"It's really not a big deal. I promise."

Her mouth is saying the words, but her eyes are lying. I can tell. I can always tell, because I've gotten so used to it over the years. It's not like I do it on purpose; well, sometimes I do because I'm angry, but usually it's an accident.

"Still," I say, reaching up to scratch the back of my head. My fingers disappear under my hair and I clench them together, lighting rapping myself. I wish I could hit myself harder, but she'd notice if I winced. She always does.

"I should get going," she was saying. Her large eyes blink twice, an unconscious signal that she is still upset. I feel myself nodding and watch as she turns on her heel and retreats down the hallway, the usual spring in her step conspicuously absent.

I am great at screwing things up, that was nothing new. All I'd wanted to do was show her a different way to hold her hand at an angle while attacking cards on the opposite side of the playing field. It was something I'd picked up while studying previous Queen matches. I thought she could use the help, and that's all I said—it wasn't as though I insulted her or anything, but no, that's how she took it, and looked like she was going to cry.

I know I should leave the hallway, standing there like an idiot outside the practice room door, but my legs suddenly feel weak. I know I screwed up, but I hate apologizing.

"Is everything okay?"

Kana is standing to my right, her arms full of books. I manage to nod, not wanting to get into it. "Yeah, I'm fine," I casually lie.

"Don't you usually walk to the classroom for lunch with Chihaya?" she asks, her voice rising just slightly. I nod curtly, and feel a rush of blood in my cheeks.

"She went on ahead. I had … something to do."

"I see." She knows I'm lying. Am I always this transparent? "Well, I guess I'll see you guys there, right?" She nods without waiting for me to answer and walks away, trying to readjust the books in her arms. I watch a small group of male students leer after her and glare at them. They catch my look and scatter like leaves, leaving me shaking my head.

I need to apologize, no matter how much I hate doing so. I start walking, keeping my head down, and brush past a few groups of first-year female students. I hear tittering behind me but opt to just walk faster. I hate all the attention I tend to get from the younger girls. Porky always gives me crap for it, but I'm sure he knows I don't really care. It's not like I have eyes for anyone else but her. It's obvious to everyone but her, I think.

I approach the classroom and stand in the doorway, so I can see inside at an angle. She is sitting at her desk, mine pushed up next to it, two lunches sitting on top side by side, but no one else is there yet. I take a deep breath and put my left foot in front of my right foot, then the opposite, until I am standing at the joined desks.

She doesn't notice me for nearly a full minute, obviously concentrating on her textbook open in front of her. She blinks and is now looking up at me, and her eyes are full of tears.

"What's wrong?" I hear myself ask, and suddenly I am sitting next to her, my legs folded under the small wooden tray. I hate these desks; they're too small for someone my height.

"I don't understand any of this," she whines, and I see that the book is open to today's English lesson. I hear myself laugh before I can stop myself, and she is beginning to get angry at me. I need to course-correct before I get myself in more trouble.

"Desktomu will help you," I promise. "Hey, about earlier—"

She shakes her head like usual, cutting me off. "Don't worry about it. I get it. I need to practice more."

"No, that's not—"

"I know I should listen to you, because you're better than me—you always have been, it's fine, I understand."

"No I'm not—"

"I just get lost in my head sometimes," she continues, smiling. "I'll work on it."

"Chihaya!"

Suddenly she's quiet and looking at me with a frown. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

I think time has stopped; it must be the only explanation for why she's staring at me, eyes wide open, and my heart is beating crazily, and my mouth is dry.

"Really?"

"Really." She knows I don't apologize easily. She knows, and is enjoying this. I would think she is playing me, but I know she really was upset. She's not like other girls. Not by a long shot.

"Then … it's not a big deal."

And this time I know she isn't lying. I see it in her eyes.