Against the Universe

15 • grover

"You look different today," is the first thing Madelyn says when she parks her chair next to me in Sociology. "I can't tell what it is."

The back of my neck grows hot. I don't say anything.

"Ah!" She snaps her fingers. "You shaved your face."

I rub my hand over my naked jaw, not yet used to the smooth feeling. "I fucked up last night and couldn't salvage it," I explain, suddenly self-conscious. "Decided to just get rid of it all."

I keep my facial hair fairly short, so honestly I didn't expect anyone to notice. Or at least, I didn't expect anyone to say anything.

I guess it doesn't matter. It'll all grow back by tomorrow morning, curtesy of South Asian genes. "Does it look bad?" I ask.

Madelyn pauses. "No."

"You hesitated."

She rolls her eyes in an affectionate manner. "It doesn't look bad, Grover. You look..." she trails off, presumably trying to find a way to tell the truth without hurting my feelings.

"Like a twelve-year-old?" I prompt.

"A very tall, muscular twelve-year-old," she jokes. "Would you be offended if I said you look cute?"

Tall, muscular, cute. "Yes. How dare you?"

"Sorry." She laughs. "Did you cut your hair too?"

I nod. I didn't expect anyone to notice that either.

Inquisitive brown eyes dance around my face, taking in all the changes. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. I can't stand being openly looked at like this. This is torture.

"It looks good. Although it looked good before too," Madelyn concludes, flashing a lopsided smile. A dimple appears in her left cheek.

For some reason I can't accept compliments, so instead of thanking her I go, "Stop flirting with me."

"I'm not. That'd make me a pedophile."

"Hey!"

Her nose scrunches as she giggles, and her laugh is disarming and warm. It sounds like what sitting in a patch of sunlight on a lazy afternoon feels like.

Instead of normal class, Mrs Gordon springs an impromptu debate on us. Debates in Sociology are strange. It's usually the case that one side makes sense, and the other is horrifically immoral and impossible to defend. I get made one of the judges, so I don't have to argue either.

Madelyn is on the affirmative team. She's shy when it comes to talking in front of everyone, but her insightfulness isn't lost.

I like watching her debate. I don't know if that's weird. I like her humble intelligence and her diplomatic way of speaking. Air sign, I think.

While we're wrapping up, we're given a grim reminder that mock exams are next week. Panic shoots up my spine. I thought I was ready until today. Now I realise there's some stuff I don't understand.

I could ask Madelyn for help. It's not something I'd normally even consider, but I genuinely can't imagine her being judgemental about it. I rehearse how to ask her in my head as she packs her things away.

"That was so nerve-wracking," she whispers, her voice light and breathy. She takes the band around her wrist and ties her hair up, but a few defiant curls fall back around her face. "I hate public speaking."

"I can't imagine anyone enjoys it."

Madelyn scoffs. "Vanessa seemed to enjoy it. She tore me to pieces! You're so lucky you were a judge."