Exotic

~ celebration of life ~

There was no better way of putting it; Tuesday fucking sucked.

Aaron was being very careful with me, and Max gave me a (not entirely unwanted) hug that morning, but they were the only two people in the school who knew. The rest of the day consisted of vacant staring and very little work getting done. Miss Riley tried to reel me into a conversation about progress, but I stonewalled her until she dismissed me.

I sat in the library at five past three, my knee bouncing as I waited for my Tranquillity tutor. Whoever she was, she seemed to be making a point. Miss Riley had told me they got off at two-thirty, so her tardiness seemed like a purposeful dig. Like I wasn't worth being on time for.

I checked Sephora's Instagram. My gallery was slowly filling with images, drawings, and photographs, and my follower count was slowly rising. I kept a close eye on each person I accepted, making sure they had no links back to Truman or Miles. Even the very complimentary comments couldn't lift my mood.

A satchel dropped onto the table next to me like a lead weight, and a body dropped down into the chair adjacent to me.

"Right. You look the twitchiest in this building, so I'm assuming you're Miles?"

I looked up in surprise, instantly recognising the deadpan tone.

Lauren Proust, in a navy blazer and sensible ponytail, quirked an eyebrow at me. "Hey. I know you."

I let my eyes drift closed. A bubble of laughter popped in the back of my throat. Lauren leaned back, visibly perturbed as I kneeled over and cackled.

It fucking figured. I had joked about not being able to go a week without bumping into a Proust. If it had been any other day, and I had been in any other mental state, I would have just walked out. But the irony was pretty hysterical.

Lauren glanced around the library, visibly embarrassed for the both of us. "Did you swallow another fly or something? Breath."

I clapped a hand over my mouth, nodding quickly. "Sorry. I just remembered something really funny."

Her expression wouldn't have been out of place on the sane side of the glass in a mental asylum. "Clearly. I remember you. You were friends with Jess's... friend. She was really upset over him for all of two hours."

"I'm glad she's moved on," I clapped my hand down on the desk. "Woah. Sorry. It's been a weird day. And I didn't expect to know who you were. Lauren, right? What are the chances?"

"Pretty slim. Since there are only three tutors on the roster willing to work in public schools," she flipped open her satchel. "Most girls drop out around midterms."

"Not you?"

"Nah. I'm not much of a studier," she dropped a textbook almost as tall as it was wide and flicked it open to the first page. "So, what is it about modern history that's not clicking with you? Is it boring? It's boring, isn't it."

Her bluntness reminded me of Max. I trusted it, despite my trepidation. Then again, at any moment she could have looked me in the eyes and realised that she recognised me from another interaction. I kept my voice level and my face angled away from hers. "I guess. I'm not that focused. I don't do great with..." I searched for Miss Riley's words. "Recall. And I don't study."

"Good. You're honest," she said resolutely. Her cheeks were wide and brushed with freckles; she was very pretty, slowly growing into her own skin. And she wasn't lacking in confidence. It reminded me of Jake. Despite his age, he hadn't been held back from doing the right thing by what his peers thought. Lauren, despite being fifteen at most, seemed to be well past caring what anyone thought of her; I envied her that. "Well, I can't teach you to focus. You're seeing the councillor for that, right?"