CECE, DISRESPECTFULLY | ✓

34: BLINDSIDED

            I do my best to not look up too often as I lean against the wall by the library entrance. The same way that I pretend not to care so a video will load faster, I do my best to steer my thoughts from Diwa as I spin one of my skateboard wheels.

We agreed to meet for our shared off period before lunch but the bell rang minutes ago.

Diwa's late.

Unless she's not coming.

Why would she? This whole friends thing were ridiculous in the first place. She's probably had a moment of clarity and changed her mind. Now that I think about it, I'm not all that sure any of our conversations happened; they could've been lucid dreams. Or maybe I hallucinated the whole thing.

This is stupid. I should leave–

Just as I push off the wall, Diwa turns into the corridor, note- and textbook under her arm. She smiles and jogs the last few metres.

'Sorry. Physics went over.'

Unless this is all a scheme.

You've completely forgotten the possibility that she's spending time with you to collect evidence of your silly vandalism. She'll give it to them. You'll get–

–locked in.

'Let's go inside.'

The door has swung shut after her by the time I follow.

I tuck my skateboard under my arm and pull my hood up, keeping my stare nailed to the chunky heels of her boots. Diwa strides through the library to the same table I found her at two months ago.

The physics section is barren save for a lone wolf watching Degrassi: The Next Generation on their phone. The crunch of their sweet and sour crisps is loud enough for it to feel like there are four others.

'I won't be any help in biology,' Diwa says as she sits with her bag in her lap to unpack her needs, 'and you must be doing fine in maths since you're such a self-described genius, so let's start with English.'

She watches me with an eagerness that testaments her in her element. It's lost to a twitch in her brow when I keep awkwardly hovering.

'Are you gonna sit?'

My cheeks burn. I glance around but nobody is watching so I lower myself into the chair opposite her.

'So what are your thoughts on Macbeth?'

'...I don't know them.'

Diwa stares at me. She picks up a book from the desk to show me the cover: Macbeth by William Shakespeare.

'I thought you said you'd read over the holidays.'

'No,' I correct, holding up a finger. 'I said I'd brainstorm the coursework which is unrelated to this play.'

'So have you done that?'

'Well... no.' Laughter laces into my words, though when Diwa's expression suggests she's taking this as a personal offence, I stop. 'Soz, mate. From this second onwards, I promise I'll start brainstorming.'

'I can't help you pass mocks if you don't read the books.' Diwa's characteristics bite shreds the syllables.

I slump in my chair. 'Shakespeare's boring.'

Diwa's eyes narrow. 'How would you know if you've not read any of his work?'

'Call it instinct.'

She don't laugh.