Complicated

Chapter Three : Panic

-Logan-

I woke up two damn hours before my alarm. The sun wasn't even up. I was wide awake, so I grabbed my phone. I had seven emails piled up from my teacher. Reminders of work I had yet to turn in to her. I looked through them all, coming to the realisation that I should've spent some time over the weekend working. I had three pages of maths homework due, as well as an entire essay I had yet to start, a history project I hadn't gotten past the research on, and a science presentation my friends had been texting me constantly about, because I had failed to do my part so far. I sighed, dropping the phone into my chest. Too much. My head hurts, and my mind is moving 1000 miles a minute. I sat up,  pulled open the drawer of my bedside table and grabbed an Advil bottle. But I didn't have to shake it once to notice it was totally empty from last night. Super. I tossed it back in, slamming the drawer and grabbing my phone again. Under all the emails, an unopened snap Oliver sent me. It'd been sitting there since an hour after everything at the church, but part of me keeps saying that if I open it, I'm initiating something. I'm not sure why, to be honest. I definitely didn't signal that I wanted anything to do with him, and the weird change in his mood was obviously because of whatever happened in that church. Still, something is telling me that there's something in that snap I don't want to see. And if I open it and he's said something, I might not have a good answer. God knows I didn't have any right answers yesterday. Hopefully he doesn't mention that I've ignored him at school. He probably won't. Fingers crossed, I thought to myself as I slugged out of bed, facing my image. I looked like I'd been in bed for a week, which was kind of what it felt like. Plus undeniable exhaustion. I yawned for the hundredth time as I walked slowly out of the room to go brush my teeth, get breakfast, and try to think of some way to maybe get an extension on all this shit I have due. Oliver and Ethan won't get too pissed, but I will have to explain why I haven't done any work. And I don't really have a good answer, other than I couldn't bring myself to do anything productive this weekend. This past like, 8 weekends. And if I can't understand that for myself, there's no way they would. I tripped down a couple steps on the stairs, catching myself on the bannister and pinching myself awake. This was going to be a slow, painful day to add to many.

-Oliver-

I rushed into my first period class, math, (fuck everything.) in an attempt to get a decent spot before everyone else got there. I succeeded, being the third to class. I can't stand sitting in the front. I'm already struggling through the class as is, having Mrs. Hadley staring me the hell down and calling on me for questions I can't answer doesn't help. So anywhere in the back two rows is always the goal. Unfortunately, most of my class usually has the same idea as me. Logan's the only friend I have in this class. We have a friend group of like 10 guys, and somehow he's in 4 out of 6 of my classes. Weird considering there are 500 grade nine students in this school, and way too many classes for those odds. I have him for maths, science, English, and PE. Which sucks, being all gross in PE with the guy I like. Although since I already know I have no chance, I guess it doesn't matter too much. Anyway, Logan always comes in late, but our desks are in groups of twos so he's always wherever I choose to sit. Surprisingly, he was close to on time this morning. He walked in at the bell, which would've been a perfectly acceptable time for any teacher but Mrs. Hadley. No matter, she's used to his lack of care. "Hey." He said under his breath as he hung his bag on the back of his chair, and pulled his notebook out. I looked over at him, catching my breath. He had bags under his eyes, which were bloodshot and tear stained. His lips were dry and cracked, and his nose was red as well. He didn't look the same as yesterday. He even had the same hoodie as yesterday, paired with sweatpants that looked like they've been worn a thousand times. "You look rough. You alright?" I asked him quietly as the teacher called role. He nodded. "Yeah. Dog kept me up all night tryna get into my room." He smiled. His smile was the same, so I decided he couldn't be lying. I nodded back, looking ahead as he did. "Alright, please pull out the homework you were asked to complete over this weekend, and Stacey will come through and collect them." Said the teacher. I pulled the three pages out of my notebook. Logan didn't. Stacey, the teachers assistant this term, came through the aisles to collect the papers. She paused in front of Logan. "You got any pages for me?" She asked, the couple side conversations went silent. This school is starved for drama. "Uh, no." He said with half the volume she had used to ask. Stacey shook her head and walked on as Miss. Hadleys attention was drawn. "Logan, what's this I hear you've not completed your homework?" She asked him, a clearly condescending tone underlining her voice. He shook his head. "Got an excuse?" She lowered her head, looking past her glasses at him. "Lots of, uh, family stuff and-" she cut him off. "If I gave exceptions for holiday celebrations this class would be far behind." She scolded. "You can come back during lunch to finish that work up." Now that wasn't great. He was supposed to work with me and Ethan to finish our science demo. He hasn't done much of anything yet, and I can tell Ethan is starting to get annoyed. I'm trying not to, but he's not making it easy. It's been two weeks and he's done nothing. Can't help but wonder why. "But Mrs, I-" she cut him off a second time. "Ah ah ah, you had plenty of time to complete it. You've done this to yourself." He sunk down into his seat, and I could tell he knew she was right. He started tapping his leg on the floor, and I hoped he wasn't stressing to much about this. He's really good at hiding stuff like this, and I only know that because he has to have something to hide. Nobody's life is as easy as he portrays his. So I know that if his work load is freaking him out, he won't do anything to help himself. "Y'know, we can probably get an extension on science if-" I whispered to him, in an attempt to help him out a bit, but he was quick to shut me up. "It's fine." He told me, without eye contact. His leg slowed to a stop. "Alright." I forced myself to accept his answer, knowing if he really needed help he would do something about it. Hopefully. I copied numbers off the board mindlessly as the lesson went on, and as the period bell finally rang, I was given yet another opportunity to analyse my friend. He shot up out of his seat as everyone else stood slowly. He piled the contents of his desk onto his binder, hightailing it out of there like his seat was on fire. I pushed his chair in, making room for myself to follow him in his pursuit. He practically ran to his next period, dodging classmates sloppily and knocking books out of people's hands. I stopped to help one of his victims gather her notes, but by the time I was done he had disappeared to his second period class. I joined him a minute later, and that class went like clockwork. After another hour, he repeated the same hectic process on his way to period three. I wouldn't be able to keep an eye on him since we didn't have the same class, but it wasn't too disappointing since his behaviour hadn't changed since late this morning. After lunch we would have science, though. That would be interesting, if nothing else.