Keon's POV:

Why am I so stupid?

I've asked myself that question more times than I can count in the last twenty four hours. Kissing Stephanie at last nights dinner party was bad enough.

The way I treated her today though? Pure stupidity.

I manage to read through the school day, banishing all thoughts except the task ahead. I solve, show my workings and finally, sit down to mark it. Perfect score as usual.

So why don't I feel the normal sense of satisfaction I normally would?

About ten minutes towards the end of the school day, I walk to the 9th grade class where Mr Angeli normally spends the school days, and I find him waiting for me. We continue our earlier conversation and I explain to him once again why I cannot write the play for the drama club's performance. I have already planned out the conversation in between solving my work and marking it. I will tell him my free time is already occupied with tutoring, and this is true. Provided that Stephanie passes the examinations, which have been set for her, I will need to keep an eye on her to make sure that she does not back track and ruin her performance. From what I see, I will be busy until the end of the year.

Mr Angeli expresses his regret that I will not be free, and I assure him that he will find another student just as capable as me. The conversation lasts for about four minutes, just as planned, giving me enough time to be at the library before Stephanie's private tutoring session.

What I do not count on is the wall of students blocking the entrance/exit to Mr Angeli's class. Most of them are young, maybe ninth graders, and they are staring at him through the glass with moony, love sick expressions on their faces.

Is that what I looked like after Stephanie kissed me yesterday?

I curse. I've managed to keep thoughts of Stephanie at bay, but now I'm forced to think of her, of last night and of how I handled the situation today. Horribly immaturely. She came to have a conversation, and I made her feel stupid.

But as immature as I might have been, what I said was true. Last night was an anomaly, a mistake that would gain no benefit from revisiting. We should focus on having a professional student tutor relationship and getting her to pass.

Besides we hate each other

Right?

I have noticed the contempt that she treats guys that have a one-night stand with her and come begging for more. I will not give her a reason to look at me with more hatred than she currently does. Though why I care I cannot for the life of me begin to understand.

"Keon Jacob and Stephanie Young, make your way to the principal's office"

The voice blares over the loud speaker. The principal's office? I have never had to be called to the principal's office. My name doesn't even sound right being echoed that loud.

I take a deep breath, and clean my glasses. I take a quick scan of my uniform in the window of a class and confirm that my shirt is still neat and tucked in, tie perfectly knotted and blazer as impeccable as ever. I know where the principal's office is, even though I've never been summoned into it. I walk down the crowded hallways. Classes are starting to let out now, and students are pouring out, but I still manage to make it to the principal's office within minutes of being called. Stephanie is nowhere to be seen, but I feel it would be rude to go in without her. Maybe she didn't hear the announcement?

I reach for my phone, but remember that I don't have her phone number. How would I even go about asking for that?

The crowds in the hallways part, almost like a red sea, and right in the middles is the cause. Stephanie is walking through the parted bodies like the legendary Moses. She makes it to the door, and looks at me.

"Did they ask us to wait outside?", she asks, barely looking at me as she unwraps some bubblegum and pops it into her mouth.

"Um.. no, I was waiting for you to..."

"Are you unable to open the door yourself, Google?", she rolls her eyes.

This is the Stephanie I am used to, so I do not even bat an eyelid.

"It's called manners. They called us together, I figured we should go in together"

"Whatever", she mutters, pushing the door open without knocking. I follow without a word.

The principal's office is brightly lit. Three walls are covered with pictures from previously graduated sets. I vaguely recognize Aaron's older brother in one of the pictures, looking almost exactly like Aaron, except Aaron doesn't wear glasses, not anymore.

Standing in front of the desk is the principal, Mr Jackson and four other teachers. It takes me a moment to recognize them. Miss Kensigner, Stephanie's literature teacher is there, but also her French, History and Calculus teachers.

They seemed to be in a deep discussion, but as we come in, they break apart and stare at us. Stephanie glares back, her gaze so hostile I can feel it burning my left side. Either that or the closeness between is is burning me up, making the room seem smaller, as if there is no oxygen. And the tense silence in the room is not helping matters.

I clear my throat awkwardly. "Good afternoon", I address it to the room.

"Yes, yes", Mr Jackson springs to life. "Good afternoon Mr Jacob, Miss Young"

Stephanie just stares woodenly at him and inclines her head.

Now it is Mr Jackson's turn to clear his throat. "We summoned you both here because, well, the reports we have been getting are very worrisome".

Apparently, that's the signal that the other teachers were waiting for to begin to voice their complaints. Each one has their own complaint, but it boils down to the same things.

One: Stephanie skips classes, and in the few she does attend, she falls asleep, is rowdy or inattentive.

Two: Stephanie has a long list of assignments that she hasn't turned in. In fact she hasn't turned in a single assignment since she started taking tutoring lessons.

Three: In order to ensure that Stephanie does pass, the tests have had to be shifted back even further, giving us two months to cover everything needed.

As the teachers talk, I realize that, with the exception of Miss Kensigner, they seem to really want to help Stephanie. They don't want her to fail. But Stephanie doesn't seem to care. She doesn't even look at them, her eyes, fixed on some distant spot, unyielding and cold. She would be completely unmoving if not for her hands swinging by her sides almost as though they have a mind of their own

Finally, the list of complaints trickles to an end. Mr Jackson turns away to face the window behind his desk. He seems to be thinking about something, then suddenly, he turns around, turns to face me.

"What are you going to do, Mr Jacobs?", he asks.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What are you going to do. About Miss Young"

I look at him in surprise. Surely, he does not mean that he wants to hear my opinions. Because right now, I am agreeing with the teachers. Stephanie is impossible to teach, easily distract but worse, she seems unwilling. Looking at her hard expression now, I wonder if I was wrong, if the promise I made was in vain. Maybe I will not be able to help her pass. Maybe I will be unable to keep to my end of the bargain.

Then I think of Quinn, and my resolve hardens.

No. I will tutor Stephanie. She isn't hopeless, I just need to get through to her.

"I think Stephanie and I are making process"

I feel all eyes in the room turn to me. Even Stephanie is looking at me, her intense gaze boring tunnels into me. I make sure not to face her, keeping my eyes on Mr Jackson who has raised an eyebrow at me.

"Stephanie and I have our differences..."

"You can say that again", Stephanie breathes under her breath, but I ignore her, continuing my statement.

"...but we are already making progress", the lie rolls easily off my tongue.

Everyone is still staring, but I'm done. I wipe my glasses and put them back on, pushing them back on the bridge of my nose.

"Miss Young?", the principal looks at her.

"Yeah, we're all good", she says lightly, almost too lightly. Stephanie is so unpredictable that she might have decided to tell the truth just to get back at me.

"Well, since that is settled, I would like reports from both of you every week. I am personally interested in your progress Miss Young", he turns his eyes to her, but she is focusing on her distant spot again and she doesn't offer him so much as a glance.

"All of you are dismissed. We will reconvene on Friday for the first weekly report."

Stephanie and I stand aside and let the teachers walk out in a file. I hold the door open for Stephanie to walk out, when Mr Jackson speaks.

"Not you, Miss Young. I would like a word". To me he nods, "Go and wait in the library"

The door closes behind me, shutting out a vaguely worried looking Stephanie. Muffled voices come from the office. For a moment I consider waiting outside for Stephanie, but I feel that this is a conversation that I am not meant to overhear. I will not deny that I am curious, but it is not my place to hear it.

Besides, she is not the only one with secrets.

The hallways are empty now, so it's easier to make my way back to the library. It is empty, but on the librarian's desk is a key, and I know that she left it there so that I could lock up. I begin making my rounds, picking up books left on tables, and arranging them back, this time in order of height

By the time I finish and I've sat down to pack my bag, the door opens and Stephanie walks in.

"I wasn't aware that I was making progress", she says, fluffing back her red hair. Slung across her shoulder is her schoolbag.

"Stephanie I did not..."

"I'm just surprised you're such a smooth liar, that's all", she chuckles as she takes the seat opposite me, resting her head on her hands. For the first time, I see her face crumple with worry, just a flash of it, and then it's gone. But that small break is enough for me. She is worried. And if she is worried, she might be susceptible to change.

And if she is to change, I'll have to make the first step.

"Look Stephanie, we got off on the wrong foot. I want you to pass just as much as your teachers, and I'll do everything in my power to ensure it. So can we start over with a professional relationship?", I stick my hand forward, and a beat passes before she takes it.

"What the hell", she shakes my hand firmly. "I want to pass too". Her voice is shaky, and I think it's whatever Mr Jackson said back there. It must have convinced her enough to give me a chance.

"Oh", I suddenly remember, fishing my phone out of my pocket. "Can I have your number?" I cringe immediately at how it came out sounding, and try to amend it. "You might need clarifications on assignments and I think its practical anyway".

I should have asked her before the kiss. What if she thinks I'm doing this to make a move on her.

She looks faintly amused as she collects my phone, her hand brushing against mine. I feel a volt of electricity and warmth in that little finger, and although she has no physical reaction, she refuses to meet my eyes. Could she be as affected as me? She types in her number, hopping from one foot to the other in an almost restless manner. Then she passes the phone back to me over the desk, letting go of it before my hand can touch it.

What is wrong with me?

She hands me her phone, and I am about to reach for it when I see chocolate smears across the screen.

"What?", she asks, noticing my hesitation.

"I think I'll just... call you instead and you can save my number that way"

She shrugs, pocketing her phone. Call me overly tidy, but I will not be touching another person's phone, especially if it looks like that.

I call her phone and the ringtone starts. Barbie life in a dreamhouse.

"That's a very odd ringtone", I comment as she hangs up, and begins to type into her phone, hopefully saving my number.

"Sorry not all of us have Beethoven symphonies as ringtones", she snaps, rolling her eyes at me.

That was only when I was like fifteen

"Shit", she mutters under her breath. "I thought I just cleaned my phone screen"

Ah so she did notice the chocolate smudges.

And to my horror, she begins to wipe the screen on her uniform shirt.

"Stop", I call out, and before I know what I am doing, I am reaching into my pocket to give her a handkerchief.

"Neat freak", she says, loud enough for me to hear.

"I'm not a neat freak. I'm just a person who happens to like to keep things clean and there's nothing wrong with that.

"Hey, the fault lies not in the stars, but in ourselves", she says wisely

"Did you just... quote Shakespeare?

"Does it help that I also know specifically that it came from Julius Caesar?", Stephanie's voice is high with excitement, and I cannot help but feel a small tingle too.

"Maybe you are making progress after all Miss Young"

"Of course I am Mr Jacobs. After all, you are teaching me"

"Yes, and we should begin a proper lesson right away, starting with literature"
I reach out for the book, and she reaches out for the book and our hands touch, again. She rubs her hand against the back of my hand and I feel an involuntary shiver run through my body.

I am about to speak, but she pulls her hand away and clears her throat. "We should get started. On the literature"

I nod, but somehow, the atmosphere is tight and it remains that way for the rest of the lesson. And worse, it seems that Stephanie has not even touched the book since our last session.

By the end of the class, we are both exhausted, and we still have not covered much. I sigh. She sighs.

"Well class dismissed I guess"

She nods and begins to pack her bag.

She does not say goodbye, practically running out of the library, and I'm grateful for her quick exit because it gives me time to face my thoughts which are a jumbled mess around her.

As I pack the contents on the desk into my bag, I keep pondering the events of today and in fact, every day since I met Stephanie. I come to two conclusions.

One: I may like Stephanie. A lot more than I'm willing to admit to even myself.

Two: In order for everything to succeed, I need to stop having any sort of emotional connection to Stephanie.

I take one last look around the library, making sure that nothing is out of place, and then head off, out of the school. Stephanie's car is already out of the parking lot, but it shocks me when I see my car – mine and Quinn's shared car – in the parking lot. Immediately, the alarm bells in my head go off.

I sprint to the car, throwing open the driver's door to find Quinn sitting in the passenger's seat, typing on her phone. She looks up at me, and though her face looks strained, I can't help but release a breath I was unaware that I was holding.

"Are you OK Keon?", she asks as I remain outside. I swallow deeply and slide into the car, but I do not start the engine immediately, turning to face my twin.

"What are you doing here?", I ask. "You normally do not wait for me to leave". I don't say it accusingly. I encourage Quinn not to wait for me as I have a bus pass and mostly prefer to walk anyway. Besides, Quinn gets bullied – to what extent I have no idea as she doesn't want me to know and gets angry at me when I get involved, claiming that it only makes things worse for her. I've tried reporting to school authorities, but either they cannot catch the culprits or they do not care enough to make an effort. I would have told my parents, but both are hardly ever around and I feel like my mother already knows. The best I can do is to make sure that my twin is out of the way of harm as soon as the bell rings.

Which is why I am surprised to find her still on school property.

"Well, I was just waiting for you...", Quinn starts, but I fix her with a look. It's sort of like a twin thing that we have, well at least I know I have it – I can tell when she is lying.

And she can tell when I've spotted the lie.

She sighs and hangs her head. "Look don't tell mom okay. I don't want her getting all worried about me"

"I cannot make that promise until you have told me what happened yet can I?", I ask, though I am beginning to have a sneaking suspicion of what might have occurred.

"Look I fainted in the hallway today and the school nurse thought it would be best if I... if I didn't drive myself home"

"Of course she was right", I try to keep my voice calm, but fail, exposing how worried I really am. "Was it an asthma attack, was your inhaler not close enough to you", I am trying so hard not to sound like an overworried parent but it's hard to do that when you just found out that your twin dropped in the middle of the hallway.

"It wasn't an asthma attack", she whispers, and instantly I know why she doesn't want mother to know about it.

"What did you eat today, Quinn?", I ask softly. I know this is a very touchy subject and I need to address it as tactfully as possible.

At my question, Quinn turns away from me to face the car door.

"Quinn, you don't expect me to keep this from mother, do you?"

Her silence to my question indicates that that is exactly what she wants me to do.

"She has to know Quinn"

"No, she doesn't", Quinn's quiet voice is firm", but her eyes are avoiding mine as she fiddles with the sleeves of her huge sweater. "Look she'll only get worried and I don't want to do that. Besides this was a one-time thing"

But I know this isn't a one-time thing. Quinn's eating habits have been worrisome for almost half a year. However, this is the first time that I have known her to faint and for one of the first times in my life, I am confused. The wisest option would be to tell a trusted adult, but the truth is that Quinn is right. My mom will only worry and Quinn is at a point where any external pressure could cause her to either crack or totally retreat into her shell. And that would make this situation even worse. As it is, I'm lucky she's told me anything at all.

I pinch the bridge of my nose lightly, then take off my glasses to reclean them. The only person that I can trust with this would be my father, but he isn't, back in Nigeria once again.

He's been there more and more often, no doubt spending time with his mistress.

Quinn is still looking at me imploringly, and I make a split-second decision.

"I won't tell anyone, on the condition that you eat whatever I make for dinner today. Deal?"

She hesitates, wincing as if it almost pains her to consider eating, but eventually she gives in.

"Ok. Deal"

I start the engine, still worried about my twin sister. The only person that can convince her is my father, and he is not here, as usual.

But if my plan works, he will be.