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Mole

"What is a mole?" I ask, slightly irritated, as I watch Ezra quickly type type something on his phone. We've been sitting here, at the park, for thirty minutes and we haven't gotten anything done. Chemistry is a foreign language to this boy, I don't know why I'm wasting my time with him.

"According to google, a mole is a small, often slightly raised blemish on the skin made dark by a high concentration of melanin. Or
a small burrowing insectivorous mammal with dark velvety fur, a long muzzle, and very small eyes. Or a spy who achieves over a long period an important position within the security defenses of a country. But I have a feeling that that's not what you asked." Ezra nervously laughs, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

"No, Ezra it isn't" I shake my head "Can I ask you what the fuck we're you doing all semester? I mean you obviously don't know any of the things I'm trying to explain to you" I snap at him.

Ezra is smart, maybe not in chemistry, but he is smart. I know that for a fact. He's a math genius. He's a literature freak and crazy sportive. I mean the dude is a breathing computer... Or he used to be. We haven't talked for years. I wonder if he's still Shakespeare lover as myself.

Of course not. Who am I kidding? He's too cool to read cliché Shakespeare plays as Macbeth or Taming of the Shrew. I remember reading Taming of the Shrew with Ezra and laughing at how Petruchio uses his bird-taming skills to tame the shrew, Katherina.

Thinking back to those times makes my stomach churns.

Where did we go wrong? I think to myself.

You didn't go anywhere wrong, he did! So stop being stupid and focus on tutoring this idiot pass chemistry. I mentally slap myself.

Ezra speaks, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Well" he says "the class was easy at first but then it got harder and I didn't ask people for help because-"

"Because you had too much pride" I finish for him. I can't believe he would rather fail the class than ask for help. Was his pride that important to him? And what's the shame in asking for help? Everyone needs help at on point in life -some more than other- whether they like to admit it or not.

"Why?" I simply ask "is your pride that important to you? Too important that you almost lost your scholarship over it?"

"it's not what you think. It's not easy" he sighs and looks away from me.

"Then why don't you explain it to me Ezra? I wanna know why."

An uncomfortable silence, filled with tensions and unfamiliar emotions, sets in. I don't say anything to break the silence. I give him his time, still waiting for the answer. After about five minutes of gathering what I would only call courage - all the courage to tell me whatever it is that he was going to tell me - he finally speaks.

"it's not easy asking people for help, especially for me" he pauses, taking a deep breath, before continuing " all my friends care about is sex, drinking, and popularly - I somewhat care for those things too, but that's not the point. They're all idiots. I'm the only one with a functioning brain, so I can't ask them for help. I can't ask for others help either because, well" he trails off, a distant expression on his face "people won't look at me the same. People expect perfection when they see perfection."

Taking in what Ezra has just told me, I take deep breath and let my mind wonder if Ezra even liked being popular. I mean he was getting attention, girls, and a reputation. Thousands of girls knew his name, thousands of girls adored him, and thousands of girls would kill to touch him or be within a mile radius with him. He was the guy every boy wanted to be, the man every girl wanted to date and the Golden Boy, every parent wished to have.

He was lean and muscular. Tall enough to tower over just about any girl in school. Dark-brown eyes, like the sunset after a rainy day. Perfectly symmetrical face with sharp jawlines and high cheekbones. All traits that made the girls go crazy and boys envied him for that.

But that's not all. Ezra was an AP student, just like myself. He had amazing grades, disdaining chemistry, and he was the captain for three school sport teams: football, lacrosse, and soccer, all played in the fall. I never knew how he managed to be captain for all and still get good grades. He was smart and a great athlete. Simple as that.

All great stuff, but was it truly worth it?

Of course it was. He was going the university of his dreams, while living the life of Austen Ames fron A Cinderella Story.

Was it all worth losing himself though? Because the Ezra in front if me right now isn't the Ezra I grew up with. That Ezra joked a lot, loved a lot and cared a lot. He was full of life. And most importantly, he was true to himself and the people around him. But then again, people change.

Sighing slightly, I speak up and try to change the topic and ease the gloom that filled the air "well, I don't see the perfection you're talking about because 'imperfection' and 'flawed' is written all over your work. How did you even survive this long?" I shake my head.

I watch Ezra's lips curve up into a smile before he speaks "I've been asking myself the same question" he chuckled. And roll my eyes, hiding the smile that threatened to take over my lips.

"Gosh. Okay, look" I wave my hands to get him to focus on what I was going to say "Okay. A mole, in chemistry, is a quantity. Six point zero two times ten to the twenty third, to be exact. It's like a dozen, a well known, 12, except it's bigger. Way bigger. Since chemists can't see atoms, molecules, ions, or formula units with the naked eye and count them, they use mole to count how many atoms there are in an object by using it's molar mass." I begin to explain what mole means to Ezra. There is nothing hard about chemistry, especially about the moles unit. It's all math and Ezra's a math genius.

We spend the Sunday afternoon at the park, taking breaks from time to time, eating the delicious cookies Ezra's mom has baked. Turns out, Ms. Sherwood was thrilled when she found out that I was tutoring Ezra so she baked cookies for us.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet and full of mole problem solving.

Author's Note

Do you guys like Ezra? Who do you like better: Ezra or Jason, in terms of being a good friend to Lilith? And what do you think of Ezra and Lilith's damaged friendship?

I hope you liked this chapter, if you did, please vote and comment. I'll try to update soon.

xoxo-Leyla❤