"Easy for you to say, when everyone there looks like you already," Mack spits out.

It all registers in the lucid background of my mind. It's a technique that spawned from years of practice. It's quite easy after a few tries too. I can listen to everything without letting it take up the front and center position of my brain, leaving plenty of room for my mental ramblings of the utmost importance.

"Okay, hold up," Gus squeaks, clapping his hands together. "I'm not saying representation isn't important, because, girlfriend, I know. I just think it's totally unnecessary to make it the focus of it all. Like, I get the man was black, but that's not why he was a great president, and people shouldn't reference him as 'the only black president' all the time."

"He was the only black president, though," Chloe speaks evenly.

"I think I get Gus's point," Nat says in that ever-so-reasonable, peace-making tone that I know drives Mack crazy.

Normally, I would've shot her a knowing grin, relishing in the sight of my oldest friend holding in the eye roll with headache-inducing levels of effort. But something far too distracting happens a few tables over, in the belly of the hockey elite, where the loud dark-haired left winger — I've been doing my research on ice hockey positions — tries to steal Eli Blake's beanie. Eli grabs his wrist before the crime can unfold, twisting his teammate's arm to press him down against the table.

The uproar around them indicates this sort of reaction is not only appropriate, in their hockey-numbed brains, but admirable. Because boys will be boys, I guess.

Personally, I just like how it throws the muscles in Eli's arms into delectable relief past the short sleeves of his t-shirt. Especially that one hard line of his triceps. I would be lying if I said my brain didn't take me to some really interesting places, thinking how else he could use those arms to pin people down over tables. Maybe against a wall. Or a window...

"...great president because he was smart and competent, not just because of the historical implications his election had on this country. He's more than just a symbol, he's a person who was great at his job, because he worked for it," Nat's voice tunes back in, eloquent and rational.

I mean, call me a jerk, but it's kind of a turn-off.

"Exactly! Thank you." Gus's arms wave frantically in my peripheral vision as I watch Eli let go of his teammate, before they both share a bro hand-bump moment and sit back down.

"But he is a symbol," Mack insists. Over her head, I watch Eli adjust the beanie on his head, tucking a few strands of caramel-brown hair in and pulling a few others out. "Pointing it out is important too. The only people who have a problem with highlighting representation are the ones who've never been under-represented."

"Excuse me," Gus shrieks, and that brings me out of my sweet trance for just a second. I shoot him a sideways glance, past Chloe, to see him take a dramatic hand to his chest. "You think I've never been under-represented?"

"Oh, please." Mack rolls her eyes. "The media is bursting at the seams with representation of white queer men these days."

"I beg to differ."

"Beg all you want, it's still true."

I zero in on the hockey table again, watching the wonder trio — Owen Holmes and his ever-loyal sidekicks — engage in their usual quiet lunchtime conversation. The edges of Eli's lips twitch upward when Dean Miller seems to use his fork as a miniature stick and a tater tot as a makeshift puck to demonstrate... something hockey-ish.

"You're lecturing my gay ass on oppressed minorities?" Gus raises his voice. "Have you forgotten you're white, rich and cis?"

That brings me into the conversation mentally for just a second. Because Gus is also white, rich and cis. And I'm sure that's what Mack would've shot back at him, if Natalie hadn't spoken instead.

"There's no measure for oppression," she starts calmly. "I think you're deviating from the point."

Her tone is so reasonable and sobering that I can't help lose interest again.

Until I hear Chloe mutter under her breath to my right, "And here I was wondering if they even had a point to begin with."

Gus jumps at the opportunity to recap. "I said it's totally unfair that people refer to minorities in positions of power as just the thing that makes them a minority. Like, doesn't it suck to hear people refer to women in power as women in power, when men are just in power?"

"No, because men in power is the norm. That's why it's important to remember your misogynistic asses that we're taking over now," Mack throws in.

"My what?" Gus gasps.

"I don't think anyone is taking over anything. There's no need to kick anyone out to make space for others," Natalie says.

"Uhm, yeah, there is," Mack retorts. "Those five-hundred and forty-one seats in Congress will not multiply to let people of color, women and LGBT people in. Someone's gotta go, and it's white men."

"She's not wrong about the seat thing," Chloe muses.

"What do you think, Moneybags?"

It takes me a second to realize that's me. My insight has been requested. Yay.

Mack stares back at me, the heel of her foot pressing onto the seat of the chair next to her, her elbow propped up on her knee. Natalie and Gus turn their eyes on me as well, while Chloe keeps hers on the Biology homework she's trying to finish in time for her next class.

"I agree with Chloe," I say.

Through the corner of my eye, I can see a little smile tug at Chloe's lips.

Mack kicks the leg of my chair under the table. "Chloe hasn't actually given a full opinion yet," she says.

I grin. "Then... I agree with Chloe."

"He doesn't have to care about representation, because his people have always been well represented," Gus says matter-of-factly.

And, I mean, the nerve. But, also, I can't spot the lie.

"My people?" I ask nonetheless.

Gus smiles. "Attractive assholes."

Mack snorts. "True."

I can see Chloe shake her head. She looks up at us for a brief second, before focusing her attention back on her notes. Then she seems to change her mind and drops the pen sitting up completely.

"You realize the fact you get to just sit here at lunch casually discussing matters of privilege and representation in politics is, on its own, a huge sign of your collective privilege, right? Like, the fact that abstract things like this are at the top of your immediate worry list..."

Silence settles after she trails off.

It's not something that's too present in our minds on a day-to-day basis, but Chloe is the only one out of the five of us that doesn't live in Lake City. Her parents are not action holders of the Astor Investments Group, or big business owners like Gus's, or real estate giants like Mack's.

Chloe's dad is an IT worker and her mom is a nursing aide. They live in east Brunson, in a two-bedroom house not too far from the Ice Arenas and the school, where she shares the room with her twin brother. She puts more time into caring for her skating equipment than anybody else I know closely, because she doesn't have the money to replace it as easily. She works summer jobs at the resort to help out with school and skating expenses, and she lets my family pay for the private coach we both use because she could never afford half of it herself.

Usually, I don't think about the financial gap between us all that often, and I know Mack, Gus and Natalie don't either. Chloe has always been an unequivocal piece of our whole, and money has never even been a factor in our heads when thinking about her.

It's in moments like this, however, when she says things like that, so simply and plainly, that make me wonder if it's not different for her. If she doesn't think about it more often than we do. If that gap that we don't even see most of the time doesn't look a whole lot wider when you're looking up from bellow.

Mack snaps her fingers in front of my face and I notice they're all gathering their things to leave.

I follow them out of the cafeteria, and the group splits in the usual fragments. When Mack and I walk into our Trig class, Eli Blake and the other hockey guys are already in their usual front corner.

My eyes meet Eli's accidentally on purpose, after a deliberate long period of staring, and I try to hold his gaze for as long as I can. It's all a matter of willing the charm into my look.

He doesn't cooperate though, and looks away far too soon.

After school, Mack drives us all to the Ice Arenas. James Lowell's car comes close behind us, with Chloe's brother Connor and three other hockey players inside. When we park, Eli Blake, Owen Holmes and Dean Miller are already leaving a giant, dark-gray RAM truck. The dark-haired left winger whose name I still don't know jumps out from the driver seat, just as James parks on the other side of Mack's Audi.

"'Sup, Pruitt?" Unnamed left-winger calls out, pulling his hockey bag from inside the car before shutting the door.

"Not my motivation," she delivers flatly.

I smile at her. Like most of us on that rink, Mack started out pretty young. Unlike us, though, the ice's allure wore off with time for her and the fun she used to have as a kid didn't grow into career aspirations as she became older. Usually, when that happens to a skater, they either quit and devote their time and effort to other activities, or they keep it up as a hobby.

Mack fits into the latter. Probably because all her closest friends skate. And because she doesn't need to devote her time exploring other potential career aspirations. None of us do. Except for Chloe.

"You guys have been starting this season pretty strong," Natalie says conversationally, as James and Connor walk up to stand next to — ooh, wait, I think I got it, it's something douche-y, like Tanner, or Trent... Thad maybe?

"Hard work and lots of practice is the only sure way to win the season," Owen Holmes, ever the laid-back delight, speaks from the edge of the group, halfway between us and the door to the Arenas, as though pressuring his teammates to hurry inside.

Dean and Eli stand at his side. Eli's eyes are cast down toward the floor, where they fell to as soon as Natalie spoke. Almost as though avoiding her became an inevitable, necessary reflex since their break-up. Which it kind of did.

"I'm exhausted just hearing you talk, Holmes," Mack retorts, making Gus snicker.

Insipid little James grasps at his hockey bag's strap nervously, eyes shifting towards Chloe shyly. "Are you planning to win Regionals this year?" He asks her quietly.

No, I think to myself. Our main goal is placing last. Everyone goes for the win, it's sucking convincingly that's really hard.

Chloe's reply is slightly more conventionally nice, and it shows in the smile she takes the effort to give him. "Hopefully we'll get to Nationals this year and start our Olympic plan."

James's wishy-washy blue eyes widen slightly. "Wow." He scratches the back of his pale blonde head. "That's ambitious."

I decide then I've been nice for too long and drape an arm over Chloe's shoulders. "Ambition is only natural when you're as good as we are." I flash him a confident grin.

Chloe doesn't give away any reaction at all, withholding that satisfaction from me. But James's lips part dumbly, eyes dancing between my face and the comfortable touch I have in the obvious object of his unrequited crush. Which may or may not be as unrequited as I'd hope.

Someone whistles from the Arenas entryway.

"Come on. Coach won't wait for your lazy asses to quit chit-chatting," Owen calls out, holding onto the handle bar. Eli and Dean stand behind him, already inside the Arenas.

James, Connor, Trent — I've decided to go with Trent, even though I'm not a hundred-percent confident that's actually his name — and the other guys who had been chatting up with Natalie and Mack, while Gus stood awkwardly to the back, turn their heads to their team captain and start walking away.

James hangs behind for an extra second, to shoot Chloe an awkward parting wave. "Bye," he mutters with a flimsy smile.

Chloe's face remains a shield of cool composure as she replies, "Bye."

Her brother Connor waits for his friend a few steps ahead, sending Chloe a quick noncommittal glance over his shoulder before going into the Arenas. The Wongs really love their looks of tacit disapproval.

As soon as they're all gone, a bit-back sneer is enough for Chloe to know what's coming. She rolls her eyes in silence, but it doesn't deter me. I lift my hand awkwardly to mock-mimic James's wave.

"Bye," I echo thinly, raising my voice a couple of octaves.

She slaps my hand away, a tad bit too hard if I'm allowed to say so.

"You're a dick."

"Why, thank you."

"You know Helga will have your balls and my throat if we're late," she says, starting towards the Arenas. I fall right into step with her. Mack, Natalie and Gus walk behind us.

"That woman scares me," Gus declares. "It's that soviet coldness."

"She's Swedish," Chloe and I say simultaneously.

"She definitely has a Russian accent, though," Mack points out. "It's always confused me."

Gus nods. "Slavic accents all sound the same."

"I think Swedish is actually a North Germanic language," Nat corrects.

I raise my eyebrows, but she doesn't see it. I honestly don't know where she learns all these things. Surely, not from the same bittered-by-life teachers who tell my parents I could 'do so much better', if only I 'just put the effort into it'. It also begs the question of why she would want know this, because I can't imagine a single context outside this conversation when that knowledge would be useful.

To be honest, I'm not too sure how most of the stuff we're taught at school will ever pose the slightest use to me. My life goal is to be an Olympic medalist. I doubt at any point of my professional journey a panel of judges will ask me to describe the three branches of the US Government. Or tell them how much change they'll get after buying fifty-three watermelons, at thirty-five cents a pound.

When I shared these sentiments with my dearest father, he simply stared at me as though waiting for a satisfying punchline. When I shared them with my mother, she whacked me across the back of the head and told me that she and my grandmother might have been denied citizenship for not knowing the things I made fun of.

And I guess even I have to admit it was a bit of a dick move from me to mention it to her.

***

I know it might seem slow so far, but we're getting there. Even though my books are about the romance, if you read Heart and Soul, you know I love writing about friendship and family too, so I need to develop these side characters as well. So, this might have felt like a filler, but there was a lot of plot set-up happening.

That said... What do you think so far about Chloe, Mack, Nat and Gus? Do you enjoy them as characters? Would you be friends with them in real life? ;)

In the next chapter, you can expect something more about Eli's friends, as well as some more Eli and Liam one-on-one scenes, and some seeds of drama — that may or may not bloom — being planted :)

I'm also hoping to be done with the final chapters this week, and after that I should update daily!

If you liked this one, please consider voting and commenting! Thanks for reading!!