VIII

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Logan

With today being Friday, and my mothers being back. It finally did feel like everything was semi-normal. After the lesson yesterday, Harry and I endured yet another awkward ride home. Somewhere during the short drive, he muttered that he'd throw my clothes in the washer machine when he got the chance. The session itself felt like the first one we did. Quiet, and straight forward. I don't know if it was my pestering that annoyed him or if it was Iris, but he didn't seem too keen on letting it go. The entire week went this way.

I got a break from it when I'd seen my parents. During our rare breakfast together (maple pancakes and bacon) Tuesday morning, Ellen had remotely asked me about my time alone, and I told her the truth - that it was weird. Miranda's ears subtly perked up proudly at the small interaction and I can only imagine what they talked about on their vacation. Since then, it's been just that- small conversations.

This morning, Ellen had left for work earlier, leaving Miranda and I to eat Frosted Flakes together. After breakfast, Miranda dropped me off at school before leaving. Instead of going to class like I probably should have, I found myself sitting at the base of a large oak tree in the yard of the school, picking the grass out of the ground as Doja Cat blasted my airpods. I flipped through the pages of The Critical Race Theory, finding it hard to slow down my pace as my eyes danced across the words.

I do a double take, looking ahead of me when I see dark jeans bend down to sit in front of me. My eyes meet China, who's brows are raised as if saying, "hello?" She adjusts herself in the grass, sitting crissed crossed with her back hunched over. With her dark jeans, I noticed a soft black ACDC tee underneath her black zip up jacket, left open to expose the aged shirt.

"China." I greet normally, taking the buds out of my ear after pausing the music. They're placed in the Fjallraven backpack that lay on the ground to my right, my other books spilling out. I glance at the book page before closing The Critical Race Theory shut. Her eyes follow. "Totally didn't peg you for a Critical Race Theory type of girl." She informs me.

"It's a good book." I tell her, and this is true. She nods.

"Anyway, I came over cause I wanted to see if you knew Professor Argas moved our test to today."

My eyes largen at her words and I quickly grab my phone, scurrying to check the time. I didn't think that test was until today. My fears are confirmed when I look at the time to see that I, in fact, missed Anthropology.

"I figured you didn't know. I told her you were sick and she said you can take it tomorrow, since, you know. It's worth 5% of our grade."

"Oh, wow. Thank you." I'm shocked at her help, considering the fact that we don't know each other too well. She seems nice. A bit brutally honest, but nice.

"No problem. I like your fit today. Not feeling Sandler-y are we?" She jokes flatly, motioning to my baggy ripped light jeans and burgundy red Nasa hoodie. I'd gotten it from a bid on Ebay last year. It's soft material is perfect for the blooming spring.

"That was a one time thing," I laugh lightly and she lifts her eyebrows humorously.

"I bet. Any way, I'd better get going-"

"Who's the new friend?" Ramon's voice sounds as he comes behind me, around the tree. Wearing his usual sweatpants and Nike zip up jacket though he doesn't play any sports. He looks at China, who watches him with the same expressionless expression her face always seems to carry.

"Ramon, China. China, Ramon." I introduce them quickly as Ramon makes himself comfortable on the grass. "Nice to meet you,"He reaches out to shake her hand and her brows furrow. "I don't shake hands."

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