I found out Tyler and I have alot in common.

Well, okay, maybe that's a stride too far but we both stayed in New York before -which, alright, I knew already - and we both have Hispanic descents. Which, again, I knew. Years of stalking has it's benefits, yet I still acted surprised when he said it.

But there were things that were genuinely new to me, like while my native descent is from both parts, his is only maternal. He says his grandmother only speaks Spanish too, can't understand a thing in English. And that should cause friction between them but it doesn't. They communicate more with facial expressions and body language. Whenever he said something she couldn't understand, she'd smile. And when she said something he couldn't understand, he'd smile too. I wondered if the smile would be the same kind he showed off around me, or if he had the kind reserved for family alone, the people he really loved. But of course I didn't ask.

"Are you gonna keep standing there?"

It's Victoria Tywo, finally acknowledging my presence. I'd walked up to her table maybe a minute ago but she looked so busy reading from a note and writing in another, that I thought it was best to wait for her to ask what I wanted first. Or in this case, if I was just gonna keep standing.

"You could sit. You know." I follow her eyes to the empty desk in front of her, and when I sit, turn back around to meet her 'cause she's why I came. "Are you gonna just sit now?"

I laugh a little till I meet her unamused expression and restructure. "Sorry. Uh, yeah, I was thinking. The other day. Think two days ago when my sister came back- 'cause she's got a job now. She says It's this company near our home where she- Anyway. So, yeah, I talked to her about the one-sided arrangement of our project and she suggested I asked you if we could start over with it." I pause to understand her expression, then quickly add. "That's if it's okay with you, anyway, I know you must've gone far."

"Okay."

"Okay?" She nods. "Okay what?"

"We could start over."

"We could?" I move in my seat, but still try to devoid my face of any surprise. Of any surprise I truly feel. "We could start over. And you don't mind having a joint work this time." I keep everything coming out as a statement, though I know i'm hoping for an answer, a re-assurance.

"If it's okay with you, it is with me."

I laugh, amused. "Of course it's fine with me, that's why I asked in the first place." She does a half-hearted shrug and well, i'm guessing my time here is done. I do a tap beat on the table and show off a small smile. "Alright, then."

"So, where do we meet?" She asks as I'm about standing up so I sit back down. Funny enough I hadn't really thought this far. "The library?"

"The library?" I look to her, nearly laughing till I see she's serious. "Have you met the librarian?" She shows no pointed emotion so I take it she hasn't. Is she new? "Are you new?"

"We've shared classrooms since grade five." She replies simply. And with so little care that I'm thrown.
Shouldn't it weird her out that we've taken classes together for years yet I just asked if she's new?

I'm weirded out at how she seems to have known me my whole life. Though, maybe that's again, a stride too far. "The library isn't so bad a choice, there's an inner room for doing things like projects."

"I.. I think my house would be better. If you don't mind."

Mr Stephen walks in, late and disorganized as always having Victoria and I distracted for a second. We share a look before she goes back to reading and writing. Dropping numerous copies of papers on his desk, not really caring that we've all stopped what we were doing to stare at him, he starts pointing between the door and his desk thoughtfully. And it makes sense when he excuses himself. "I'll go get the red stack from outside."

If there's one thing of Amy's I wish I had, it'd be the ability to stare at people even when they clearly look uncomfortable about it. Atleast then I would be staring back at her without flinching away every two seconds.

I'm guessing it could be about what Sam said earlier, but she's smiling. Kinda. And it's a long time ago too, when Samantha came in making a remark on how better it was to wear pants in the stead of a skirt, then tried to spite Amy with the fact that I'd dumped her for a better project partner. I made it clear that it wasn't voluntary, yet Sam still joked about it, Amy rolled her eyes.

But T and Margo came in later, chattering on how they'd seen Senator Williams and his wife, Pamela's parents, on tv last night. Others claimed they'd seen them too and I was going to join in, tell Pamela her I thought her mom looked really pretty with shorter hair, but I saw her disposition. Her smile was tight and she clearly looked uncomfortable so I let it go, returned to my food.

It was a few topics after - because the girls on this table find it abominable to sit in peace and quiet - that I noticed my Pamela's static gaze on Steph. An oblivious Steph who kept talking on how getting a pet pig wouldn't be so bad of an idea, that Ariana seemed to be fine with it. I'd brushed my hand against hers to get her attention and I got it. She smiled then looked for something else besides Steph to look at. But it wasn't for too long. I didn't bother stopping her again. Instead, I looked away. And that was when I found Amy's eyes on me from across the table, but she was smiling. Still is.

I once again flinch after two seconds and look away.

"So, Melissa."

The chattering from everyone on the table stops momentarily even when it's not their name being called. Sparing my best friend a confused look first, I look to her, who's got her elbows on the table , hands clasped together to support her smiling face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I was wondering how you felt. How you were coping."

"Coping?" I squint my eyes at her, then look round the bustling cafeteria when she takes her gaze off me and begins eating the salad off her plate. "How I felt about what?"

"About having a stepmother."

I'm confused but I feel the fork go heavy in my hand. And it makes a loud clang when it hits the plate.

"I know it'd be something to get used to."

From the side I feel Pamela's eyes on me till they shift to Amy. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh no, it's just Queen D came over the other day, said something like it, and I was sorta bothered how Melissa was taking it."

If I knew less, I'd actually think she's bothered. That her soft eyes are actually soft.

Soledad.

This is all 'cause of her and her rash assumptions and loud mouth. It's so annoying when she-

But everyone's quiet.

All their little gossips have ended, plus no one seems surprised. Rather they appear remote and robotic, eating like they're forced to eat. And unnaturally quiet.

No one's asking why I'd need a stepmother, there's no question from them if my parents are divorced, or a more tragic situation. I don't have to explain why there'd be any need for a stepmother or space for one because they know. They already know. But what exactly do they know? And how do they know It? I've never spoken about my family dynamics before.

"Amy, just cut it." Pamela says to Amy, yet her eyes are on me from the side. Caring, but waiting. Waiting like everyone else for me to tell a story they might or might not already know. Or perhaps it's to hear my version of it.

"So, have y'all heard this talk about pineapple on pizza?" Steph butts in to resolve the situation.

Regardless, some sort of anger remains with me the rest of the day. From class to class, MJR room back to class, using the bathroom then another class. Yet I don't even know what I'm angry at. Or who. Amy? For asking the question? Maybe. Danielle-Soledad for being bestfriend's with a Gardner family member and the type of bestfriend that tells the other bestfriend everything including random assumptions? Could be.

Life and whoever created It? Fate? Pamela for acting different during English class rather than talking extensively on matters that don't relate to any topics in English? Staying quiet all through to give me what, time? Space? Do they think I'm sensitive to the topic? To what topic?

What do they even know?

"Hey."

I roll my eyes,  jam the locker shut and turn around, but I must have a glare on because Victoria's eyes for the first time widen. "Woah."

"Sorry. Hi. Um," I open my locker again but stand sideways so my eyes stay on her. "can I help you?"

She stares at me confused from behind her glasses, then shrugs. "Was wondering if the project thing is still on."

"Oh." I nod, despite having no idea what she's talking about. "What project?"

She doesn't answer immediately. And i'm glad she doesn't 'cause just when she parts her lips to respond is when it clicks. "Oh yeah! The project. It's on, it is, sorry."

I quickly start getting a few books from my locker just as the bell for closing goes off. "It is. So, I usually go with my bestfriend. Pamela. She's got a car and I don't." Sparing her a look over my shoulder to clarify, "I think it's better we go to my house together and I don't have to give you descriptions to get there, you know?" Going back to getting books out and returning some in, "She doesn't have practice today so we'll be leaving in-"

"Can we... not."

I first turn to look at her, then when i'm done arranging the books in, jam the locker shut. "Not what?"

"Not go with your bestfriend."

"Not go with Pamela?"

"Yeah." She says, a group of students who look like freshmen run her way so she moves closer to me to avoid getting hit. " I think it'd be best we found a separate means if I've gotta come."

"Oh. Oh, okay. I get it." I pull my phone out of my breast pocket and begin going through my contacts. "Pamela's usually nice when you get to meet her, but I get it. I'll just call a driver I know, and he'll pick us up."

She nods, dips her hands into the wide pockets of her blazer, her bag already strapped on like mine. I've not known her for long but from the little I do, I get it why someone like her wouldn't want to be in a closed confinement with someone new. Especially since I mentioned the name and it's Pamela. Even if Eastwood High's got another or many other people named Pamela, the most popular is the one she probably assumes it to be, the one it is. And everyone's got a staple Idea of what cheerleaders or queen bee are. Put them in some sort of box. Blonde hair, clear skin, blue eyes. Nasty attitude, arrogant, and impulsive. Pamela's got blonde hair but misses the blue eyes and attitude. Yeah, she could be impulsive and want things done her way but, who doesn't?

Just when I find the number I hear my name being called far away towards the exit. And it's just who I was thinking about.

She waves her hands in the air and points to the door. The distance is way to far to start yelling and I don't want to attract unnecessary attention so I begin walking up to her. During the walk I watch her eyes shift from me, past me then back to me.

"Aren't we leaving? I don't have practice today."

"Yeah I know. It's just.. you know that girl, Victoria Tywo? The one I got assigned to for the A.p project."

Her eyes again shift past me. "Uhuh. You found her?"

"I did. A few days ago, forgot to tell you."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, we're thinking of starting the project from scratch together, going over to my house to begin and, yeah. I thought it'd be good if she and I took a seperate vehicle. Just so she doesn't feel... I don't know." I place my hands on my waist, looking up at her awaiting an answer. Her eyes do the shifting thing again and i'm guessing this time she's looking at the petite black girl with glasses by my locker. "Pamela."

She turns to me, eyes already narrowed and sharp. And I already know she's taking it too far.

"Is it okay if we do?"

"Suit yourself."