tone pretty well. And the uniform just fit him well. I've told him this before. He doesn't quite think so, but I always tell him to shut up.

"Thank you. I'm here all week." I smile. "But really, what have you done with my best friend? Because you never encourage me to go to parties."

He shrugs. The light breeze ruffles his hair. "Maybe because it's our senior year?"

I rest my chin over my hands on the top of the fence. "Maybe. I don't know. I would just feel awkward."

"Then come with me." My stomach flips. "Come on. It'll be fun."

When he smiles like that, he knows I can't say no. He uses his power for evil, and he knows it.

"Fine," I say in mock exasperation. "But only for you."

"That's all I ask."

A whistle blows. Nathan grabs the helmet he's holding under his arm and pulls it over his head. He starts to jog backward and points to me.

"Meet me out front!"

I salute him and sit back down on the bleachers.

A girl from behind me sighs dreamily. I turn around. Her straight brunette hair rests over her shoulders, draping down her tan arms. Her head rests on her hand.

"You're so lucky to be dating him. Any girl would kill to be with Nathan Foster."

"Oh, we're just—"

But I'm cut off by the shrieking of a whistle and cheers from the crowd as our team runs onto the field.

"Friends," I finish with a sigh.