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Introduction:

No sex in this chapter, but there will be in the next. Thanks for being so patient!

My alarm clock sounded. I rolled clumsily out of bed and dropped a fist on top of the "off" button. Rubbing my eyes, I yawned and stumbled over to my dresser. I pulled out some boxers, shorts, a belt, and a t-shirt with three buttons on the front.

Halfway through pulling my shorts on, I remembered that I had to talk to Sara. I groaned and kept dressing after checking my phone to see that she still hadn't responded. The smell of pancakes filled the air, drawing me downstairs.

"Hey, bud." My dad said, briefly looking up from the griddle in front of him to gesture that I should sit down at one of the tall chairs behind the kitchen counter. He slid a glass of orange juice over to me and I grimaced in anticipation of the combination of the juice with my toothpaste.

I choked down a few sips before the bitter taste went away, just in time for some pancakes to slide over and accompany my juice. "Thanks." I said, cutting a huge piece of pancake with my fork and shoveling it into my mouth.

"Mhmm," My dad acknowledged, "I haven't cooked breakfast in a while, so I figured 'why not'?"

Then, my mom came sleepily from their bedroom. "Oh, you made breakfast?" She asked my dad, smiling broadly.

"It's been a while." He repeated, returning her smile.

She walked up and hugged him, craning her neck up to kiss him briefly. I made a disgusted noise and turned away.

"What?" My dad laughed at my discomfort, turning toward me and putting his hand on my mom's hip. "You should be happy that your parents are in lo-ove." He stretched out the "o" in "love" to be even more annoying.

"Blech." I responded.

"What?" My mom asked. "You afraid of cooties or something?"

"Good god, mom," I sighed, "I'm not eight."

"Speaking of 'eight'," my dad continued, "shouldn't you be going soon?"

"Dad, two things. One, that was the worst segue I've ever heard. Two, it's 7:45, so I don't have to leave for a while."

He harrumphed. "I thought it was an excellent segue. Didn't you, dear?" He looked at my mom.

"Of course, sweetie." She responded diplomatically.

I finished my pancakes and went to put away my dishes, but stopped suddenly. "Wait." I said, thinking of Sara's mysterious texts. "I just remembered that I have to get there a few minutes early today for history. I'm gonna get my stuff."

My parents looked confused, but I ignored them. Hoping that Eric would be ready, I shot him a text saying that I would be on my way soon and that he'd better get his ass out of bed. I grabbed my backpack and soccer bag and rushed to the door. "Thanks for breakfast love ya bye!" I said, clambering into my car and tossing my things into the backseat. My parents followed me into the garage and waved as I drove off to Eric's house.

It took me about five minutes to get there. Eric was waiting on his porch swing, like he usually did in the warm months. "What's the big rush?" He asked, dropping into the passenger seat.

I paused for a second to watch the road while I pulled onto the main road from his neighborhood's entrance. "Um, Sara texted me last night to tell me that she needed to talk to me before school this morning, but didn't explain more than that."

"What the hell?"

"That's what I said! Not that rudely, though."

"And you haven't talked to her in about two years, right?"

"Right." I confirmed. "It's probably nothing. You know how she is. Remember how she threw a fit once because Redwood's cafeteria didn't have fucking chocolate soy milk? She isn't even lactose intolerant!"

Eric laughed. "The weirdest part about that is that we were like six. Who the fuck drinks soy milk at that age?"

I laughed, too. "Now that I think about it, she did a ton of weird shit at Redwood. It's weird that you had a crush on her."

"Fuck you! I just thought she was hot, same as you did! Come to think of it, you probably made this whole thing up so that you could get some alone time with 'Soyra', because I think you still have a crush on her!"

Disregarding what he was actually saying, I focused on one word. "Did you just combine 'soy' and 'Sara' to make 'Soyra'?"

"So what if I did, bitch?" He retorted mock-defensively.

"You're a real dumbass." I told him, flipping the turn signal on.

"You know what," he went on, "I bet you fifty bucks she pulls some stupid shit to get me to go away so that she can talk to you one-on-one. She never liked me much, anyway. You were the only normal kid that she liked."

"Yeah, I-"

"Oh, shit!" Eric interrupted. "This is my jam!"

Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song had come on the radio through my phone, which was playing my music via the auxiliary port.

"Since when are you a fan of classic rock?" I asked incredulously. He'd always been more of a hip-hop guy.

"We come from the land of the ice and snow!" Eric shouted over me, swinging his head around, his short gelled hair staying perfectly stiff throughout the process.

His enthusiasm was so great that I had to join in. "From the something something where the hot springs flow!"

We continued our duet until the end of the song, rocking out to various songs for the rest of the ride. Halfway through Down Under by Men at Work, which Eric didn't know the words to, we arrived at school. We walked over to Myers's room and saw Sara waiting for us outside the room.

"I'll just leave now." Eric said. "Good luck."

"Thanks, dude." I laughed nervously. He split off from me and walked around the corner in the direction of the library, where I assumed he was going.

When Sara noticed that I had arrived, she strode purposefully toward me.

"Uh, hi." I said, unsure of what to do. Our past friendship suggested that I should greet her warmly, but we hadn't exactly made any efforts to keep the friendship alive, leaving me in an awkward predicament.

"You're still smart, right Chris?" She asked, ignoring my greeting.

That took me off guard. "What? Yes? I don't see what-"

"I'm gonna need your help this year. My parents are threatening to send me to a boarding school if I don't get straight A's in freshman year and Myers's class is the only thing standing in my way."

"Sara, I'm not doing your homework for you." I said firmly, choosing not to mention how what she said didn't make any sense. My temper was rising as I realized that the only reason she was even talking to me was because she wanted to use me.

"No, that's not what I'm asking. I just-"

"You're not asking for shit, Sara! I haven't seen you in two years and the first thing you say is that you need my help to pass a class! We used to be friends!" I snapped. That shut her up. She stood there, speechless, for a moment.

"I- Um..." She began, but trailed off. Apologizing wasn't her strong suit; It takes some humility, and her supply of humility wasn't too big.

I sighed. "That's what I thought." I checked my phone: the bell would ring for school to begin in about a minute and then I would have five minutes to get to class. Might as well get there early. "It was nice to see you again, Sara." I said in an atonal voice that made it clear I was only still speaking to her out of politeness. I spun around slowly and took a step in the direction of class.

Sara seized my hand. "No, Chris! I'm... sorry. I just didn't know what to say, since it had been so long and it was kinda awkward seeing you again." She looked up. Her eyes were the same electric blue that they had always been. "Listen, Chris; we can meet at Coffee Break after my cheer practice and catch up, okay? Then we can discuss you helping me. Here, let me put my number in your phone."

"I already have it, remember? Thanks to your clandestine mission last night."

"Oh, yeah... Ok, so cheer practice ends at 5:15 today. Can we meet after that?" She asked.

"Soccer ends at 5:15, too." I responded, avoiding answering her question.

"So, 5:45?" She prompted.

"Sure." I said. Then, remembering to be a gentleman, I spoke again. "You need a ride?" I saw Eric poke his head around the corner, so I tried to send him telepathic messages saying to go away without alerting Sara.

She smiled genuinely and warmly for the first time in the conversation. "No, I can get one from my sister. Thanks, though."

I nodded and waited for her to leave.

Eric silently neared me, then opened his mouth. "What was that all about?"

I scratched my head, still a little stunned. The conversation felt like it had ended almost before it began. "Uh, she wants to 'catch up'." I neglected to mention the studying; it would only cause problems for other people to know that I would be helping her at this stage, not that I didn't trust Eric.

"That's it?" He was astonished.

"Yeah, well, you know how she is." I answered, though I had just seen a side of her that had remained hidden for all the years of us being friends.

"I guess." He responded suspiciously. "Don't be surprised if she's planning something, though."

"Yeah, thanks." I was grateful that Eric was concerned, but I wished he would give it a rest. "Hey, maybe don't mention this to the guys; I don't want any rumors started or anything."

"Sure, bro. Wouldn't want anyone to think that you were dating a real live girl, now would we?" He winked. I rolled my eyes. There was no way he was keeping that promise.

We joined our friends in class, which proceeded much the same as it did yesterday, except without any quizzes. I never made eye contact with Sara and she left as soon as the bell rang, so we didn't have to talk again, thank Buddha.

The rest of the day flew by. I guess that's what happens when you have a "date" (really more of a meeting) with a hot girl coming up and you keep wishing it was tomorrow. I told myself not to be a pussy, though, and kept from postponing or canceling on Sara.


***


After soccer, I dropped Eric off and showered thoroughly, throwing on some nicer shorts and a clean shirt. I told my parents that I was meeting a friend from Redwood, which was technically true, and that I shouldn't be too long. I arrived at Coffee Break at 5:50 and made my way to the door. Their logo, a shattered coffee mug with googly eyes --get it? Coffee 'Break'?-- looked down at me from the top of the glass door.

While I opened the door, I looked through it and saw Sara sitting at a circular two-person table on the edge of the single room, sipping at an iced coffee and tapping away on her phone. I entered, greeting the nose-ringed barista with a small smile and pointing myself in the direction of Sara's table, determined to be friendly and open no matter what Sara said. I felt that I'd been a little harsh earlier and wanted to make up for it.

She still hadn't noticed my by the time I got to her table. "Is this seat taken?" I asked with a small smile.

She looked impatient for a moment, then realized who I was and regained her composure. "No, um, sit down."

"I think I'm gonna get a drink, first." I told her.

She nodded once and went back to her phone, so I ambled over to the counter. The barista smiled again. "What can I get ya?" She asked with the quirky eagerness that seems to come standard with independent coffee shops' baristas.

"I'll have a small Break-uccino, please."

"Coming right up."

The aforementioned "Break-uccino" was a bit of a stretch of a portmanteau of "Coffee Break" and "cappuccino", but it was delicious. Some kind of strange smoothie of coffee and ice, it was the only coffee I would drink. My parents insisted that the taste of coffee was an acquired one, and would grow on me as I got older, but anything that wasn't loaded with sugar still tasted way too bitter for me.

"You want whipped cream?" She asked.

"No, thanks." I responded. When baristas put whipped cream on drinks, they always put less drink in the cup to make room for the whipped cream, which seems silly to me. Therefore, I refuse whipped cream on principle.

Within seconds, the barista had delicately placed my drink on the counter with a tattoo-covered hand. "That'll be $4.35."

I raised my eyebrows at the cost, thinking of the Starbucks scene in the Lego movie, and slapped down a five on the counter. She gave me the change, which I promptly dropped into the tip jar. "Thanks." I said, returning to my table. The barista only nodded and smiled once more; she was already busy with the next customer.

Sara looked up to see me returning and placed her phone down on the table. I sat down and sipped my drink for a minute, waiting for her to speak. When she didn't, I did. "So, cheer, huh?"

"Mhmm. And track."

"What events?" I wondered aloud.

"Hundred meter and pole jump." She said matter-of-factly.

I nodded seriously. "So, you're good on the pole?

"Yup." She confirmed, not getting the double entendre.

I decided to push the joke a little further. "At least you'll have a way to get yourself through law school, then." Might have been risky to open with a joke like that, but we were there on my terms, so I didn't feel too concerned.

She looked shocked, as if she had forgotten that I could make jokes, but laughed after a second. "Sure. Not law school, though. It seems so boring."

"Still wanna be a nurse, then?"

"Yeah, how did you-?" She stopped and shook her head, amazed. "Wow, you really do have a good memory."

"Well," I said, "I definitely didn't get this far on work ethic. I'm severely lacking in that department. And," I added, "I could've forgotten and just be a stalker."

"Uh-uh." She said surely. "That never seemed like your style."

"Style? I wasn't aware that I had a style."

"Everybody does. Give me a few minutes of talking to you and I'll decide what yours is. It's been a while and I don't have a perfect memory." She replied.

"Well, give me something to talk about, then."

"Okay, um..." She thought for a moment, "What's your favorite movie?"

I barely hesitated. "Interstellar."

"Nerd." She shot back, grinning slightly.

This was good; she was smiling. Just to keep her guessing, I put on an affronted look, which wiped the grin off of her face. "I prefer the term 'enthusiast'."

"No, I didn't mean-" she stopped when she saw my smile break out; I couldn't keep pretending to be offended. "Dick."

"Potty mouth." I folded my arms and reclined a bit in my chair.

"Okay, what's my favorite movie?" She asked, changing things up.

"Oh, that's what we're doing now? I believe it was Legally Blonde, but now? I can't be sure."

"Guess."

"You look like you would be a fan of The Notebook." I conjectured.

"What, because I'm a girl? Girls aren't all the same, you know!" Her eyes flashed in muted anger as she spoke, signaling possible imminent demise for me.

"I know, I just-" I halted. "Shit, you got me."

She grinned again. "It's The Wolf of Wall Street."

I raised my eyebrows appreciatively. "I stand corrected. That's hardcore."

She laughed. "Okay, what kind of music do you like?"

"I'm not too picky when it comes to music. Rock, rap, classical. Just not country or techno or most pop."

"Hmm." She muttered as if she were a psychiatrist taking notes on her patient. "I'm closer to developing an idea of what your 'style' is."

"Ok, that's enough about me for a while, then. What have you been up to for the past two years?" I asked.

She told me about her time at public middle school, how she met all of her friends, about her vacations to Mexico and Barbados, and by the end, I felt like I had a good idea of who she had become. It was much easier to talk to Sara now than it ever had been when we were at Redwood, which I attributed to her treating me more like an equal (even though that probably only came from her needing something from me). I also noticed that her voice changed as she started getting more comfortable with talking to me: it got a little lower, more hushed, with a slight rasp, as if she was on the tail end of a sore throat. Sort of like Scarlett Johansson's.

Near the end of her story, she dropped her phone, which she had been spinning around in her hand, and contorted herself in her chair to pick it up. Normally, I would avoid openly checking out someone who was right next to me, but when her loose, flowy shirt gave me a perfect view of her fantastic boobs, I couldn't help but steal a glimpse. She was wearing a lacy pink bra, and it only made her tits look better. I tore my eyes away and tried to look normal.

"So, how about you?" She finished, sitting back up in her chair.

"Well," I began, "you know that I stayed at Redwood through eighth grade. Not much happened in seventh, but we went on a class trip to D.C. in eighth grade, which was a lot of fun. I tried out for soccer last November and that took up a lot of my time in the spring semester of last year and last summer. I went to Hawaii in the summer, too."

"Ooh!" She leaned in. "Which island?"

"Kauai. The garden island."

"It must've been beautiful." She said enthusiastically.

"It really was. Here, I took a bunch of pictures." I got up out of my seat and moved to her side of the table to show her my photos of Kauai. Leaning down over her shoulder, I flipped through the album on my phone, narrating each photo. We got to a picture of my family in which we were all making faces at the camera and I quickly swiped it away, embarrassed. "That's just an embarrassing picture of my family."

"I think it's cute." Sara said. She turned her head to look at me, still leaning over her shoulder. From up close, I had really been able to see how pretty she was. She had an even tan, with a few freckles dotted around her nose, and her features were soft, but defined. One side of her full lips curved up and her eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled slightly. Her dirty blonde hair flowed elegantly to her shoulders, paradoxically looking both carelessly beautiful and precisely arranged.

"Uh, thanks." I replied with a forced smile, not sure how to react to that without looking weird. I returned to my seat to avoid any potential awkwardness, but my efforts were in vain: a short and slightly uncomfortable silence followed.

This time, Sara broke the silence. "I guess it's time to talk about what I asked you at school."

I sighed internally; I had been able to put off talking about this for a while, but it was inevitable. "Explain to me exactly what you want and why you want it."

"Like I said, my family wants me to get a 4.0 GPA in every year of high school because they think that it means I'm like an incompetent student or something if I don't. And, if I don't, they're going to send me to an all-girls boarding school."

"I feel like there's something you're not telling me. That doesn't make sense." I pressed. There was something strange about her parents' request; they'd never seemed this strict when Sara and I were at Redwood; plus, the logic didn't make any sense.

Sara looked away, down at her phone, clearly trying to dodge the question. She mumbled something incoherent.

I tried something I wouldn't have dreamed of doing even a few hours ago; I reached out a hand and cautiously placed it on her phone, obscuring the screen. "Tell me, Sara. I won't help you if I don't know why I should be doing it."

She put her phone back down resignedly. "It's not... It's not exactly related to academics, but it's part of it. It's also not that they'll think I'm incompetent."

I didn't say anything, but stared her in the eyes until she spoke again.

"My parents- they think I'm going to --how do I say this?-- they think I'm going to go down the same path as my sister did in high school." She blurted out the rest, as if she were embarrassed.

I didn't know of any reason why she should be embarrassed, though: her sister was a sophomore in college, the same age as Andrew, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with her. "What's wrong with your sister?" I asked.

"She was a bit of a partier." Sara explained.

"So?"

"Maybe 'a bit' is an understatement; she got in some serious trouble. Even with the law."

"Why do your parents think you're going to do the same thing?" I was still confused.

"I like having fun, but my parents don't approve of my ways of having fun." She flushed, embarrassed and a little flustered.

"I understand. And the 'straight A's' thing is a way for you to prove to your parents-"

"-that I'm not going to be like my sister was." She finished.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to not party and stuff?"

"Maybe, but it would be terrible. What's the point of high school if you can't have fun?"

"Learning?" I suggested. "Enabling you to possibly not have to work at McDonald's for the rest of your life?"

"Whatever. All I need you to do is help me study for quizzes and tests. The projects and stuff, I can handle by myself." Her bossy side was coming out again.

"Sara, I'd like to help you, but I don't know if I can really devote the time. I'm kind of busy, and since it doesn't really help me, I don't know if it's worth it for me."

"I'll make it worth your while." She insisted.

"Sara, I don't need money or anything. It's just an issue of how I want to be spending my time."

"I'll suck your dick."

"What?!" I exclaimed loudly. So loudly, in fact, that a couple people looked over at Sara and I. "Is it normal for you to offer to do something like that?"

"Well," she explained, "one of the things that my parents are worried about is me being a little too... casual about these kinds of things."

"More than a little!" I squawked uncomfortably.

"What, you didn't think that people in high school only had sex when they were in relationships, did you?"

"Well... I didn't think it was all that common not to." I explained, thinking about Andrew's visitor from the other day.

"Damn, Chris. You really are a good little private school boy." She laughed, more surprised than condescending.

"In comparison to you, maybe." I admitted, teasing. "Aren't you worried about consequences, though?"

"Nope. I only deal with older guys who realize that sex is just fun and there doesn't have to be any stupid emotional stuff. Plus, I'm on the pill, so no babies."

I was only getting more shocked. "How long has this been going on for you that you're on the pill?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "Not too long. But long enough."

I wasn't even going to ask what she meant by that last part.

"Sara, just think about all of the stuff that this 'arrangement' could fuck up. We just started getting to know each other again and now you wanna start a sexual relationship."

"Not a sexual relationship," she corrected, "I'm just reciprocating the help that you're giving me with school. We'll still just be friends."

I ran a hand through my hair. "At least let me think about it, okay? This is not a normal request for me."

"Sure." Sara leaned back in her seat, totally comfortable with a situation that was completely new to me, which threw me off. "Done yet?" She asked after a minute.

I gave her a dirty look.

"Fine. Take as long as you want, unless you want to take more than a day."

"Okay, well, It's getting late, so I should probably get home."

"My sister's right outside, so I have to go anyway."

I opened the door for her and followed her outside.

"Tell me what you decide. I could really use your help." She feigned a shy smile.

"Yup." I replied wearily. It was frustrating that I couldn't read Sara; she seemed to be giving off as much fake emotion as real, and it really threw me for a loop.


***


I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, throwing a ball up in the air and catching it over and over, like every main character does when they're thinking about a dilemma. To be honest, I would've said yes on the spot, but I was nervous about starting something like that with an old friend who also happened to be very popular. Sara was incredibly hot, though, which appealed to the horny teenager part of me. But the rational part of me wondered what what would happen if we got caught. How would I explain that to my parents, or to anyone else?

The ball came down again, but I missed the catch. The ball landed with a 'thunk' on my forehead, then bounced to the floor.

Ah, fuck it.

I muttered some curses about the ball and my head and the whole situation with Sara while I searched the folds of my rumpled sheets for my phone.

Fine.

There was a very short pause.

Great. We should probably meet every other day or so, since there's no way of knowing when a pop quiz is coming up.

K. Do you want me to pick you up after practice or what?

Sure. Start next Monday?

Sounds good.

See u tomorrow ;)

"What's the worst that could happen?" I thought only somewhat ironically. I didn't really have anything to lose; I guess Sara could tell everyone I was a loser or a rapist or something, but I didn't know many people anyway and the people I did know wouldn't listen to her. Plus, I'd be getting something out of it, so it wasn't a totally worthless activity.

I wasn't sure how to help her study, though. Having never studied, myself, I didn't know exactly what to tell her to do. Maybe she just wanted help understanding stuff? I could do that.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something felt off about the whole arrangement, though. Something seemed false about Sara, like her warm and friendly personality was just a facade that hid her true self. Maybe she was just being restrained because we hadn't seen each other in so long. I would have to watch her closely, like Eric suggested.

"Honey, dinner's ready!" My mom shouted from the first floor, interrupting my thoughts.

Soft jazz music floated from the speakers dotted throughout the house; the table was set for three.

"Where'd Andrew go?" I asked mom. He'd been there when I returned home from my meeting with Sara.

"He's out with friends and won't be back until late." She answered. "How was that friend, by the way?"

"Good." I slid into a chair. "It was Sara Ingram, by the way, and she managed to convince me that I should be her study buddy for the year, so I'm gonna be spending a lot of time over at her house after school. If that's okay."

"That's fine. I thought you two were never very close, though. Or was I mistaken?"

"Well, I might have exaggerated how detached I was from her. We were friends at Redwood, but she was always weird. She's easier to talk to, now, though."

"Oh, good!" My mom beamed. "I'm glad you're making friends, honey, even if you're just remaking old ones."

"I've only been in public school for two days, mom. Give me a chance to be social."

"I just want you to do whatever makes you happy."

"Unless that involves killing people or embezzling or something." My dad added.

My mom and I both rolled our eyes.


***


"Chris... Chris..."

"What?" I mumbled, forcing my eyes closed against the harsh light.

"Your brother is leaving; get up." Dad ordered.

"Leaving? What? Oh, yeah." Andrew had to go back to California to get ready for school to start again and his flight was early this morning. "What time is it?"

"5:30." He replied.

"5:30? God damn." I grumbled under my breath.

Andrew was waiting by the front door. I stumbled over to him and threw an arm around him in a sleepy, but brotherly hug. "See you at thanksgiving, shrimp." He said, roughing up my hair a little bit violently. He loved to lord it over me how he was still so much bigger and stronger than me.

My mom wrapped him up in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Be good."

He sniggered, only half-pretending to ignore her warning, and led my dad out the door.


***


I fell backward, feeling panic overwhelm me briefly as I careened into the abyss- wait, no, I was only falling asleep. Damn hypnic jerks. It's never a good sign when you're falling asleep during the first class of the day. Waking up at 5:30 was clearly not good for me.

"So, we're going to be starting our first project of the year next week."

That was enough to wake me up as if I'd just downed twelve cups of coffee.

"You're going to be split into groups of two to research the Amendments to the Constitution. You can start picking which Amendments you want to do after I assign groups. I'll be taking them by whoever comes to my desk first. Okay, the groups..."

I zoned out again until I heard my name.

"Chris and-" she paused to draw another name from the hat. There weren't many names left; Eric and Sara were the only two people that I personally knew of the remaining few. "-Sara!" She announced.

How convenient.

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