Anxiety had crashed into my existence like a brick through a stained glass window. AP testing was officially underway, lacrosse playoffs were about to start, and the stakes couldn't be higher. Come July 1st, I would be eligible to commit to a NESCAC school. I'd narrowed down my choices to three colleges but kept my cards close to my chest. Only my parents knew which coaches I'd spoken intensively with over the course of the last few months and who I needed to impress with a stellar transcript and impeccable stats.

I'd never had a problem balancing my academics and lacrosse, but external factors had disrupted my equilibrium. Everything was harder. I spent all my free time in the library studying, resulting in darker eye bags and using my eye drops twice as often, including right now as I made my way to Honors Physics.

My phone vibrated as soon as I stepped into the Science Building, and my heart momentarily seized when I saw that it was a text from Trip. I braced myself with a deep inhale before opening it.

TRIP MCKENNA, 1:12 PM: hope your AP Lang exam went well. Let me know if you still need my flashcards on the Supreme Court cases

CHANDLER ENGLAND, 1:13 PM: my exam went smoothly enough, thanks

CHANDLER ENGLAND, 1:13 PM: and no need, I made my own

I wasn't going out of my way to be snippy with him, just like he wasn't going out of his way to be distant with me. At least that was what we mutually seemed to be telling ourselves in an attempt to maintain some semblance of normalcy. We were neck-deep in our respective exams and didn't want or need any distractions.

Except, I'd give almost anything to know if this standoff was killing him like it was killing me.

I turned off my phone as I approached my classroom, but the screen lit up with an email notification before I could pocket it. I immediately rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what this email was about without even reading the subject line. Today was the first Thursday of the month and it was time to switch up the assigned dinner tables for Formal Thursday. I'd gotten lucky with my last seating assignment, having sat with Kelsey and a handful of mellow juniors. I was able to walk away from each dinner without a headache, but that certainly wasn't the norm.

I stopped at the landing on my way up to the second floor and opened the email.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Formal Thursday Seating Assignment

Dear Chandler,

Please see the attached file for your dinner seating assignment for Formal Thursday. This assignment is valid through the end of the term. Attendance is mandatory unless your Absence Form has received approval.

Best of luck with your exams!

Cannondale Student Life

Attachment: Table 9

Caroline Drake
Chandler England
Harley Meyers
Win Petrov
Zander Suarez
Ophelia Tyler

Of the six names on the list, two of them jumped out: Caroline Drake and Win Petrov. I was attending dinner in a tinderbox.

"Headmistress Harvey is out for blood," I muttered under my breath, borderline convinced that she had tiny inspect spies everywhere. I imagined that if that was the case, she'd deem this seating assignment as proper retribution for Dad schooling her in her own office last month.

After refilling my Camelback water bottle, I marched into class, greeted my teacher with a cordial wave, and sat at my assigned lab bench. It also happened to be Win's lab bench. He looked up at me from his laptop with the practiced patience of a lion waiting to be fed by a zoologist. The only problem was that even if a lion had learned to be patient, it was still a lion.

"For everyone's sanity, but mostly my own, play nice at dinner," he grumbled. He had his phone open in front of him with the email on the screen.

I gave a wistful sigh and started unpacking my backpack. "I don't play nice, Winslow. I play to win."

"There's nothing to win at dinner, Chandler."

"Except for the hearts and minds of the rest of our cohort."

"Whatever. What did you think of the AP Lang Exam?" Win asked.

We weren't in the same AP Lang class, but everyone who took AP Lang at Cannondale and had registered for the exam sat for it this morning at 8:00 AM. It was 3 hours and 15 minutes long, consisting of a multiple-choice section and a free-response section.

"It was pretty straightforward." I unceremoniously dropped my notebook onto the desk and flipped it open to a blank page. "But I don't want to think about it and the pressing debate on improving STEM education initiatives ever again.''

"Fair.'' Win cracked his knuckles. ''My hand still hurts from writing."

"Aw, do you want a hand massage?"

He violently straightened in his seat and scanned the classroom. "Can someone switch seats with me? I've been threatened." His comical plea garnered a round of chuckles and an eye roll from our teacher, but no one moved.

"Looks like you're stuck with me," I mused triumphantly, clicking the top of my pen. "In Physics and on Formal Thursdays for the rest of the year."

Win heaved out a sigh and slumped back into his chair. "It's a dream come true."

✘ ✘ ✘

I arrived at the dining hall for Formal Thursday later than I'd wanted to, courtesy of lacrosse practice running 30 minutes beyond its usual end time. My hair was still damp from my quick post-practice shower, but the cardigan I wore over the floral-patterned chiffon dress I recently bought from Aritiza kept me warm enough in the blasting AC.

I was the last one to arrive at Table 9, and the singular open seat was at the end of the table beside Win. He sent me a ghost of a grin as I approached, leading me to believe that he'd saved me a seat next to him. For someone who claimed that there wasn't anything to win at dinner, he was certainly acting like we were in the midst of some sort of intense friendship game.

The conversation at the table ceased when I dropped into the seat and crossed my legs with unnecessary flare. "Happy Formal Thursday everyone. What are we talking about?"

"Proposed environmental initiatives at Cannondale," Win replied in his typical half-bored and half-amused drawl. "Riveting stuff."

At least this was more interesting than STEM initiatives.

I set an elbow on the table and braced my chin on my fist as I looked at him intently. ''I'd love nothing more than to hear your pitch, Win."

"It's not my turn to share.'' Win flicked a piece of lint off the sleeve of his quarter zip and it landed on the skirt of my dress.

I sat upright and narrowed my eyes, but chose to pursue peace by flicking it onto the floor.

"I'm actually so glad you're here now, Chandler," Caroline piped up, flicking her thick blonde braid over her shoulder. She sat directly across from Win, making it nearly impossible for me to visually ignore her presence. "We need another female opinion for this. Don't you think the bathrooms should only offer non-applicator tampons?"

"No."

Caroline smiled and arched an eyebrow that seemed sharper than usual. She also seemed to have finally figured out how to properly blend out her bronzer. "Why ever not?'' She asked, her blue eyes widening with sickening curiosity. ''The use of plastic is unnecessary and obscene."

Icy-hot anxiety that had nothing to do with the conversation itself unexpectedly surged through me.

Not only was Caroline unbothered by my blunt disagreement, but she also seemed excited by the prospect of getting to disagree with me in front of a captive audience. And that hadn't happened before - at least not with people who weren't already privy to our distaste for each other. However, while the two of us had mutually engaged in a fair amount of petty sparing over the last couple of months, it wasn't lost on me that I was the one to initiate it.

Caroline Drake had once nakedly vied for my attention while in pursuit of what I reasoned was status and validation. But when I didn't give her and her phony compliments the time of day, she dropped the act and went into combat.

I was familiar with the expression that enemies start off as friends, but the same could be said for admirers. Nobody knows how to trash your name better than those who once respected and applauded it.

I folded my hands together and set them on the table, willing them not to shake. "Not everyone knows how to use non-applicator tampons."

"But they can learn."

"Now that's unnecessary and obscene."

In my peripheral vision, I saw Win briefly put his head in his hands. He didn't have the credibility to intervene here and he knew that.

In other words, no uterus, no opinion.

The same could be said for Zander and Harley, who looked between the two of us like they were watching a tennis match. They did, however, seem more entertained than Win. And I honestly couldn't blame them - it wasn't every day that I brought out my claws.

"Cannondale needs to demonstrate complete commitment to environmental sustainability," Caroline argued. "Anything less than fully supporting these initiatives is irresponsible and tarnishes our school's reputation."

"For the record, I support environmental initiatives," I clarified, glancing around the table. Win studiously avoided my gaze. "But the Cannondale administration shouldn't have the authority to dictate the kind of tampons distributed. Besides, what's the point of making tampons easily accessible if they're not actually easy to use?"

Caroline whipped her head in Ophelia's direction. "What do you think, Ophelia?"

This was match point.

Table 9's collective attention zeroed in on Ophelia, who sat to Win's left. I had to lean forward to look at her; she played with the ends of her auburn hair and looked like she was on the verge of short-circuiting.

Not on my watch.

"We shouldn't be forcing people to disclose their tampon preferences," I said through gritted teeth.

"Oh please," Caroline scoffed out with more confidence and snark than I'd ever witnessed her display. "Don't let her speak for you, Ophelia."

Her?

I wondered if I should be flattered that she'd reduced me to a pronoun and spoken with the venom worthy of a supervillain.

Ophelia took an unsteady breath, lowering her hand to fidget with her dainty heart-shaped necklace. "I just...I don't know if this conversation is productive-"

The arrival of the dining hall monitor at the table interrupted what was sounding like a conciliatory redirection of our conversation.

"Table 9 is permitted to join the dinner queue," the woman announced before continuing her rounds.

Zander rocketed out of his seat, nearly causing it to topple backwards. "God bless America."

As hungry as I was, I didn't mirror Zander's enthusiastic exit. Instead, I shifted slightly in my seat to finally make eye contact with Win, whose words from a few weeks ago fired through my mind: I forget that you're like this sometimes.

I didn't know what he'd meant at the time, but I did now. He thought he knew me. He thought he was clever enough to pinpoint what exactly made me think and act the way I did. He thought he had me figured out.

But he was wrong. And so was everyone else who dared to think the same thing. I wasn't some mathematical equation that could be solved.

I lifted a hand to form a mini performative shield between us and everyone else remaining as I leaned in to whisper into his ear, "How's that for playing nice?"

I pulled back and stood up with the same level of dramatic flare that I'd displayed earlier when I arrived. This was very much one of those look what you made me do moments in which I complied with my worst impulses.

''You're certainly winning hearts and minds,'' Win deadpanned, but he surrendered the faintest of smirks.

I ensured I caught Caroline's gaze before responding to him. ''And that's all that matters.''

'sup, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. chandler x win content is silly but also important 👽 anyway ~ the big MO is still intact, so see you next week for chapter 38, which is another favorite but for completely different reasons hehe x