Empty Space

IV.

"Okay. I'm not saying this will happen-- 'cause it won't-- but, hypothetically, if you do in fact fail... what will happen?"

"I can't go to uni on time and then I will be a semester behind and then I won't get a job cause my future employers will see what a slacker and idiot I am so I'll just have to live the rest of my life alone and in my mum's basement... or here in my bedroom, but basement sounds worse."

"Stand up."

"What?-"

"Stand up and put your arms to the side. I'm not asking." When Ila freaked out, this stern mothering side of Maya came out.

Ila follows her instructions, standing up from her bed, placing herself in the middle of her room. Maya rips her comforter off of her bed, wrapping it around Ila. She covers all around her head, leaving only her face open so she can talk and breathe, and wraps the rest of it around Ila's body.

"Now, without falling, scoot yourself back onto your bed."

She does what she is told, scooting and swaying herself forward, flopping onto her back. She feels like a swaddled baby, which is probably Maya's point, for she joined her on her bed, wrapping her strong arms around her.

"You're safe. Breath. Everything you just said is 100% irrational. You won't fail."

"He didn't seem to have much faith."

"Because he's Mr. Jennings. He's a depressed 40-year-old who teaches calculus to a bunch of teenagers. And teaches is a strong word for what he does. You'll find help. You can do this."

"Who will help me? I don't like talking to people."

"I will."

"And I will pass on that lovely offer."

"You might have a point there." Maya hugs Ila tighter. "We'll figure it out, even if it kills me."

"Well, that would be the lamest way to go."

"I know, but I'm willing to die by finding you a tutor instead of going out in a fiery flame of glory."

They sit there for a bit, exchanging ways that would be the noblest and coolest way to go out. All of the ways seem unimaginable or unreal.

"Still up to go to the game tonight? We can always just stay home, brainstorming ways to save your grade."

"That honestly sounds like hell."

"It's just a front. We would actually be eating ice cream and watching Iron Man."

"That sounds amazing, but I think I'll stick with the game. I could use a routine right about now."

"Then get your ass up, we've got a game to get hot for."

"I would if I could move my limbs. Your swaddling skills are too good."

***

The air is humid, the crowd is loud and obnoxious as always, and the small of Ila's back is more wet than damp.

She's been bumped into more times than she can count by her fellow rowdy audience members (yes, she was fighting back, occasionally giving them a hip bump in return) and her drink was nearly kicked over by the dude beside her.

Why everyone got so nuts over a simple game of high school football, Ila doesn't know.

Why Ila got so into the game, even Ila herself had no clue. But it was a chance for her to get lost within the game in front of her, yelling and cheering, feeling a part of something bigger. Concerts also had the same effect, but these games' fees of entry were only five bucks.