Faking Us ✔️

one

Luca
~

You know that awkward moment in class when everyone finishes their test and there's only one person left trying to complete it? It's like a rush, especially for that one person who is trying so hard to quickly finish before the bell rings. I've always wondered what it's like to be on the other side for once, but unfortunately, that's never been me.

I'm always the second person done.

The sound of Anderson's shoe tapping the concrete floor pulls me away from my thoughts. I can see him sweating a bit, watching him wipe his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. I've told him countless times that our Calculus test was today.

He would either act like he wasn't listening or focus more on the newest Call of Duty beta.
I somewhat don't feel bad about his lack of motivation. This is the thanks I get for trying to help him out, obviously, he would much rather fail than give me a chance.

What are friends for?

I stayed up past midnight going over quadratic equations and functions until my brain couldn't process them anymore.

•Functions
•Derivatives
•Integrals
•Infinites

I'm sure those four words will live rent-free in my head for the next couple of weeks—maybe even months.

The tapping of his feet stops once he notices me staring at him. A quick nervous smile spreads across his lips as he turns his test over and leans back, letting out a deep breath. It doesn't stop there though—as he glances around the room, he spots Brittney Lemons still hunched over her test. Beads of sweat start to form around her forehead. When she looks up, Anderson quickly flips his test back over to second-guess his answers.

The anxiety this kid has...

If I could give him a Xanax, I would.

The final bell interrupts the classroom making our teacher, Mr. Walts, take the papers from our hands to dismiss us for the day. The hall fills with students heading outside toward the buses. Once I step outside and welcome the cold California air, I hear my name getting called out from behind me.

"Hey Luca, wait up," Anderson speed walks beside me, following me as I head for my truck. "How do you think you did?"

He does this every time. I think he wants me to agree with him that I wasn't sure about my answers. Instead, I shrug and say, "Piece of cake."

That obviously wasn't the answer he was requesting. He runs a hand through his ashy blonde hair. "Yeah, I totally agree."

I let out a laugh. "Right, because the uncontrollable leg shaking helped you ease through it?"

"Hey," he holds up his hands in defense. "It works for some people."

"Should have taken me up on my offer."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't always need your help."

"Oh yeah?" I quirk up a brow. "Then you sure as hell don't need my Microsoft points."

"W-wait."

I shake my head and toss my backpack in the bed of my black, 2009 single-cab F150, while he follows and jumps inside the passenger seat.