FOUR YEARS BEFORE

No, no, no, no.

How could I have forgotten today's Spanish exam?

How was I able to put my place at the University on the line?

How did I let myself be influenced by Chelsea?! Damn, dammit.

I knew it had been a bad idea to attend a party at Harley Tombson's house  on a Tuesday. If I had only sustained my argument for a few more minutes, Chelsea would have given up dragging me to South Boston just to attend a dumb party at the cottage of the most popular girl in high school.

A damn party the day before the Spanish exam!

Everything was going downhill!

My brain was too busy trying to recover from the alcohol it was subjected to during the evening games to recall the subjects of Mr. Kavisck's classes. My ability to swallow thousands  of contents in a single minute had melted along with each of my neurons. It was as if I had been turned to powder thanks to the damn whiskey I swallowed down my throat without even remembering the next day.

It was only fifteen minutes before I was forced into the room and faced the nightmare written on sheets of paper. Despair was already holding me hostage.

I just hated that feeling of insecurity, powerlessness, and worthlessness. Reading the questionnaire and realizing that no sentence was good enough to have as an answer made me want to pull my hair out without any pity. Delivering the blank proof seemed more appropriate than delivering with empty and meaningless answers. That would destroy all my credibility.

The anxiety was beginning to disturb me along with other whirlwinds of euphoric thoughts, it didn't take long for me to start discounting all the internal emotional discharge in my physique. All so that the pressure would relieve.

The shortness of breath, as always, was already showing signs.

Fuck if Chelsea would spend hours complaining about my brittle wires! Fuck if she'd beg to put fake nails on my finger noises! That was her fault!

I slammed my feet on the ground and began to walk the halls of the building in uncontrolled anxiety.

The air began to disappear from my lungs and the desperation almost made me forget about the asthma bomb inside my pocket. I grabbed it quickly and sucked before it got worse.

The oxygen dose helped, but it didn't lessen the feelings.

The signal rang just as I was looking for data on my phone to go to G****e and jot down some information in my brain. I tried to hurry to see something useful, but Professor Kavisck was already making his way to the classroom.

I wasted no time and ran to find a comfortable chair where few could see my utter despair.

Buenos Días! —  the jovial—  looking man placed his belongings on the table and balanced his glasses on the tip of his nose. —   I hope everyone is prepared.

Many nodded confidently as I curled up in a ball of wool.

I, the daughter of a Brazilian, knew many words in common with Spanish. But my reasoning was gone. Mom would kill me if she knew I forgot her tongue one night.

—   Looks like they're all present. — he looked at the time on his wristwatch. – Well…

—   Buenos días, profesor! —   Chelsea arrived in the room interrupting him with a gigantic smile on her face.

—   You're late, Miss Morgan —   Kavisck threw her a scolding look that would make me cry easily, but he wasn't able to wring joy out of the girl.

—   Como desées! —   he shrugged.

Chelsea teased the head of the room by saying goodbye and sat down in a chair on the other side, far away from me, where she wouldn't be able to hear the rants I wanted to burden on her.

Settled into her seat, my friend looked at me, waved, and let out a wink.

She looked happy.

Too happy.

She had studied! I could see it in his confident posture!

I already knew that. Chelsea was very different from me, and among our disagreements, she had an unbelievable ability to recover from a hangover in the blink of an eye.

While I died of headaches and burned in fever for hours, she would drink a draft beer and respond to activities.

Fuck.

All for a momentary pleasure.

Drug!

—   Slut —   I muttered half —  heartedly.

—   Like you said, Backer? —   All of a sudden, when I turned away from Chelsea, everyone had their concentration on me.

—   Nothing, Professor, —   I curled up in my chair more than I could, getting completely nervous.

—   Great, —   he was cold. —   As I was saying, the race was scheduled for today, however...

A smile wanted to escape my lips as I heard him contradict his entire sentence with a single word, giving me hope that it would be delayed and I could take my 10 with no chance of tarnishing my report card.

— ... I had said it would be single, but after some ideas, I decided to form pairs.

It wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear, but it was enough for a sigh of relief to escape my lungs.

Chelsea had studied and she was always my double.

—  I want you to interact with your colleagues and share your knowledge, —   Mr. Kavisck began to pull the leaves out of his bag. You will be able to do that.

The teacher watched the entire end of the classroom cautiously and sat back down in his seat, crossing his legs carefreely.

I prepared to get up from my seat and sit next to my friend, but before I could do that, Kavisck hurried over:

—   The pairs will be formed by me. When I call the names, get organized.

The students were just disappointed by that statement, but I was furious.

Furious!

Devastated!

Damn, dammit!

It was as if the universe was loving watching my suffering in slow motion.

—   Jonas Cohan and Sabrina Mason.

The teenagers mentioned were happy and satisfied to meet each other. How could they not stay? They were best friends!

—   Douglas Jr. and Ian Sullivan. — the professor adjusted his glasses once more.—Kathleen Patrison and Louis O'Malley. Chelsea Rodriguez and Harley Tompson.

My best friend's bright smile made me stop paying attention to the professor's words. Seeing her content to sit next to the most popular girl in high school brought me treacherous feelings that pumped my consciousness.

I was furious. I should have known that would happen. Chelsea always got me into holes and never helped me get out of them, she cared little for my concern about not having grades less than nine on my report card. All it took was a seven and a few sixes to get through the year.

If I had known it would be like this, I would never have gone to that damn party.

—   Backer! — an echo sounded in my eardrums. —   Angel Backer!

When I recovered from the vegetative state, the whole room stared at me with questioning looks. Only Mr. Kavisck harbored impatience rather than doubt.

—  You're not listening to me?   —   His tone was enough to make me succumb.

I hated getting scolded or anything that involved putting a warning on my school record.

— O... what?

He snorted.

—   Sit next to Ian Caccini!

My eyes widened at his exclamation and my legs turned to jelly.

—   Why would I do that? —   The questioning came out before I could retrieve all the strings of reasoning.

—   Because I'm bossing! Unless you want to spend the time of the test next to the director!

The stiff man's scream made my recovery even more difficult.

—  But,—   I stammered, trying to quell the anxiety and remember why I had to go sit next to Ian.

—   I don't have it all day! — bellowed once more.

I continued in the same place, lost in a world where nothing fit.

—  Alright, I will,—   a low, hoarse voice protruded around the room, and suddenly Ian was standing in front of me. —   Can you move it back a bit?

Seeing that paralyzed boy near me, waiting for me to react somehow, made me go back to the real world.

My duo for the test was Ian Caccini.

Of all the students in the room, Mr. Kavisck put me together with the weirdest in the school.

—   Are you going to remove it or not? — he questioned impatiently, staring at me without any concern or intimidation.

—  Sorry,—   I whispered, dragging myself to the left side of the bench. —   I don't...

—  I know,—   he settled down and shrugged. —  Your legs are too tired from the effort you made dancing at Harley Tombson's party  last night for you to walk up to my chair.

My sockets jumped out of my eyes at that boy's comment. A mixture of weird sensations rolled my stomach as if someone had punched me.

What a jerk!

—   What did you… What? —   I didn't hear it right, right?

—  What did you hear, Prom Queen. — he remained indifferent.

—   Who do you think you are? —   Instead of cursing him, I decided to stand my ground.

—   Don't be angry, Backer, I didn't lie.

If we weren't surrounded by students I would fly up to that boy.

—   Not that it's your business, but I barely danced at that party. By the way, I didn't go to your chair because I don't usually sit next to idiots!

—   Not usually, is it? — he smiled sarcastically. —   You spend the break surrounded by them.

Argh! How I wished to pluck that laugh with my fingernails!

He was so... Weird, arrogant and whenever he talked to me he made me feel like a helpless ant.

It's no wonder he didn't have friends.

—  Do you like watching me? Are you a lunatic? —   I straightened the posture on the chair. —   Our parents being friends doesn't make us be either!

Oh, yes... And I saw him every weekend without exception. This was the sentence God gave for my sins.

—  Who says I want to be your friend? 

There was a lot more to his sentence than he let on, but I shook my head not to overthink that twinkle in his eye.