Patience is a virtue, they've always said, and I knew that saying by heart, by mind, and I perfected it with years of practice. I was always extremely patient, if I may say so myself. I never got angry or upset quickly and that's got to count for something, considering that it's quite a challenging feat to keep up composure and levelheadedness when you're teaching Physics II to somebody who didn't even know what the formula of speed was.

It was the first day of the week, a Monday afternoon, and here I was, stuck in the library with John Hardy, a fellow senior of mine and a football player. I didn't know what his position was in football but since Justin Walker was the famous quarterback, I'm guessing he's not the quarterback.

He acted as if he was though, constantly flirting with everyone and anyone with a pair of breasts (Pray as I might, I was not an exception to this one), and walking down the main hallways like he owned the school.

…What was a quarterback, in the very first place?

I mean, I certainly wouldn't know, since I didn't speak football, but it sounds like a really important position in the game. Also, since when did being a football player give you the right to act like a total douchebag? I'm sorry, I know I'm ranting already and even though I tried to hold out for as long as I could, I felt my patience wearing thin by every second that I spend with John. He was just so, so…

"Hey, Evans? You're still with me, right?"

Right. Still tutoring. I took in a calming deep breath and nodded at him, looking back down on my lecture notes. I didn't realize that I was spacing out already.

Focus, Raewyn, focus, I told myself, forcing cheerfulness with my inner voice.

I'm sure John wasn't that bad. "Sorry." I said offhandedly, blinking away the dark spots that appeared in my vision.

Wow, how long was I staring without batting an eyelash?

"Where were we? Oh, right. So as I was saying, the um, the speed is directly proportional to the distance and inversely proportional with…"

Maybe I was just exaggerating. Maybe it was the exhaustion of this day that finally caught up with me. I mean, we did have a quiz on History today—that was surely energy-draining—and then another hands-on activity in Chemistry and a lecture during—

"Wait."

I paused in my explanation and spared him a short glance before turning my attention back to my notebook. "Something wrong?"

John held up a finger and squinted his eyes as if he was in deep thought. "I don't get it." He said, his tone full of frustration. I looked up fast and blinked at him, taken aback. It wasn't the first time he told me that but the way he said it surprised me; he sounded genuinely upset about not understanding the lesson for once. Well, I guess this was what most people called progress. Finally, we came to this point.

I smiled at him a little and forgot my earlier annoyance. "Which part don't you get?" I asked softly, making sure he saw that I was determined to teach him just as much as he was determined to learn.

John leaned in without warning and I shrunk back immediately. His face was just inches away and even when I'm pretty sure I looked totally horrified at our proximity, he didn't seem bothered by my reaction.

"What I don't get", he began in a whisper and oh my god, was that strong smell of mint coming from his mouth?

"is that why you're…" John trailed off and scooted even closer.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Didn't personal space mean anything to anyone anymore? He was so close, I could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. Or maybe that was steam coming out of my face because if this wasn't mortifying, I don't know what is.

"…still not into me."

I blinked at him. Once. Twice…and another blink. "W-What?"

"You heard me, Evans." He sighed and leaned back on his chair, much to my relief. "I've been hitting on you ever since we first met, pulling out my best moves…are you not attracted to me at all?"

Remember what I said about him not being that bad and that perhaps, this was just me tired? Okay, no. This was not, in any way, exhaustion. This was pure, undeniable hatred. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly to ease my growing temper.

I thought about closing my eyes and counting to ten but I didn't think it'd be a good way to calm myself down, for two reasons mainly: One, counting wasn't as effective as other people had said and two, who knows what this jock was going to do while I had my eyes closed? Seriously, I'd rather not risk it.

"Look, John…" I said with a tired sigh and brushed back my hair. "It's not that I'm not attracted—I mean, yeah, obviously I'm not interested but it's not you." I bit my lip. This was sounding more and more like a bad break-up scene from a cheesy soap opera. "I'm just really…not into, um…" I paused in midsentence and gave him a lingering once-over.

John was your typical blonde guy with blue eyes and he gave off the whole 'boy-next-door' feel. He was athletic, obviously, and good-looking and tall and buff. He made sure to remind me of that last thing by flexing his biceps. The thing is, instead of finding him hot or attractive or cute, I found him…really cliché. Like I said earlier, he was typical. Blonde, handsome, jock…I don't want some high school fling that I'd forget later on in my life.

Besides, it didn't help that he needed tutoring on certain simple subjects and that he probably didn't understand what 'proportional' means. I like a smart guy, that's one thing for sure. Call me a geek or a nerd but nothing is more attractive than a person who is logical and sensible. Think about it.

On second thought, I wasn't anyone special; I was just another one of his 'targets'. Why was he taking this so seriously? I shook my head and met his eyes. "Why do you care anyway, if I'm into you or not?" I asked.

John dropped his gaze to the ground and shrugged. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like: 'I want you to like me.'

This was awkward.

A moment of silence passed between the two of us and suddenly, his phone buzzed. I deflated with relief. Saved by the ring tone. He took one look at his phone and grinned widely. "It's 4:00. Looks like we're done for today." I wonder if he interrupted our lesson intentionally. "I guess I have to go." I said and stood up, closing my notebook and placing it inside my bag.

John stood with me and threw his backpack over his shoulders. We walked out of the library and just when we were supposed to go our separate ways, I remembered something from the back of my mind. "Hey, John, can I ask you a favor?"

He faced me and smiled in a charming way that made me nervous. Please don't hit on me again.

"Anything." He said.

"Great. I was wondering if you could write something for the Writers Club's literary magazine?"

The grin he had fell apart. "Okay, sure." He answered slowly and nodded to the ground. "Can I ask why, though?"

"I'm helping Carson collect submissions." I explained shortly and added. "I kind of promised him I'd help him out. It would really mean a lot to me if you submitted one." John nodded again. He looked torn between being offended that I paid Carson more attention and looking amused at my choice of guy. Jerk.

"Alright." He said again and winked at me as he walked away. I tried not to make a sour face. "I'll see you around."

I waved half-heartedly. "Bye."

I bumped into Carson just as I was going to knock on the door of the journalism classroom. "Hey." He called out from behind me and I whirled back, facing him with an apologetic wince.

"Hi." I greeted with a nervous cough. "I hope I'm not late."

"You're…not." He told me, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. He sounded genuinely surprised. I reluctantly glanced away from his face and noticed the big box he carried in his arms. I cleared my throat and reached for the door knob. "We should go in. That looks heavy." He shook his head and I paused in the process of pushing the door open to send him a puzzled look.

"You're here." He whispered, blinking.

"…Yeah." I agreed, feeling a little confused. "I thought we had that established."

"You're here." Carson repeated in a blunt tone, his eyebrows knitting together as if me being there at that very moment was that hard to comprehend, as if I was some kind of illusion that would disappear any minute now right before him. I frowned self-consciously and gave him a tentative glance. Did I just imagine the conversation we had at the student parking lot last Friday?

"Um, I promised I'd help you out, right?" I prompted timidly, looking at him from the corner of my eyes. Carson gaped like a stunned fish with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. I bit my lip to prevent a smile from coming out. He looked pleasantly taken aback and knowing Carson, there probably weren't many chances of catching him off guard since he was always utilizing his quick wit.

"Carson?"

"I thought you were kidding." Carson blurted out, shaking his head and losing the dazed look in his gaze. "I didn't think you'd actually help me."

I frowned again. "But…Last Friday, I already told you that—"

He sighed and cut me off with a roll of his eyes. "I know what you said." He told me impatiently. "I was just…look, never mind, okay? Come on. Hurry up and open the door. My arms are falling off." Carson complained and the tension between us faded away. With a short chuckle, I pushed the door open and got in before Carson, holding it open for him.

"Oh. You have the wrong classroom."

Startled, I turned my head towards one of the tables inside and saw a girl sitting on a chair, organizing some scattered papers across the wooden table. She was a chubby blonde whose hair was kept in a clean ponytail and her shirt was peach. Glasses dangled on the bridge of her nose.

Before asking who she was, I stepped back to double check the sign on the door outside—I could swear that this was the journalism classroom—and bumped into Carson. You could only imagine how that turned out to be.

"Raewyn, what the hell?!" Carson shouted out in panic at the same time I yelped, flailing my arms about as I tried to regain my balance. The girl in peach stared at us in a mixture of shock and amusement. Thankfully, Carson braced a hand against the doorway and caught both of us just in time before we actually tumbled down.

Unfortunately, it resulted with me colliding against the box and I never thought that an edge of a box would hurt so much.

"What were you doing?" Carson demanded in annoyance as I rubbed my aching lower back.

I heard him huff. "Seriously."

"Sorry." I bit my lip to refrain from pouting like a child.

"Carson!" The glasses girl greeted in surprise as she stood up and approached us. Behind me, Carson grunted. "Hey, Mal. Malerie, meet Raewyn. She's my tutor. Raewyn, meet Malerie. She's my…my…well, she's the only willing member of the Writers Club. Let's leave it at that."

Malerie was an interesting girl. Unlike Carson, she was full of optimism and really eager, if not a little slow on picking up ideas. It's fine though; what she lacked in the brain department, she made up with her determination and crazy cheerfulness. "I'm so excited for Homecoming today." She told both of us after the short introduction we've had, a large smile lighting up her face. "Our float is going to be flawless."

Malerie gave off a victorious shout and punched the air with a fist. Carson grinned along with her and nodded. He must be in a good mood today. "Yeah, the crowd's going to love it." He agreed.

I sat back in the chair across Malerie's and smiled, content with watching the two of them interact. I've never seen Carson smile so much, let alone look so happy. I settled my face down on my arms and eyed the box of submissions Carson set down on the table.

The box looked so heavy and overflowing, the lid was practically just perched on top of the bulky papers and not sealing the box like it was supposed to. Carson took off the lid with a grin and just like that, his happiness was gone in an instant.

"Oh no!" Malerie gasped, disappointed and disgusted at the smell that wafted into the air. "Shiterary magazine…" My hand flew to cover the lower half of my face, mostly from shock, partly from the stench. The submission box was nothing but a trash can.

From the corner of my eye, I glanced at Carson and felt my heart dropping at his expression. He looked absolutely dejected. Carson muttered incoherent things under his breath before slumping down to a chair next to Malerie. His head hit his folded arms and I heard him sigh.

"Carson…" I began sadly and shared a look with Malerie. She picked up from where I left. "Don't be too hard on yourself." She said. "If you can get Nicholas Forbes and Scott Thomas to join, I'm sure it won't take long before the others do too!"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. He got Nicholas Forbes, the richest guy in school, and Scott Thomas, president of the drama club, to join? I didn't know that. I've always thought he was at war with the two. Well, he was at war with almost everyone in school so I assumed that he was with them too.

Pushing aside my thoughts, I smiled hesitantly and put on a cheerful tone. "See? It's not so bad. Those are pretty popular people you recruited. In no time, half the school would be writing—"

Carson groaned out loud and buried his face further down his arms. "I blackmailed them into joining." He said in defeat and looked up, looking as tired as hell. "Caught them playing Lewis and Clark in the boys' bathroom. Don't ask." He dropped his head again and I gaped at him with wide eyes the minute I got the double meaning, speechless. How exactly do you reply to something like that?

"Oh…" I finally said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Scott Thomas was always suspiciously effeminate, what with the glitters and sparkles and pink things he added during their productions and all, but I never thought Nicholas Forbes would be gay.

Malerie, on the other hand, didn't seem as shell-shocked as I was. "You know, there seems to be a lot of those lately." She said and dropped her voice into a stage-whisper. "I caught Coach Colin and Claire Matthews bonking…each other…in the boys' locker room." I blushed, mortified at the information. I was sure that my brain was in the brink of exploding from all the unwanted mental images I got.

Carson bolted up from where he slouched.

"What?! I thought she was dating Justin Walker." He looked scandalized and I, on the other hand, felt bile rising up my throat. Coach Colin Walker was an alumna from Clover High; he was a fourth year student when we were freshmen and he was the quarterback back then. Now, he was working in the school as a football coach and his little brother was the head football player.

The idea of both brothers sharing one girlfriend was just…I can't even begin to explain. "It's true." Malerie continued happily, ignoring the looks of horror on both my and Carson's faces. "I even have it on video." She reached for the video camera placed by her side. "Here, I'll show you."

"NO!" Carson and I exploded at the same time, Carson reaching out to snatch away Malerie's video camcorder before she could open it and I, standing up and thinking about running out of the classroom. I sighed in relief when Carson placed the device far, far away out of Malerie's reach. I did not need that kind of trauma.

"Okay…" Carson huffed out after an awkward silence in the room and carried the submission box turned waste bin down to the floor. He gave it a grudging kick for good measure. "Since we're not organizing literary submissions anytime soon, how about we finish our props for tomorrow's Homecoming float instead?"

"Sounds great." I squeaked immediately and stood up, not allowing Malerie to protest about the video any longer. I refuse to watch a sex tape unintentionally made by amateurs. Actually, I refuse to watch a sex tape, period.

"You sure you don't need any help?"

I watched Carson and Malerie fix the last of their props on their float anxiously. I checked the time on my phone again. It read 5:15. I was already fifteen minutes late from going home but I didn't want to leave them here by themselves to get ready for Homecoming. Carson jumped down from the float and rolled his eyes at me. "I told you, we're fine. We're all set anyway, right Malerie?"

"Yeah!" Malerie cheered, jumping up and down like a little kid on top of the float. "This is gonna be so great! I can just feel it." Carson smiled up at her briefly before turning his back to me. "Hey, can you tie the strings for me?" I reached for the strings of his costume half-heartedly and began tying them into knots.

Malerie got down from the float to join our side. She stared at me for a moment before speaking up. "Raewyn, you're going to cheer for us, right?" She asked hesitantly, chewing on her lip. I looked up from where I was tying Carson's no. 2 pencil costume and managed a guilty smile.

"Sorry." I apologized in advance. "I can't stay for long. I have to go home and cook dinner." Carson tensed in front of me. He pulled away before I could react and turned to look at me in protest. "You can't not attend Homecoming." He said. Malerie nodded beside him. "Carson's right. It's like an unwritten law or something."

Sadly, I shook my head at them and sighed. "Look, I can't. As much as I want to, I can't."

"Why not?" Malerie whined out and oh, wasn't this familiar?

"Because." I sighed again and repeated my answer. "I have to go home and cook dinner."

Carson looked downright stubborn as he crossed his arms. "Did you ask your parents for permission?" He asked.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, did you ask permission? Did you even try asking for permission?" Carson shot and I fell silent. Guilty as charged. He smirked at me cleverly. "I thought so." He said, grinning triumphantly. "It's a one-time thing, Raewyn. Come on, please."

I raised an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes. Carson Phillips never said please. He must be desperate. "Do it for me. If not for me, then for Malerie?" Carson nudged the girl beside him and as if a button was turned on, Malerie gave me big, sad eyes and a watery pout.

I sighed in defeat. I wonder how they can make me do what they want when even Remy couldn't convince me. "Fine." I grumbled, scowling at Carson as I took out my phone. He looked as smug as hell as he basked in his victory. "I'll ask. But if my dad says no, then I'm not doing anything any further, okay?"

Carson and Malerie exchanged a high-five.

The bleachers were packed, crowded and tight, with people roaming around looking for vacant seats and elbows and shoulders bumping harshly against each other. I was suddenly reminded why I didn't try asking my Dad for permission in the first place: One, he was a big pushover; he says yes to almost anything, and two, I didn't even want to be here. It was too noisy and full of people and the air was stifling.

Sighing, I shook my head and gathered my scattered nerves. I'm here because Carson and Malerie needed support, I reminded myself and tried to ignore the annoying giggles coming out from the cheerleader that sat beside me. I promised Carson.

Finally, the fireworks burst into the sky and the crowd fell into a chorus of silent 'oohs' and 'aahs'. I sagged in relief at the newly acquired peace and shifted into my seat to get into a more comfortable position. The band was the first thing that entered our line of sight and the cheering and clapping began.

The cheerleaders' float came around next, Claire Matthews sitting on a throne up on the float as the nominated Homecoming Queen. I remembered the thing Malerie told us yesterday and immediately blanched. She would always be beautiful and proud and queenly, but somehow, my perspective of her changed for good.

The other floats followed shortly right after: the football team, the drama club, the FBLA, the Yearbook club—Remy was dressed in a formal blouse and a pencil skirt as she waved enthusiastically at the crowd; next to Claire looking like a Queen, she just might fill out the position of the princess—the Celibacy Club, the Debate team and at the very end of the parade, the Writers' Club's float.

The cheering was reduced to a hushed silence as all the other floats passed by. I heard snickers gathering in the crowd as the last float rolled in front of them. I frowned, confused. Why were they laughing? I tried to look past the field and see what the commotion was all about but the cheerleader beside me kept on elbowing my stomach.

It wasn't until the float went by us that I realized what they were laughing at. There was no truck pulling on the float of the Writers' Club. Instead, Carson was pulling at it with his bare hands using a rope, Malerie waving at the crowd and jumping up and down on the float. I bit my lip in horror.

"Oh my god…" It was all I could get out hoarsely as I watched both of them be jeered and booed and mocked by my fellow audience.

"Go LOSERS!" Someone from the bottom right bleachers shouted—it sounded like a guy, maybe a football player—and the whole crowd roared with laughter. Soon, other people joined it, throwing out insults casually.

"Get outta here!"

"What a nice pair. They're both so pathetic."

"Oh ho, aren't you strong, Phillips? That girl must've weighed a ton!"

"A hundred tons, more like!"

From where I was frozen in my seat, I could see Carson's face going red with effort, rage and mostly humiliation. I clenched my fists tightly against the fabric of my pants and felt helplessness washing over me. There was nothing I could do to help this time. Not when the whole school, the faculty and even the parents were going along with it.

"Screw you!" Carson screamed angrily and pulled the float off the field and without wasting any more time, I stood up from my seat and ran to get to him.

"Carson! Carson!" I called out pathetically at the tense figure that seemed torn in between walking stiffly as to not appear so desperate and running like hell had been unleashed. I swallowed a few deep breaths as I tried to catch up with him; he walked really fast when he was angry. "Carson, please. Wait up!"

I caught up with him just before he could get inside his car and reached out to grab his shoulder. My fingers barely made contact with him when he whirled around and turned to me with a cold glare.

"What?!" He snapped harshly and I flinched, taking a cautious step back to give him a concerned look. His eyes were a stormy gray in color, burning with rage and red-rimmed. His chest was rapidly going up and down, sharp breaths escaping him. His expression scared me.

"I was just…" I mumbled nervously, swallowing hard, "I wanted to see how you were."

"How I am?" He repeated furiously and slammed the door of his car close, a loud bang resonated after it. I recoiled back from him. "I'm fucking angry! What do you think?" He bit out, throwing his hands up and kicking the side of his car. Carson closed his eyes tightly and I was reminded of a kid trying to shield away from his worst nightmare. He inhaled deeply.

"I thought I could convince them." He choked out in a whisper. "Now that I think about it, that thought was just plain stupid." There was an edge of hysteria to his tone that sent goose bumps down my arms. I've never seen him this upset before.

"Carson…" I tried again but he jerked away before I could reach him, and he got inside his car. I placed a hand on the closed door and looked at him through his half-open window. "Carson, please."

"It's getting late." Carson said hoarsely, sniffing and averting his red eyes from me. He eyed the road with undeniable contempt. "You should go home, Raewyn." He said my name in a soft, apologetic tone and I could feel my heart breaking even more at how vulnerable he was.

The events of Homecoming scarred him further than I thought. I clenched my teeth and refused to budge from my position. I wasn't going to end this night without at least talking to him and making him feel better. I wasn't about to let him go like this, angry and near breaking point.

"Carson, come on." I tapped on his window urgently. "Please. We have time."

"No, we don't." He answered quickly and pushed the gear stick into drive. "I'll see you tomorrow." He drove away before I could say anything further and left me by myself in the student parking lot.

Author's Note: Thank you for all the favs, follows and reviews! Your comments make my day complete 3! ^^