Chemistry {Rilaya}

Chapter 6

Chemistry:

Noun (u) / ˈkɛmɪstri/

A connection the gives you an uncanny ability to sense when something is off with the one you share it with.

Something is wrong with Maya. She's been acting strange lately; flaking out on plans without proper explanations and leaving abruptly. I swear I heard her crying in a bathroom stall the other day, but when she came out she showed no sign of it on her face. What's going on with her? Is she alright? Why isn't she talking to me about it? Am I being clingy?

I shake the unsettling thoughts out my head and return my attention to my literacy lesson. I glance at the object of my thoughts as she struggles not to dose off. I examine her pale face, strands escaping from her messy ponytail and hugging her cheekbones, making them look gaunt. Her eyes are droopy, purple bags starting to form under them. I really hope this is just a cold.

A note is slid neatly onto my desk from my diagonal. I open it quietly and see that it is Lucas's handwriting. You really need to quit the constant googly eyes at Maya, it's getting sorta sad. I raise my eyebrows as I scribble a reply, telling him to kindly stay out of it. He's acting strange as well, but it's starting to become a given. I chuck it towards his desk swiftly and listen to the soft sound of pen on paper.

It's back on my desk, and now reads: I'm only trying to help, I don't want you to get hurt. I let out a quiet huff but decide to leave it there, folding up the note and sticking it in my pocket. Thoughts flood into my head as I chew over his point. Could Maya hurt me? I look over at her. In this state, I don't think she'd be able to harm a fly. You know it's going to hurt when she doesn't feel the same way.

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Lunch is unusually quiet today. The sound of chewing mixed with occasional attempts at conversation stain our usually relaxed atmosphere. I can barely take the silence anymore, and neither can Zay as he bursts, "What is up with you guys?"

Maya is snapped out of her straight-faced daze as Zay continues to look around the table wildly. "Why do we seem to collectively have something up our butts?" He stays silent for a moment, assuming somebody would reply, before practically gasping in disbelief. "Are you kidding me people! A perfectly good innuendo opportunity and you let it slip through your fingers?" He splutters, "Even you Smackle?"

We all expect her to say something witty in return, but all she does is offer a thin-lipped smile and looks down at her hands resting in her lap. Oh no, Smackle too? Farkle rubs her shoulder, not quite believing her when she claims to be alright. I sigh, the gloomy atmosphere having affected my outlook on life as well. Maya's hand finds mine under the table and our fingers interlace.

I squeeze her hand in mine, my mood slightly lightened by the contact. We still haven't spoken about the almost-kiss and it's slowly but surely driving me insane. I can't handle not knowing how she feels about that night. On the other hand, I'm too afraid to ask her in case she doesn't feel the same way. So I'm stuck trying to interpret the physical signs she sends me, which is easier said than done.

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"Okay class," our psychology teacher, Mr Young shuts his laptop and leans against his desk, "It's that time of the semester when we're doing pair work again." You have got to be kidding me. "I know it sucks," He continues, "But it's just one of those things. But luckily for you, I'm letting you pick your partners." He smiles fondly at the class as they shower him in various forms of gratitude. "Once you have a partner, come to me to be assigned a topic."