"Wasn't that test easy?" Marcus asked as we left Chemistry. We had just taken the longest test that I've ever taken in my life. A hundred questions—ridiculous.

    "Very long," I clutched my textbook to my chest. "But I guess it was easy."

    Like Marcus had said Mr. Cooper had thrown in a lot of random questions. One of my favorites was "What's your favorite class?" But instead of putting four different answers he put chemistry for A, B, C, and D.

    "See I told you, you had nothing to worry about," Marcus said. We stopped in front of the office.

    Leaning against the wall I said, "I know but I'm still scared that I'll fail."

    "Why?"

    "I don't know." I shook my head. I was sure I got most of the questions right. I studied all night, and I had even enlisted my grandmothers help. "Maybe I'm just overthinking it."

    Marcus agreed. "I think you are. I have a better chance at failing than you do."

    I laughed. "Yeah, right."

    He shrugged. "Apparently, you're E.J's girlfriend now?"

    "Oh, I am?" I'm not surprised by this, he thinks I'm his friend and I'm a girl, so automatically I'm his girlfriend. "When did that happen?"

    "Shortly after you left on Saturday, and after he tried to beat me up."

    "He tried to beat you up?" I asked shocked. "Are you kidding?"

    "Yes! Obviously, he attacked me," he exaggerated. "And my mom and Rosa did nothing about it. They recorded it."

    "Could you send it to me?"

    "It's humiliating."

    "Please, I want to see it," I pleaded. "You have to or I'll just get E.J to beat you up again."

    "And how are you going to do that?" He smiled.

    "I'm his girlfriend, remember?"

    He rolled his eyes, with a sigh. "I'll think about sending it to you."

    I grinned. "Thank you."

    He ran a hand through his hair. "I was wondering if you wanted to--." Marcus was unable to finish what he was saying, because Marge, or Dean Nelson, came out of the office.

    "Nia, I thought that was you," she said coming up to us. She wore one of her many power suits, this one was red. "Do you have a moment?"

    I looked back at Marcus. "It's fine I'll just tell you later. I should be getting to class anyway," he said.

    "Oh, okay." I turned back to Marge. "Yeah, I have some time." I would rather be spending it talking to Marcus, but how can I say no to the Dean of the most prestigious school in the state.

    "It will just take a second," she promised. I left Marcus outside, and followed Marge into the office. We filed past the receptionist who was still wearing that god awful floral print. She didn't even acknowledge us when we walked in she was too focused on her keyboard.

    I took a seat in front of Marge's desk. Sitting behind her desk, Marge said, "I just wanted to see how your first week at East Chapel has been. Is everyone treating you well?"

    "Everything's been great," I told her. "Every one has been very nice to me." Hesitant. But nice.

    "I saw that you and Mr. Garrett have become friends. He's one of our best students." One of your best looking students too.

    "Yes, he's my lab partner."

    "I spoke to a few of your teachers, and they all have great things to say about you. Even Coach Hobbs, and that's a tough man to sell," she giggled. A wistful look came over her face  as she sighed. "Anyway do you have any questions for me while I'm here?"

    I guess now's a good time to tell her about how I'm struggling in trigonometry. My grandma always told me closed mouths don't get fed. But in my case if I don't say anything I might fail trig. "Actually, I've been struggling in Trigonometry. Is there any other math class I could possibly take?"

    I thought that if I studied for twice as long, that would be enough. But I just can't seem to grasp the material. I might as well be reading a foreign language.

    "Unfortunately, no." she said regretfully. "Trigonometry is required for all juniors, but we can get you a tutor."

    I nodded. That doesn't sound too bad. "I'm okay with that."

    "I know the perfect person!" She looked behind me. "Sam! Can you come in here please?"

    I turned around in my seat to see Sam standing outside of Marge's office door. His nose was red, and he wore a stunned expression on his face. There was something balled up in his hand. It looked like a tissue but there were red spots on it. Is that blood?

"Yes, Dean Nelson," Sam said stepping inside the office.

"Nia was inquiring about a trigonometry tutor, and I thought you be the perfect person to do it." Marge asked, "Do you have enough time in your schedule for another tutoring session?"

"Yes!" He answered quickly. "I mean, yeah, I have plenty of space available."

"Great," Marge smiled standing from her desk. "Now that that's settled, I have to get going. I have to go check in at the elementary school. Do you have any more concerns, Nia?"

"Nope," I replied. "I don't have any more questions or concerns."

"Mrs. Walker will give the both of you late passes to class. Don't be afraid to stop by my office any time, Nia."

    She waved goodbye before she left her office her blonde hair swinging against her back. After Mrs. Walker gave Sam and I our late passes we began walking to class.

    "Thank you for agreeing to tutor me," I said as we walked down the empty hallway. "I don't understand anything that's going on in class."

    "I understand, it's a tough subject," he said. "I'd be happy to help you. I have tutoring sessions before and after school. Which one is best for you?"

    "Before would be better. I have work after school."

    "That's fine with me."

    "What were you in the office for?" I asked.

    "Oh, uh, I had to go the nurse."

    "Are you okay?" I asked concerned. "Were you sick?"

    "No, I'm not sick or anything," he assured me. He explained, "I get chronic nose bleeds."

    That explains the red speckled tissue. "Is it serious?" I don't know if you can die from a nosebleed.

    He shook his head. "It's not a big deal, a bit inconvenient, but nothing I can't handle." We stopped in front of the gym, I could see Lavender sitting in her usual spot on the bleachers, but it didn't look like anyone else was doing anything either.

    "It looks like you guys are having a free day," said Sam. "When Coach doesn't want to do anything, he'll call a free day. We had a lot when I had him last semester."

    "I should go in. I'm already late," I said. "But I'll see you tomorrow morning."

    "I'll be here," he replied. "Don't forget your trig textbook."

    "Wouldn't dream of it."

    I sat next to Lavender on the bleachers. She ate from a bag of sour gummy worms.

    "Hey, I was wondering where you were," she said popping another colorful candy in her mouth. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail today.

    "I got pulled into Dean Nelson's office," I told her, placing my backpack in between the bleachers.

    She gasped jokingly. "Have you gotten in trouble...already?"

    "No, she just wanted to see how I'm fairing at East Chapel Academy."

    "What did you tell her?"

    "That everyone sucks." Shaking my head, I laughed. "I'm just kidding. I told her that everyone has been nice to me."

    "Especially, Marcus," she shimmied her shoulders. "He's been real nice."

    I pushed her. She laughed hysterically, toppling over.

    Lavender righted herself. "I'm just saying," she sang. "I mean not as nice as me of course."

    "I beg to differ." She rolled her eyes. I smiled, snagging her bag of candy. 

****

    "Are you going to eat that?" Lavender asked stealing a fry from my tray. Her tray was already full of food, but she was still stealing from mine.

    "How can you eat so much?" She's so small, but she can put so much away.

    "Years of eating tofu and leaves has made my stomach stronger than most," she explained eating more. I drank from my water bottle. If I had to drink any more of her parents' green smoothies I would stuff my face with fries too.

    "Hey, Nia." Thomas looked down at our table. He had his shirt buttoned and tie done correctly for once.

    "Hi, Thomas. I didn't even notice you standing there." Lavender had been showing me a new pair of boots she was thinking about buying. The price alone was enough to give me a stomach ache. "What's up?"

    "I wanted to be the first to give you this." He pulled a newspaper from behind his back and handed it to me.

    I flipped it open to the page I knew I would be on. Thomas had let me sneak a peek of the layout last week. And there it was on the last page of the East Chapel Gazette. Sam, Nick, and Marcus smiled up at me from the sports section of the East Chapel Gazette. My article on the football teams practice ritual laid underneath. Not the material I would prefer to write, but everyone's got to start somewhere.

    "Thanks, Thomas," I smiled.

    "Is that your article?" Lavender dropped her chicken tender, holding her hand out for the paper. "Let me see."

    "Wipe your hands first," I said holding the paper away from her greasy hands. "My grandma's going to want to frame this."

    She rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on a napkin. "There," she tossed the napkin back on her tray. "Now let me see."

    "I have good news," said Thomas.

    I turned back to Thomas. "Oh, yeah, what is it."

    "You don't have to cover sports this week. There's a school wide art show, and you get to write an article on it."

    "No way," I said in disbelief. "That's awesome." Now art I understand. Or I try to at least.

    "You still have to take your own photos, our photo guy's going to be out longer than expected."

    "That's fine. I don't mind." I'm just glad I don't have to cover sports again. As much as I love watching Marcus work out, having to do research on the game is not something I like to do in my free time.

    "Okay, I'll see you in class then," he said.    

    "Thanks again for the copy of the newspaper. I had completely forgot that the new issue came out today."

    "You're welcome," he smiled. "See you later."

    Lavender looked at me over my copy of the newspaper. "Are you a sorceress or something?" She asked when Thomas was gone.

    I laughed. "No, of course, not. Why?"

    "How do you get so many guys to like you?"

    "What are you talking about, Lavender?"

    "Marcus and Thomas for sure. And not mention all the guys that stare at you in the hallway."

    "Well, Thomas doesn't like me in that way," I told her. "And everyone stares at me in the hallway, not just boys." It's annoying as hell, but I figure if I give it a few more weeks, they'll stop. "They stare at me, because I'm new not because they like me."

    "Mm, no. They stare at you because you're pretty." She said setting down the newspaper.

    "You're being dramatic."

    "Am I?" She questioned.

    "Yes," I stated. "What about you, Lavender? Are you dating anyone?" She hadn't told me about anyone, and there were no photos of anyone in her room.

    "Nope," she answered sipping her drink.

    "What do you look for in a guy?" I asked. "I mean if you like boys, because it's cool if you don't."

    She raised her eyebrows at me. "Are you asking me if I'm gay, Nia?"

    I shrugged. I wasn't...well, not directly.

    "I'm not gay, and I'm not sure what my type is." She rested her chin in her hands. "Someone mature maybe, and with tattoos. And maybe facial hair."

    "It sounds like you know what your type is to me."

    "Oh, they have to be funny," she added. "And they cannot be vegan."

    "What about vegetarian?"

    "I guess that's fine, but that's where I draw the line. I can't handle more than two vegans in my life."
****

    Mr. Hobbs wasted no time sending me to the art wing when I got to class. He handed me the camera, and all but pushed me out the door.

    I walked through the art classroom taking some photos of the finished art work. These East Chapel kids are seriously talented. The room was relatively empty, some of the artists were setting up for the gallery in another building.

    As I steered away from the paintings I heard music coming from the corner of the room. Curious, I stepped closer to the noise. The girl had her back turned to me, and her music was loud enough so she couldn't hear me. I could only see part of the portrait she was working on.

     Clearing my throat, I said, "Hi, do you mind if I take a few pictures for the school newspaper?" It was only then that the girl turned around. "Oh, hi, Stacy."

    She turned her music down. "Hey. I'm sorry I didn't hear you come up."

    "I didn't recognize you," I said moving to stand in front of her. "You dyed your hair." Her hair was now a deep brown, but only a week ago it was blonde.

    "Yeah, Whitney thought it would look better this way," she said twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "For prom, you know."

    "I think it looks nice both ways," I smiled.

    "Thanks." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You asked about my painting?"

    "Yes! I wanted to get a picture for the school paper." I looked at the image on the canvas, it was a portrait of two women, one with short blonde hair, and the other with long black hair. "If you don't mind."

    "That's fine. Go ahead," she encouraged me. I moved next to her.

    "Who are they?" I asked snapping a few photos.

    "Who?" asked Stacy.

    "The women. Who are they?"

    "Oh," she laughed. "These are my moms."

    I didn't expect that. "So you're adopted?"

    "No, my mom, Regina, was artificially inseminated," she explained. "She's the one with the dark hair."

    "She's beautiful. They both are," I complimented them. "Will this be in the art show?"

    She nodded, "Yes, it'll be my first one.

    "No way!" That's surprising her work is so beautiful. Everything was so detailed, it almost didn't look like a painting. I can't imagine how long it takes her. "You're amazing."

    Stacy blushed. "Thank you. My moms are artists too,so it comes with the territory. But they don't paint as much as they do sculptures and large scale stuff."

    "Well, you're great at it." My art skills stop at stick figures and the occasional doodle. I put my camera down. "I should let you get back to painting, I know you don't have much time."

    "No," she stopped me.
     "You should stay, I don't get many visitors. Whitney doesn't like how messy and things are, and Crystal's too afraid of getting paint on her clothes. It would just be nice to have someone to talk to."

    "Okay, yeah, I can stay for few minutes."

    Her face visibly brightened. "Pick a stool, but be careful some of them might have wet paint on them."

    I was going to pick up a stool, but then I notice the of red paint in the center of the seat. "Thanks for the warning."