Charlie's P.O.V

Next week turns into today's stress. I get out of bed earlier than my usual 4:00 am to study. Sydney says there's no need to take the examinations so seriously, but I am not taking any chances. Also, if she saw what I saw, she would have felt just as intimidated. When presenting my medicals, I realised a lot of students were walking while reading. Almost everyone was glued to their books. If that does not tell me that Spencer High's examinations are no walk in the park, what will?

I leave for school before Sydney wakes up. Passing nods to greet elders, I feel unready - so unprepared that when the siren wails and all of us writing the entrance exams settle wide spaces apart from one another in an enormous hall, and when the papers are shared, the Calculus catches me off guard.

By how simple it is.

*

Aside from exam stress in the morning, I have had something akin to peace from Monday till now. The examinations were straightforward.

Pupils erupt from various classrooms, jubilating over the conclusion of the examinations. Albeit a great struggle snaking my way through the blooming crowd of cheers, I make it to the library in one piece. In St. Johns, I always celebrate my last papers with whatever recent literary piece I can lay my hands on.

"Yo, we're partying tomorrow!" A burly, sweaty guy bumps into me. I wince, but he doesn't notice as he skips into a pathway between shelves, leaving the entrance open for his mates to huddle in.

What in the world -, I think, as it dawns on my ears that they are not the only ones making noise. Everyone is talking! The strangest part is that even the librarian is guffawing with some girls at her desk.

This is awful. I am cognizant of the fact that examinations are over. Hence, this behaviour is normal, but this is the wrong location. Also, I need quiet to find something to read.

Isn't anyone going to bring order?

As if on cue, an intercom starts blaring white noise, and then a feminine voice floats in the air.

" Fellow students of Spencer High, please endeavour to shut up. We would like to give you a few announcements because the principal told us to, and you know," she chuckles, " she loves to be the life of the party -"

"- Yes, " a male speaker interjects. "This is your ever charming bad-boy Byron speaking, and I am here with my co-newscaster..."

"Rexha."

For some reason, the girl's name drops the noise into murmurs. I thank her in my head and wear my fluffy pink earmuffs, which I have learnt to always keep in my backpack since my painstaking plane ride.

"... Now to the latest gist. The new edition of our school's magazine will be coming out soon, and for the first time in our awards column, even potential students are part of the nominees! You heard me; the library can't protect y'all from us..."

I wander unconsciously to the non-fiction shelves, where my listless gaze skims past book titles.

The only thing that snaps me back to Earth is a mechanic engineering volume slipping off, smacking my head as I bend to look at the books in the bottom row. I yelp and look through the space of the shelf to see two girls who are too engrossed in their chinwag about what they will wear to a party to even turn around and apologise. I take this as my cue to leave.

I begin scouting for a more serene spot, turning a corner. I enter an apparently quiet classroom, only to find the African American guy from my first class and a girl in smokey-eye makeup toiling with his locks inside.

"Oh, hey!" he waves. I smile back, albeit stunned.

"Urr-"

"-if you need a private spot to do your book club or whatever, go to the rooftop," the girl suddenly cuts me off. He shoots her an alarmed look, but she grins at me in the 'in case you don't get the hint; I want you to leave' manner that does not faze me.

This is also when the bell rings for closing to my relief. As I enter the parking lot, Sydney's Hundi is no way in view. It takes me half an hour of awkwardly prancing about to give up.

My legs feel like paper on my skateboard. As precarious and exhausting as it is to attempt going home alone, I would rather get lost or faint on the road than spend another second waiting.

My mind is not there when a honk blares behind me and before I realise, a car's roof hits a tree branch, causing leaves to fall on me.

" Yo Charlie!" My attempt at relaxing is abruptly intruded. My head dips down.

" Harry?"

"Duh. Dude, get in here!"

Chuckling, I join my lousy-smiling, childhood buddy.

Compared to last year, there has been a significant improvement in Harry's car's scent, and there are no piles of snack wrappers. I commend him for this, and he smirks smugly.

It's not long before we arrive at my place, where we conclude that no one is home based on the empty garage.

"Sydney has gone out?" Harry locks his car.

"Yes. To work," I say as we approach the porch. When his brows perk up, I don't blame him. I was just as surprised when Sydney told me she was a freelance scriptwriter. Then, I became impressed after reading some of her scripts. Silver, on the other hand, felt that Sydney was trauma-dumping for money - whatever that means.

Harry sighs," You really have not changed," and settles on the couch outside. " she's still single, right? I still have a shot, right?"

"Seriously?" I groan," You have not changed either."

He still gives me an expectant look, so I shake my head, only for him to gasp," So she's cheating on me!"

"EW!" I glower.

He cracks up - instead of taking this as his cue not to irritate me further, - prodding me to tackle him to the ground as he guffaws,

"Charlie stAWP!-"

"You're horrid, mate," I say, catching his hands and pinning them on both sides, "are you seriously having a laugh?!"

"Ok, ok, I'll stop," he chortles. His laughter festers as I release my grip just a little, then enough for him to get the upper hand.

"Wha - agH-" Rolling into a straddling pose, he attacks me with belly tickles.

"Oi, get off me! " I squeak while he is fake whispering between cackles," Shhh, my son -"

"Is everything alright there?!"

We freeze. Harry tips his head up and gives the plum, messy-haired lady staring at us from the short fence his signature goofy smile.

"Oh, hi! " he says, "No, everything is peachy. Thank you for asking!"

I lift my head and see the neighbour retreat to her home, shaking her head. Harry shrugs at me, and I huff.

"First of all, you're dirtying my shirt." I try to wipe off the dust marks on my shirt. "Secondly, don't talk to the neighbour. She's part of the list of people we don't talk to."

"There's a list?" He gets up, pulling me along by my right arm. "Who is on it?"

"The neighbour, " I say, " she threw away Sydney's casserole."

"Oh, not the casserole," he gapes like he was the one offended. I cringe, and he rests his chin on his knee, pouting. "Am I on the list?"

"Yes." I fill the space between him and the old couch's armrest. His lips purse.

" But don't be flattered," I add," Syd also thinks Sil's friends are bad influences on her, even though it's the other way around. "

"Clearly." He sucks his teeth to that, eroding the tense line between his brows while I give him the death stare upon hearing 'clearly'.

I'm the only one allowed to say bad stuff about my sister.

"Oh, wait - speaking of Sil's friends," Harry says, "Anna is in my school, you know?"

"Yes, I know." My shoulders slouch.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Wait a minute -" He cups his chin. "Don't tell me... Are you enrolling in my school?"

I nod." And I saw her in one of the sophomore classes."

"Oh." His right brow rises to touch his black curtain of hair. "Must have been weird seeing her."

"Not at first." I frown. His eyes squint in disbelief, and it takes a lot in me to suppress a sudden urge to bite my fingernail.

"I mean...I never h-had a problem with her anyway, but like -"

"- She's stuck up." Harry sneers. I shake my head as my gaze unconsciously lingers on the Tauros tattoo on his neck. But, before I can find the right words to explain what happened, he ducks, so I inevitably meet his grey eyes.

" She, um, she." I pause.

Try again, Charlie.

" Wh-when we, um, first saw each other... she was talking about how Sil was her close friend an- and like... that made me feel guilty because I couldn't tell her th- that -"

This is where I have two choices, neither of which I like. I can tactically leave out some parts - which will be tough to do while he stares at me like this - or tell him everything and try my best not to cry.

"That what?" he asks.

"I felt that she deserved to know." I "Urm, that Sil tried to... harm herself -"

"What -" Harry grimaces.

"So I told Anna about it a-a-and instead of being sad, she said thats probably a trick to get out and she started calling my sister a selfish brat a-and then, suddenly, Anna claimed she stayed away from me because of Sil? I don't know, but she...um, she was rubbing my arm in some weird way, so I told her to stop, an-and she got pissed that I yelled at her, so she stormed off."

Throughout my mumbling and fumbling, Harry's facial expression drifts from horrified to irked to flabbergasted. However, horror comes out victorious as he gawks at me.

"But, like, Sil harmed herself? When? How?"

I blink. When I told Sydney, she called my grandmother, who only assured us that Sil was better and undergoing psychological evaluation. No other information was given that I know of. I shared a womb with her, and yet I know nothing.

I have no answer, Harry.

"Damn, juvie sucks that much?" he exclaims.

"It is not about that."

"Well, it's not your fault either, if that's what you are thinking." He regards the instant sharpness of my tone with a stern look. I finally bite my index fingernail.

"Seriously, " he says, "it's not your fault."

"But it wouldn't have happened if she was with me," I retort. Something heavy bursts out of my chest. It resonates in a crescendo of hot rage.

"She should be here with me. Why is she not here with me? If we had gotten her an actual lawyer, none of this -"

'-Gotten her a lawyer with whose money? Sydney's?' An inner voice cuts me off.

"Hey. " Harry holds my shoulders before I can register what I am hearing.

"Hey, look at me." his hands migrate to my cheeks. " Stop thinking."

Then, he shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply. I cringe but still join him, inhaling and exhaling at his slow tempo. After six intakes, we are interrupted by his phone buzzing in his back pocket.

"Oh," he says, checking the screen," it's some guys asking for directions to my house."

"Why?"

"Cuz, I'm throwing a party tomorrow."

"Oh." My tone drops, making him look up from his phone.

He frowns. "Why the sad 'oh'?"

"Because." I shrug. "I thought we could hang out tomorrow."

He considers my response for a moment, cringes, and then bats his eyelids at me.

"Aww," he coos. "Ok, then, come before it starts."

*

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Author's note:

I'm sorry I keep editing chapters, but the story is still the same, so don't worry.

If you have any concerns, questions, etc, please comment.