Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was so close.

So close, but still so far away. This was not going to go over well with Cassius.

Keefe dropped down onto his bed with a rough sigh.

He had tried, at least. Not that it would make a difference to his father when he found out, but he could at least tell himself that he had tried.

He’d tried, like he always did, to be the best. He had failed. He had come in second place. He was so tired of failing.

He’d still gotten an A+ of course, that was a given. He’d never gotten anything less. But he wasn’t the top of his class anymore. He wasn’t the absolute best and his father was going to hate him for it.

It was that blonde girl. He refused to even think of her name or how vibrant her cheeks got when she was being competitive.

Keefe felt sick.

He wished his father would never find out about his failure. But he knew he was going to. It was inevitable. Stupidly, horribly, excruciatingly inevitable.

He wanted to scream. But screaming wouldn’t be smart right now. He needed to remain under the radar in hopes that his father would never find out.

Instead he threw himself down on the pillow and let the tears flow free. It was better to get them out now. He couldn’t cry in front of his father. That would be a huge mistake.

The tears wet his pillow as he thought about what was to come. He had to stay strong.

He could do it.

He couldn’t do it.

Could he?

He was about to find out.

Just as he was pondering, he heard a car door slam.

His father was home.

Keefe raced around his room in a panic. He yanked up items from his floor.

Using the age old technique, he threw everything in the closet.

If his father came into his room with it being the slightest bit untidy he would kill him. Not literally, but close enough.

The front door slammed next. Keefe jumped on his bed, jerked open a textbook, and bent over it. He reached blindly for a pencil and slid it behind his left ear.

He had just gotten his breathing under control when his father burst into the room, slamming the door into the wall.

Keefe winced but kept his eyes on the page. His father might take eye contact right now as a sign of aggression.

His father’s hard breaths were easily heard across the small room and Keefe closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable to begin.

A hand that he didn’t see move slammed into him and his head was thrown to the side. He cracked his head on something cold, his bed frame maybe?

Cassius had found out.

He had made friends with the principal a while back and the principal had called him asking if things were ‘ok at home’ because Keefe’s ‘performance was off.’

He was sure his dad had thanked him, maybe even acted a little worried, and done everything a caring parent should do.

Cassius grabbed Keefe by the arm and threw him to the wooden floor.

Keefe and his father were both very good actors.

Keefe had learned early on not to show his scars to anyone. When a punishment got ‘out of hand’ and he was left with black bruises, he made up stories of fights he got into with the neighborhood kids over protecting a cat or a little kid.

He’d turned himself into a hero. Little did they know.

His father was kicking him now. Keefe curled up in a ball, trying to protect his head.

He knew he wasn’t worth their affection. He hoped they’d never see how horrible he really was. He couldn’t deal with everyone knowing his flaws and hating him for it.

Cassius screamed in Keefe’s face. Keefe kept his eyes closed and hummed softly to block out the words he already knew by heart.

He knew he deserved this treatment though. After all, Cassius was his father and didn’t your parents know you better than anyone? If that was true then his father was the only one who treated Keefe the way he deserved.

He’d never had anyone who truly loved him. He thought his mom had, but did people who truly love you leave?

His mom had left him and not even bothered to ask if he wanted to come too.

He had thought he’d be fine.

Tears ran tracks down his face as his father continued to pummel him relentlessly. He couldn’t let this happen again. He had to work harder at school somehow. He had to be the best.

It hadn’t always been this way.

He remembered sunny days when he was a little kid. His parents would take him on walks or picnics with other kids and their parents. The best part being that they wouldn’t fight with either people around.

There was no one else around anymore.

Keefe was dragged back to the present by the door slamming as his father left.

He didn’t know how long he stayed on the floor of his bedroom that night.

He cried until he didn’t know how there was liquid left in his body to cry. Then he cried a little bit more.

He cried for the father he had. He cried for the father he wished he had.

And he cried for the love he was sure to never receive.

The next day Keefe chose a long-sleeved shirt and put a hoodie over it to be safe.

No one could find out.

Keefe had had teachers inquire about the bruises he often got. Usually, Cassius would say that Keefe was ‘out of control’ and ‘a delinquent’ and  that usually abated the questions.

But then the school nurse went so far as to call child services. He told Keefe that he would have to answer some questions but his dad would never know.

The social worker had come to him at school. He was called to the office and he thought for sure he was in trouble.

The lady looked very serious and Keefe had fidgeted nervously wondering what she knew.

She asked him questions about how his dad treated him and if he ‘felt safe'.

How could he ‘feel safe’ with a dad like his? Is safety even possible with a dad like his?

But he worried if he told the woman that he’d get in trouble.

So he’d forced that crooked grin he was famous for and said whatever she had heard was wrong. That it was just his troublemaking instincts kicking in. That she should see the other kids.

He talked about the picnic days like they happened all the time.

He also made sure to remind her how influential his father was and how deeply offended he’d be if he ever caught wind of their talk.

After apologizing profusely, the flustered woman had fled.

Keefe had immediately gone to the nurse claiming to feel nauseous, which wasn’t a lie. Mr. Heslege, I’m fine. Please don’t do that again.

The nurse had tried to reassure him, Keefe, if something is wrong you need to tell me ok? Your dad will never know.

Please!

Elwin had finally agreed, but he said to come to him anytime. He was a miracle worker and made Keefe feel better whether it was just cream on bruises or patting his knee when he needed someone to rant to.

So that was his life now.

Depending on a school nurse for moral support in his life.

His father never found out about that day.

If Keefe could help it, he never would.

He was shelving books at the library—his dad didn’t know of course, Keefe told him he had an extra class—when a voice from beside him said, “Hey, do you work here?”

He turned, “Kind of, I’m a volunteer.”

“Can you get this book down for me?”

He read the title and looked up, “It’s right there. Yeah, I can get it. No problem.”

He reached up, grabbed the book and spun around to hand it to her.

Her face was frozen.

She brought her hand up to his shirt and memories of his dad slammed into him.

Keefe flinched away from the hand coming at him.

He crossed his arms and backed away, but he knew his father would come after him. He couldn’t escape the pain that was sure to come now.

He was trapped.

He tried to take a deep breath but he couldn’t feel his lungs anymore. He wasn’t sure if air could still go inside them.

Tears threatened.

He was broken.

“Keefe. What happened to you?” A soft voice came through his thoughts and they came to a screeching stop.

His father’s voice was not soft, so whose voice was that?

He met the warm gaze of Sophie Foster, the student who was his rival. The girl who he should probably not want to explain himself to. The girl who should not be touching his bruises. The girl who he shouldn’t think looks kinda pretty when she’s shocked…

To hide his uncomfortable train of thought, Keefe schooled his features. A useful skill he had taught himself to refrain from showing any pain or weakness in front of his father.

He forced himself to frown darkly, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Chapter Text

Today was an awful day. 

That was a given. 

Most days were awful. 

And this day was one of the worst. 

Sophie was smart. She wasn’t bragging by saying that, it was simply the truth. As far as school went, she was smart. Memorizing was easy for her, and facts were retained in her mind far after she learned them. 

It helped that she liked learning. She liked learning about all sorts of things. 

But that classified her as a nerd, the same way a giraffe would be classified as a mammal. 

Being a nerd in public school was not good. 

Being a nerd when that was just about all there was to you was a death wish. 

She wasn’t like Keefe, her biggest competitor in grades. He wasn’t inherently a nerd because he also did sports and had friends. 

He was popular and a jock. 

That alone saved him from the spot of being a hopeless nerd that nobody liked. 

She was the prey of the popular kids in school. Technically, she was plenty popular, but in no way good. She was popular only for her grades, and for getting the students more homework. 

That was just about the worst thing someone could be “popular” for. But it was fine, because she was learning more in the long term. She would show all those other kids that it was a good thing to be smart when she had a good job and a nice financial position while they were barely getting by. 

But that did nothing in the meantime while she was bullied.

“Hey,” Stina teased, blinking innocently, “Sophie. I heard you’re the top of your class. How does it feel to be the best of the best?”

She refrained from groaning. It was even worse that she had skipped a grade, so she was a full year younger than her classmates. 

“It feels fine,” she muttered. 

Stina opened her mouth slightly, still feigning innocence. “Oh? It feels… ‘fine’? So, you do think you’re better than the rest of us?”

Sophie exhaled. “No. Of course not. Better grades doesn’t mean better in general.”

Stina’s look of innocence dropped away, replaced by a livid glare. “I think that you should come with me.”

Sophie’s heart thudded, and she attempted to steady her breathing. Not this again. Stina would hurt her, physically, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

She was a lot smaller and weaker than Stina, and Stina had promised her that she would make her life miserable (even more so than it already was, if that was possible) if she told anyone. 

Her principal would believe Stina over her anyway. Stina was a notorious bully, but she was good at pretending to be nice in front of the teachers, so she never got in trouble.

“Please?” Stina asked, back to innocent mode. The look in her eyes revealed the truth: This was not a question, but an order.

Sophie followed her reluctantly until they were out of view of any security cameras, outside by the dumpster where they often went. 

Sophie braced herself for Stina’s slap, but she was never fully prepared for it. 

“You better watch out,” Stina warned. “I can get you expelled. Don’t want your perfect little future ruined, do you?”

Sophie stood on her tip-toes in an attempt to reach a book that she needed for school. She needed to get out of here. It had been too long of a day. 

Even on her tip-toes, the book was too high for her to reach. Great. This day truly did have a vendetta against her.

Fortunately, there was a boy several inches taller than her who should be able to reach it down for her.

Sophie pursed her lips and debated whether or not she should say something. It was Keefe Sencen. The last person on earth that she should be asking for help, though she really needed that book. It had more information on D-day than would be in the textbook, and she was very adamant about not just looking it up online.

Her paper needed to be perfect, and she needed that book now if she wanted to be able to finish it in time to write her paper and write it well. 

“Hey, do you work here?” she settled on, ducking her head. He wasn’t looking at her, and she hoped that he would ignore that it was her. She really could not handle another disaster today. 

There was no need to make it more of an awful day than it already was.

Please, she thought. Don’t pay attention to that it’s me.

He turned just barely, a slightly dazed look in his eyes. He looked right past her like she wasn’t there.

“Kind of, I’m a volunteer,” he answered after a slightly long pause.

She stared at her feet. Being short was very much an inconvenience at times. “Can you get this book down for me?”

He glanced up, thankfully away from her. It didn’t seem like he even noticed it was her, which was weird, but frankly, she was too worn out to care. She just wanted to get the book and go. 

“It’s right there. Yeah, I can get it. No problem.”

His words were mechanical, like a robot, and he seemed lost in thought. He wasn’t acting like Keefe. No retorts, no harsh arguments, no jokes. Nothing. 

Whatever. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t care less about Keefe. 

It was just that she was naturally curious, and had a tendency to want to know what was going on. 

Something was going on with him, and she had a vague desire to know what it was. 

But she wasn’t going to do anything about it, because it didn’t matter. It was just Keefe, and she would rather do almost anything else than get involved with him in any way. 

He hated her.

As he lifted his arm to grab the book for her, more polite than she would have expected from him (Seriously, she would not have thought that he would volunteer in the library. It was probably just that he wanted the volunteer hours.), his hoodie lifted up slightly. 

Immediately, she averted her eyes, but something dark caught her eyes. 

It was a giant bruise on Keefe’s abdomen. 

Part of her was tempted to ask about it, but it wasn’t her place. 

Except that bruise looked really bad, a mottled purple that stained his skin. 

She opened her mouth to ask about it but shut it after a second. He would only get mad at her if she dared to ask. 

And besides, it was probably just that he had gotten hurt in football. 

Her hand darted out, and she almost touched it without even realizing what she was doing. 

Instantly, intense fear doused his face, and he scrambled away from her.

His hands folded around his stomach as he retreated, and he looked completely terrified.

“Keefe. What happened to you?” she blurted. The bruise aside, his reaction was wild. He looked like an animal with the crazed, fearful look that had so drastically changed his expression. 

There was a long pause before he answered, his eyes darting from side to side, then in an instant, any trace of fear was gone from his expression and he seemed to be yanked back to the present.

His startling blue eyes sharpened, and he stared at her coldly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She swallowed and felt a blush burn her cheeks. Even if he was acting strange, she was acting weirder. She should never have reached out to touch him. 

And it was none of her business, so she needed to let it go. 

But she couldn’t shake the sight of that wretched bruise from her mind. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted awkwardly. “Sorry. You were just acting kinda strange, but… yeah. I’ll just take my book now and go.”

He looked down at his hands where he was currently clenching her book. 

“Fine, whatever,” he muttered, roughly handing her the book. 

She grabbed it with an “oof” and nearly dropped it, but thankfully she managed to hold onto it. She was sure that he would tease her relentlessly if she had dropped it.

“Yeah, so, bye,” she continued, inwardly dying from her awkwardness. 

He said nothing and looked away from her.

For one last moment, her eyes dropped to the space where she knew his bruise resided on his skin. She shuddered and forced herself to look away.

Chapter Text

That was not going to happen again.

Like, ever.

Sophie finding him in the library was one thing. His pride had taken enough of a beating from just that. He had been so low he hadn’t even bothered to mess with her.

But he couldn’t believe he’d let her see his bruises.

How stupid was he?

Stupid, idiotic, worthless, the list went on.

But.

She’d not been completely and utterly disgusted by him.

Whenever his father found out that he had bruised, he wrinkled his nose like he couldn’t believe that Keefe had the audacity to have marks on him.

But Sophie hadn’t looked at him like that.

She’d looked, almost, concerned. For him, not because of him.

Huh.

He wasn’t used to anyone being concerned for him. He was still getting used to Elwin saying he felt that way about him.

He was especially not used to concern from a peer. As a stereotype, peers don’t understand him or his situation , to put it delicately.

There was no way Sophie understood his life.

He had seen the Ruewens before, they seemed like wonderful people. Of course, he knew all about seeming good and wonderful. His father was great at that.

So that didn’t guarantee that she didn’t have a life like his, but what did prove it was how she responded to them.

She would see them, smile, and hug them like it was the last time she would see them.

He might smile at his father occasionally, but Cassius did not hug anyone. Especially not Keefe.

Hugs were caring and vulnerable. Cassius was neither caring nor vulnerable.

So, he figured, Sophie will never understand the misery of his life. She had a perfect life and a perfect family.

He bet she had never even done something as trivial as crying herself to sleep at night.

It wasn’t fair.

All these other kids, living these perfect lives, with their perfect parents.

By all the stars, it wasn’t fair.

The next morning Keefe woke up feeling muddled. That was the best word for the thick, aching chaos inside his head.

He was used to this, he was anything but a morning person. He was used to the mornings feeling like he was dying on the inside.

He took a hot shower and got dressed quickly.

He stuffed his earbuds into his ears as he packed up and headed out of the house.

Honestly, listening to some of these songs was like showing himself the ugly parts of his soul. The stuff he’d rather not see, but they reminded him of the important things he had to remember if he was ever going to understand.

They reminded him that people with ugly souls were not worth loving.

Simple as that.

He nodded along to the lyrics he knew by heart, not because of the song, but because they were truly a part of him:

Do you ever get a little bit tired of life?

Like you’re not really happy, but you don’t wanna die.

Like you’re hangin’ by a thread, but you gotta survive?

‘Cause you gotta survive.

Like your body’s in the room, but you’re not really there.

Like you have empathy inside, but you don’t really care.

The song kept going, finally asking “ Am I past repair? ”.

Keefe couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt repairable.

Worthless people don’t get repaired.

He parked his car in the front of the school parking lot and revved it. He knew it wasn’t good for the engine but he couldn’t help it.

He wanted to show off. At least a little bit.

His dad had just bought him a rare Rimac Nevera.

Granted, the car had come with a heavy guilt trip, but it wasn’t like his dad was short on money.

Far from it.

And yet Cassius still made Keefe get a job.

It really was an amazing car though.

It had a horsepower of 1,888hp. He had no idea what that meant exactly, but he had looked up the car’s stats on the internet.

He didn’t really know much about the car other than the fact that it looked cool and it went really fast.

That was all that was really important anyway.

It had a max speed of 258 mph and it did a zero to sixty in 1.74 seconds.

The important thing was that it was fast and his absolute dream car. And as a bonus, the other kids liked it.

Which meant they also liked him, right?

Keefe stopped in front of the row of double doors.

This was it. Another week was beginning.

It was beyond hope that Sophie had forgotten what had happened over the weekend.

But maybe they could just go through their usual routine of ignoring each other. 

He didn’t think he had it in him to taunt her much anymore. Not when she had such a perfect blackmail opportunity hanging over him.

If anyone found out about those bruises or even worse, where they came from, there would be … He cut off his thought before it finished completely. Never mind. Let’s just say, that would definitely not be good.

He took a deep breath and forced a crooked smile before sauntering through the door.

He got to his locker and spun in his combination.

All he had to do was avoid Sophie, don’t let her talk to him about anything that happened on Friday, and avoid inevitable doom.

No big deal.

He was going to be fine.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sophie down the hall already eyeing him curiously. Oh great.

It’s going to be fine. He lied to himself. It’s not hard to ignore someone you don’t want to talk to. Just don’t talk to them, don’t look at them, and don’t think about talking to them.

Just ignore the fact that they had all of the classes in the world together. It would be fine.

Just smile. It’s going to be fine.

He dodged her all day. He didn’t look at her, didn’t talk to her. He almost made it.

He made it through the gym without a problem, gym was the one class where he didn’t have any competition with Sophie. He wasn’t trying to brag or anything but he was athletic.

He got through English, Math, and History. English was hard because he hadn’t had time to read the assignment because of some little thing his dad had freaked out about and there was a quiz on it.

But he forgot about biology. Stupid biology where he was desk partners with the one person in the entire school who hated his guts. Assigned seating stunk.

Oh joy.

He got in and took his seat. All he had to do was just not talk. Easy.

Then he looked over at the teacher’s desk and saw what they would be working on.

Fish.

Dead fish.

His stomach dropped,

He was going to throw up.

It wasn’t just the fact that it was dead and innocent. It also reeked. So badly.

But most of all, it reminded him of his father crunching into sardine, its cold, dead eyes watching Keefe from across the room.

He’d never liked sardines and thought caviar was equally cruel.

Eating dead things was just so sad, and slicing them open was no better.

He knew he had to do it though if he wanted to make the grade. His father would kill him if he got anything less than 100%.

He just hoped he wouldn’t actually have to be the one to cut it. To feel its skin collapse under the sharp blade of the scalpel. To feel the organs cling to the body as he attempted to wrench them out with pliers to view them.

He shuddered. Maybe he could take notes or something.

Sophie came in and Keefe quickly schooled his features.

Make a joke! His brain screamed. You can’t let her see how weak you are, then she’ll know you’re worthless too. You can’t even look at the fish without getting sick.

“These fish are looking sharp, Foster,” Keefe said, using her last name to address her. The less personal, the better.

The joke made his nausea feel a little better so he kept it up. “It’s a shame we have to empty its guts and study them.”

Sophie grinned at him and raised her eyebrows. What had he done wrong?

“What, are you afraid of fish guts?”

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

Why had he even spoken? He knew this was a bad idea.

He frowned at her, maybe she’d believe him. “I am not afraid of fish guts.”

Ignore. Just ignore.

He looked down to his book to hide his discomfort.

She was laughing at him.

What was wrong with him today?

He tuned back into the room in time to hear Mrs. Cadence announce, "Everyone! We're going to partner up for our first dissection. To make it easier since you've all become acquainted with one another over the last month, we'll be partnering up by desks. This person will be your biology partner for the rest of the year."

Keefe looked over at his 'desk mate' and groaned inwardly.

So much for ignoring her.

Chapter Text

“This fish is looking sharp, Foster,” Keefe intoned, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a shame we have to empty its guts and study them.” It was the first time she had heard him speak since they had been assigned as partners.

For all his bravado, Keefe’s voice wavered as he discussed emptying the guts of a fish. 

“What, are you afraid of fish guts?” she teased, raising her eyebrows. 

His smirk dropped, replaced by a deep frown. “I am not afraid of fish guts.”

He turned to his thick biology book, and he started flipping through the pages. 

Keefe was ignoring her. Again. 

She laughed out loud at the absurdity of it, drawing the eyes of the student at the desk in front of her. 

"Everyone! We're going to partner up for our first dissection. To make it easier since you've all become acquainted with one another over the last month, we'll be partnering up by desks. This person will be your biology partner for the rest of the year."

Sophie groaned.

Keefe Sencen was  officially her lab partner. Great. 

And he was ignoring her. She assumed that it had to do with her discovering his bruise. 

It wasn’t like they had been besties before, but they had often traded sarcastic remarks and rude taunts. (Usually by Keefe. She was bad at responding.)

“So…” She pursed her lips. “Are we going to go ahead and start the dissection?”

His face went noticeably pale. 

“You okay?” she asked. 

He nodded. 

“Okay,” she dragged out slowly. “Well, I’m going to go get our fish from the dissection table.”

His eyes widened, and again he gave a tight nod. 

When she came back with the dead fish on a plate, he scooted away and closed his eyes. 

It would have been funny to see him so squeamish, but it was kind of sad, in a way. 

He looked so pitiful. 

“You don’t like the dissections, do you?” she guessed.

He didn’t answer, a vacant stare in his eyes. 

For the rest of the class, he said nothing. He just stared. She didn’t bother pestering him about the dissection. If he was that freaked out, she could handle doing it by herself for once. But she couldn’t make a habit of it. 

As soon as the class was finished, she tapped his shoulder roughly which caused him to flinch in surprise. 

“Come on,” she told him. “We need to talk.”

He still didn’t say anything, just mindlessly packing his bag. 

“Come on,” she exclaimed, frustrated. “Stop ignoring me. Speak to me. Look at me.”

He froze. “I can’t.”

“You just did,” she pointed out.

His face shifted from the blank expression to his usual teasing smirk in an instant. “You just want to spend time with me, don’t you? So sweet. I’m sorry, though, Foster. I don’t like you that way.”

She frowned. “No, I want to talk to you about the project, you conceited brat.”

“Fine,” he agreed, as if it was the biggest burden. How could he act like that biology class had just completely not happened?

“Come on. We can go to the hallway by the stairs for just a moment.”

He shook his head slowly. “You just want to hang out with me, Foster. Don’t even try to deny it.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. You seem like you want to just hang out with me.”

In a bold moment, she grabbed his hand and led the way to the stairs. 

She tried to ignore the absurdity of holding his hand. 

After they left the room, he tightened his hand around hers, much to her surprise. 

As soon as they got to their location, they mutually let go. He even went as far as wiping his hands against his pants.

She assumed that they were going to pretend like this didn’t happen. That was getting pretty common between them.

“All right,” she said firmly. “What happened in there?”

“Nothing.”

She gave him a look. “Don’t you dare just say nothing. You know it isn’t nothing. You literally froze, and were spaced out for the majority of the class.”

“Fine.” He swallowed and blew out a long breath. “I don’t want to do this, okay? I really, really, really do not. What’s it to you?”

She contemplated what to say for a long moment. “It means nothing to me. Except, you know, that we’re lab partners, and that saddles me with all the work.”

His head dropped. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

For a moment she didn’t think she had heard him right. Keefe apologizing to her? Impossible. She must have heard it wrong. There simply was no way. 

“It’s okay,” she started. 

At the same time, he hurried to say, “I will do all the writing and stuff. All you have to do is cut it open and let me handle the rest.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to be able to handle looking at it?”

He inhaled sharply. “No. I guess not. Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she returned sarcastically. “Are you or are you not?”

He tapped his fingers against the back of his other hand. “No. I’m not. I already said that. I guess you’re just too…” His voice trailed off from his upcoming insult as he seemed to remember that he needed something from her. “Do you think maybe you can just tell me the results of it, or something, and I can write them down?”

Sophie felt bad for him. She really did. But… “I would basically be doing all the work,” she reminded him. “I don’t think that would be fair.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“What if I did this,” she suggested, “and you do some more of the other work? ‘Cause you don’t seem like you could even handle writing about it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

“Mrs. Cadence assigned us a lot of homework. And most of them are with partners. And she usually lets us pick.”

“You mean…”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll do most of this and for the weekly projects, you can do most of that work.”

He blinked. “That could work.”

“It could,” she agreed. 

Sophie bit her lip as she thought about how awkward it would be to work on projects with Keefe Sencen of all people. There would be no more of him ignoring her. He couldn’t. Not unless he did all of the assignments, which wouldn’t be fair, and Mrs. Cadence wouldn’t allow that anyway.”

“We can split it 60/40. This doesn’t take any of my outside-of-class time, so it’s not that bad. I can do the dissections, and write about them, and do the papers and at-home stuff she assigns about them. With a little done by you, so you won’t get in trouble.”

His gaze was beside her, and he specifically looked anywhere but her. “That wouldn’t be fair either. Mrs. Cadence has a lot more work than most biology teachers.”

“How do you know most biology teachers don’t give this much work?” Sophie countered. 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But either way, it’s a lot of work. It’s not just the dissections. For the weekly group projects, I can handle doing most of the work. 80/20.”

“70/30,” she argued. 

“Fine,” he agreed. “70/30. But if that ends up being unfair, we’ll have to change it. This is in addition to all the other homework.”

“That’s fine. So, my house or yours?”

He flinched. “Not my house!”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. Guess my house it is.”

There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher. “Why would I be going to your house?”

“Uh, so we can work on the projects together?”

“Why on earth would I want to be in more proximity with you, Foster?”

She had forgotten for a moment that he hated her. That she didn’t like him. 

“I would rather just do all the work,” he continued. “We’ll just divide it up, and do it on our own time.”
Her eyes pricked with the slightest beginning of tears, but she refused to give him a reaction. It didn’t matter. It was stupid to care. “When will we divide it up?”

“Give me your phone,” he ordered. 

She dug it out from her pocket and handed it over to him. “Why?”

“You should have said that before you handed it to me,” he pointed out. He swiped open her phone, and he effortlessly put in her passcode.

“How do you know my password?” she demanded. She made a mental note to switch it later. 

“That’s for me to know,” he told her, typing something into her phone. 

She waited with bated breath, worried about what he might do. He could do a lot of wretched things. 

“Here.” He handed her phone back to her, now open with a new contact that showed the name Mr. Fabulous Hair. “Now we can just text whatever we decide.”

“Okay.” She forced an awkward smile. “That works. We can text about it later, I guess.”

“I knew you just wanted to hang out with me,” he teased with a wink.

Chapter Text

Look at me, she’d said.

Instantly, his mind had gone back to all of the confrontations with his dad where he just wanted to escape. He’d just wanted to run.

He had closed his eyes so many times before.

But just because you can’t see the horrors of your life doesn’t mean they’re not there.

Stop it, his father had screamed. Look at me when I speak to you!

Keefe had just squeezed his eyes shut harder and shook his head from side to side.

He spoke out loud, “I can’t.” He stood still and waited, bracing himself.

Her voice shocks him back into reality and she says, “You just did.”

He didn’t know what she meant, but he was so extremely relieved to realize that it was Sophie who was talking to him that he grinned.

He made a joke, he didn’t remember it exactly. Sometimes jokes just came out when he was uncomfortable.

The joke must have worked because she frowned. “I want to talk to you about the project, you conceited brat.”

She was mad at him, but wasn’t that their collective goal? Just to make each other upset?

She thought he was conceited. If she only knew. The only reason he made jokes like that was to finally convince someone of his worth, even if it was himself. Maybe not his worth as a person, but at least as someone funny.

But Sophie knew.

She knew he wasn’t worth anything. She knew he was worthless, clueless, and now conceited apparently.

He was so clueless and worthless that he couldn’t even look at that dead fish without almost passing out.

Stupid, idiotic, brainless…

She grabbed his hand, effectively cutting through his thoughts.

She grabbed his hand!

His heart randomly fluttered.

Sophie Foster was holding his hand. Well, she did it to drag him under the staircase.

Psh, small details.

Anyway, Sophie let go and Keefe remembered just in time to not like her. He let go and made a show of wiping his hand off on his jeans.

Sophie was still mad at him. He heard her going on and he tried to fix it—tried to present a solution, but he couldn’t.

There was no getting around it. She and his father were right.

He pictured his father and Sophie both in front of him telling him what he already knew.

He looked down and his heart plummeted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She must hate him now.

But wasn’t that the goal? It was in the beginning, but not now.

He discussed which assignments they should each take on, knowing she would rather be partners with anyone else.

“My house or yours?” She looked at him quizzically.

Memories flashed before his eyes of his father on one of his rampages. He would scream and throw things—no one should experience something like that and even though Keefe didn’t particularly like Sophie, he couldn’t subject her to that either.

He flinched. “Not my house!”

She nodded. “Okay. Guess my house it is.”

He inwardly grimaced. That wasn’t much better.

Cassius got upset whenever he had to go somewhere with someone.

It didn’t matter much when, where, or with whom.

He tried to not-awkwardly back out of the arrangement but was that a tear shimmering in the corner of her eye?

He had made her cry?

Sophie Foster? Crying?

But she powered through it and tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

Keefe wanted to explain to her his plan but went for her phone instead. He entered her password—something he was very proud of himself for knowing.

He watched her too much. It was becoming a problem, if he wanted to truly be the best in his classes.

He entered his name as ‘Mr. Fabulous Hair’. Not too shabby.

He quickly glanced at her number and memorized it. He would add it to his phone later.

Keefe broke off the conversation with another joke. He enjoyed seeing Sophie blush.

Weird, he knew. But he couldn’t help it.

His fiercest rival was actually kind of adorable.

He sighed and pulled out his phone. He quickly entered her number into his phone along with the name, ‘Sprinkles’.

He sent a quick message to open a thread, “It’s me, hi.”

He enjoyed the humor of the song quote. It’d be funnier if he’d finished it, but he wasn’t sure she would get it over text.

He couldn’t use normal names for his contacts. Normal names were for losers. Weird names were for him.

Keefe walked into the solace of the library and awaited the smell of books to reach his nostrils.

This was perfection.

The smell of books was comforting and the feeling of being surrounded by sharp, even shelves was wonderful.

He enjoyed shelving books. It gave him a sense of order in the world.

When he finished shelving and had signed out, he walked outside to his car.

He blew out an exhausted breath, and leaned against the door.

He was ready to go to bed already. He couldn’t though, he still had to work.

Work. All these things I need to get done. His chest squeezed uncomfortably. I hate my life.

He sighed and got into his car.

The coffee shop wasn’t too far away and he pulled into his designated parking space.

It wasn’t officially designated yet, but he claimed it every shift he had so that had to count for something.

Keefe reached down and fished around in his glove box until—there! He pulled out his apron and nametag. He knew he left those in there.

He couldn’t leave them at home or Cassius would find out about his little side job.

Honestly, it was just for personal savings. He had everything he needed in the monetary sense, but it felt nice to have money that was his.

It was a long shift, and a steady line of customers came through all afternoon.

By the time his shift was over, his legs were killing him from standing so long, and his cheeks were throbbing from fake smiling too much.

It was ridiculous the kinds of things people order from a coffee shop, he mused on the drive home. One lady came in asking for a coffee with soft serve. He had to politely inform her that they did not carry ice cream products. She had then thrown a fit, and it had turned into a whole thing. Luckily, his manager liked him and was pretty chill about it.

Keefe pulled into his driveway and sighed. He was done. He was pretty sure if he laid down on his bed, he would be asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Biology. The term floated into his head. Crud.

He leaned his head onto the steering wheel and pressed into it, trying to get his head to stop pounding.

He pulled out his phone and went to text Biana, or Sparkles as he had dubbed her in his phone.

Dude. I’m gonna die. He used ‘dude’ for everyone, not just guys.

The response was immediate. What’s wrong?

He sent the crying emoji with tears falling off of its face. I have so much stuff to do! And I don’t think I’ll get it done in time! I’m going to fail at everything.

Again, the response came quickly. Do you want to come over and study together?

What? Why was Biana asking him to come over?

He looked at the contact name and felt a cold shiver run down his back.

He had texted Sprinkles not Sparkles.

Which meant Sophie had just invited him over to her house to study.

Sophie’s house.

What in the world?

Chapter Text

Do you want to come over and study together?

Sophie stared at the words, her throat feeling like it was closing up when it showed Keefe had read it. 

She closed her eyes and tried to will the words away. That was weird to say. It was beyond weird. She didn’t like him and he didn’t like her. Simple. 

“Why on earth would I want to be in more proximity with you, Foster?”

The memory of his previous words pounded in her mind. 

But… he had sounded really panicked in his messages. 

The question was, why had he sent the message to her? 

The three dots that had been constantly appearing back and forth as he typed during her panicked thoughts gave way to her answer. 

Oh! I didn’t mean to send that to you, Foster. I meant to send that to Biana. I was kidding. It’s an inside joke between us. It’s fine.

Sophie wasn’t expecting her eyes to burn all of the sudden. That was fine. It shouldn’t have made her feel disappointed and it especially shouldn’t be to the point of making her want to cry. She had been close to crying earlier too. She had to pull it together. 

Are you sure? she sent back. I still think we should study together. 

Another agonizing pause passed before he answered. 

It’s fine. 

Sophie inhaled sharply as a reckless thought came to mind. Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking violently, and she thought she might throw up. 

Her index finger hovered over the call button at the top… 

…And then she pressed it. 

Her eyes widened as the loud ringtone tore through the room, breaking the silence that surrounded her.

She jammed her finger against the hang-up button, but in her panic, she hit the wrong button and clicked on the keypad instead. 

Before she could actually click on the hang-up button, she heard a soft, “Hello?”

Sophie held back her scream. 

“Hi,” she choked out squeakily, her voice breathy. 

“Is everything alright?” Keefe Sencen asked and her heart fluttered annoyingly—from nerves, she was sure.

She cleared her throat. “Yup. Yeah. Definitely!”

“Okay…” Keefe said slowly. “So—”

“Wait!” she interrupted, her heart pounding so loudly that she was concerned Keefe could hear the insistent thud. “Yeah. Yes. Something is wrong. I mean, not like wrong. It’s fine. Not fine. Not like for me—”

“Breathe, Sophie,” Keefe cut in. She heard him say something in a quieter voice that sounded like, “I need less cute enemies.”

“What, what did you say? I didn’t hear that.” Whatever she had heard, she had heard wrong. 

Keefe paused for a moment and she was reminded yet again how stupid this was. “I said I need less cute hair. ‘Cause it got in my face. But, like, I was joking. To myself. Anyway, what is wrong?”

Sophie inhaled sharply. “Okay. So you sounded pretty freaked out in your message—”

“No, I didn’t,” Keefe argued, his voice low. “I was not. And it’s none of your business.”

She swallowed. “I know. I know that. But I still think that it would strongly benefit you—benefit the both of us if you came over and we worked on Biology for a little bit.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sop— Foster. You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing me for more time or else you’d fall for me. If you haven’t already.”

Sophie snorted. “As if. Please, Keefe? I just want to get it over with and I think it would be better if we were working on it together.”

“Fine,” he said quietly. 

“Wait, what? Fine? Uh. Okay. You can come over now I guess.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoed. She hung up on him before the words could fully get out, panic threatening to take over. 

She hadn’t seriously done that. 

Had she?

Wow Foster. Hanging up on me? Is my voice that charming?

She had. 

Oh crap.

She had really done that. 

Her phone buzzed again but she refused to look, throwing her phone in her impulse. It clattered against the ground and she was sure there would be a new crack but she couldn’t focus on that right now. 

Keefe was coming over. 

To her house. 

It was probably just a dream. Right? Sophie let out a slightly maniac laugh. Right? 

Well, the text messages she saw when she picked up her phone proved her otherwise. 

She reread the entire conversation, seriously contemplating blocking him. But they had to work together on homework. So no blocking him. Even if it was entirely embarrassing that she had just invited him over. 

Keefe would be there really soon. Oh fiddlesticks. 

“Mom!” she called, hurrying out of her room. “A boy from my school will be coming over soon. We’re lab partners.”

Edaline raised her eyebrows. “Oh? A boy?”

Sophie blew out a breath. “He’s just a friend, Mom.” A lie, technically. Not because they were dating but because there was no universe in which they were friends. 

“Well, hurry up and clean the bathroom before he gets over here. And you can do homework in the living room.”

“Where’s Dad?” Sophie could already feel the teasing he would have ready. Edaline would be bad enough. 

“He’s at work tonight. He decided to take an extra shift.”

“Oh, how come?”

Edaline pursed her lips. “I’m not sure.”

Well, her mom was definitely sure, but Sophie decided against pushing it. She didn’t have time. 

“Can you stay in another room?” she asked. 

Edaline smiled. “Afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

“Yes,” Sophie admitted. 

“I’ll stay in the kitchen or dining room as long as you stay in the living room.” At Sophie’s grateful smile, she added, “Now, go clean the bathroom.”

Sophie had just finished tidying up the bathroom when she heard a loud knock. He was here. She might have thrown up if she wasn’t worried about making the freshly cleaned bathroom dirty. 

She shoved the supplies in the cabinet, making a mental note to put them in the proper spot later as she hurried to the door. 

It was so wrong to see Keefe at her house. 

Regardless, she forced a tight-lipped smile and let him in. 

Edaline smiled hugely when she saw him, casting a look to Sophie. “Now, why you are a handsome young man.”

“Mom!” Sophie said, feeling her cheeks get hot. 

Keefe smirked at her, raising his eyebrows. “You’re blushing,” he whispered.

“I blush at everything,” she retorted quietly. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” he agreed, seemingly unconvinced. 

Edaline looked back and forth between the two of them. “Well, I’ll leave you alone now. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

“Sorry about that,” Sophie said after Edaline left.

“No need,” Keefe responded, and his voice sounded strange. 

“We can sit down I guess.” Sophie gestured to the couch and started pulling the biology homework from her backpack. Keefe followed her example and they placed all of it on the coffee table. 

She bit her lip, glancing at their pile. It contained all their thick biology books and pages of homework and notebooks and honestly it was kind of overwhelming. 

“Okay, so outside of the dissection stuff which I can handle, we have the sheets that we need to fill out and we need three different drawings of families with explanations behind their looks.”

“I can do the drawing,” Keefe offered. “I like… Um, never mind.” Sophie frowned at his unusual awkwardness, but she forced herself to ignore it. 

“You can do the drawings and send me the pictures and I’ll write the descriptions.”

Keefe laughed awkwardly. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay, so you can do that later, and we can start on the sheet now. You start at the top and I’ll work from the bottom of this section.”

Keefe raked a hand through his hair, making it look somehow better than before. Sophie felt a twinge in her stomach. She hated him. A lot. It was not fair that he was so effortlessly perfect. 

“I don’t really know most of these answers. I haven’t read through the chapter at all,” he confessed. 

Sophie’s eyes drew together. “Then what were you doing in class?”

“That’s none of your business,” he told her, swallowing. 

She nodded slightly. “Okay. That’s fine. Everything’s fine. Look, we can just go over the stuff first. It’s pretty simple. Then we can work on the questions together.”
Keefe sighed, burying his face in his hands for a short moment. “Okay.”

Concern drifted through her. He seemed so tired. Shoving the thought aside, she explained, “Okay, currently we’re going over DNA. I assume you know that much. It’s kind of hard to get at first but once properly explained it’s pretty simple. Ms. Cadence is really bad at explaining things.”

“Do you mind the DNA?” Keefe interrupted. “Like learning about it.”

Sophie felt her lips dip into a frown. “Why?”

“Because, you’re, you know…” He trailed off, gesturing to her. 

“Adopted?” At his hesitant nod, she answered, “Not really. I mean it’s a little weird. And I want to know about my birth parents, but I’m not really comparing it to myself a lot. So it’s not a big deal. I more think of it with book characters. Like have you watched or read Harry Potter?”

Keefe nodded again. 

“Well, his dad has black hair which is dominant and his mom has red hair which is recessive. Dominant hair is usually the one that carries. Although recessive can carry to a grandchild. Like Ginny’s hair is red and Harry’s mom’s hair was red, and both of Ginny’s parents had red hair, so statistically at least a few of their kids should have red hair even though Harry had black hair.”

“But Harry has black hair because his dad has black hair?” Keefe clarified. 

Sophie smiled. “See? You’re getting it. It’s super simple. If you’re taking AP Biology, then you should be able to understand that. It’s the same thing with eye colors. Blue is recessive and brown is dominant. What do your parents look like?”

Keefe visibly flinched, closing his eyes. She didn’t think he was going to answer and she almost apologized. But then he spoke. “Blond hair. Blue eyes.”

“Both of them?”

“Both of them,” he clarified. “I think. I haven’t seen my mother in a long time.”

“Oh,” Sophie said dumbly. “Uh—”

“It’s fine. Moving on.”

She took his cue and gestured to the several page long answer sheet. “Okay, we can start working on this. I’ll do the first few and you can watch and then we can split it from there.”

“I’m not stupid,” he said abruptly. 

“Oh. Um. Yeah, I knew that.”

He blew out a breath. “I mean, I don’t know, I am kind of stupid. I accidentally texted you. And I’m saying way too much but I’m so stinking tired and I can’t bring myself to shut up even though I know I really, really need to. But I do understand biology. And DNA and stuff. Kind of. I would. I just have been struggling to keep up with biology on top of all my other homework and my job and volunteer hours and everything.”

She didn’t think she had heard so much come from his mouth in a row ever. At least not to her. And especially not something that didn’t have to do with insulting her. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushed to say before she could respond. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll just be better. Get around to doing this. We’re stuck as lab partners it seems and I won’t let you do all of the work.”

She blinked. “That’s… Okay. Yeah. You, um, you don’t have to be better—”  

“It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

Well, this had been a strange day. Keefe Sencen had ranted to her and she was helping him out with homework and they had basically had a heart to heart and… 

…what the heck was happening to her life?

She was talking to Keefe freaking Sencen. The guy she hated. 

Clearing her throat, she started on the first problem which was way too complicated and in depth and so much more complicated than what she had explained to Keefe. 

They did some problems together, but Keefe was blinking rapidly, and she couldn’t bring herself to make him do more work. He could help more later. But he seemed really out of it. 

“I think the answer is B,” she concluded to a specific problem. “What do you think?” she confirmed, looking up. 

The sight she saw was not what she would have expected. Keefe was asleep. On her couch. 

Momentarily her breath was taken away at the sight of him. His hair had fallen slightly over his face and she extended her hand, brushing it away before she could think better of it. 

He looked so innocent in his sleep. So young. She smiled softly, watching him sleep so peacefully compared to the wreck he had been only half an hour ago. 

She took the blanket folded on the side of the couch and draped it over him, returning silently to the problems on the paper, getting through most of them in the next hour or so. She lost track of time, letting the work take over her mind. The only thing that brought her out of her studies was the occasional (frequent) glance at Keefe. 

It wasn’t her fault he was so precious-looking while sleeping. His mouth hung open slightly and she contemplated for the briefest of moments to close it for him but touching his lips was too much. 

Everything about him just looked so much softer in his sleep. She couldn’t make herself hate him while he was sleeping. 

She swallowed and looked back at the homework, but all she could think about was him. Hmph. He better get out of her head or else she would start making him pay rent. 

Not that she would ever let him know if she was thinking about him. That sounded like the most mortifying thing ever. 

As a small sound escaped Keefe’s mouth, Sophie contemplated waking him up. He likely would not be happy. But she really didn’t want to have to wake him up while he looked so peaceful. 

“Would you like anything to eat, Keefe?” Edaline called from the kitchen after some time. 

Keefe jerked awake and there was true panic in his eyes as he blinked. Desperation left a choked expression on his face. “Where am I? Oh crap. Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap.”

“It’s fine. Most of the problems are done. You can finish up the rest and we’ll be even.”

“Crap,” Keefe muttered, pushing himself up, the blanket falling to the floor as he shoved everything into his backpack. “What time is it?”

She glanced at the clock. “8:30.”

Keefe’s face looked ghostly as he slung his backpack and hurried toward the door.

She followed him. “Why the rush?”

“I should have left already,” was all he said before exiting the door.

Chapter Text

Keefe could not believe it.

He was at Sophie Foster’s house.

He never in a million years thought it would lead to this.

First of all, he wasn’t sure if he would even be breathing by the end of that texting conversation.

He read the words, Do you want to come over and study together?

His heart shot up in his throat. His fingers flew over the keys.

He typed out a reply, Since when do you care about my grades, Foster? 

Delete.

He didn’t want to be too mean.

Sure, they were enemies. But being personally responsible for upsetting her felt like a punch to the gut.

He could imagine her on the other side of the phone, her brown eyes going soft like they did when she was hurt.

His fingers flew again, Oh! I didn’t mean to send that to you, Foster. I meant to send that to Biana. I was kidding. It’s an inside joke between us. It’s fine.

Send.

He blew out a breath. He did it. It didn’t sound horribly awkward. It was fine.

Totally fine.

The phone buzzed in his hand. He squeaked and dropped the phone on the car mat beneath him.

She had texted him back.

He picked up the phone and read the message from the lock screen.

She was asking if he was sure? Of course he wasn’t sure.

I still think we should study together.

What was she aiming for?

He had to admit, she was brave. After all, he had told her many times of his general dislike for her. (It may be a lie but whatever. Did that matter if no one knew? Nope.)

Focus. He ordered himself. Don’t get distracted by blondes with soft brown eyes.

It’s fine.

Boom. The text bubbles disappeared. He did it. Was it weird that he felt a little sad about that?

It was kind of sweet that she was so worried about him.

The phone rang in his hand, startling him again. She was calling him.

She.

Was.

Calling.

Him.

He sighed. He slid the green phone icon to the right, answering the call.

He held it up to his ear and spoke softly. “Hello?”

He heard a distinct squeak on the other end, and her voice came out high-pitched. “Hi.”

Was she okay? She had never called him before. Well, obviously. But he remembered her saying she didn’t like to call people. “Is everything alright?”

He heard her clear her throat and smiled to himself.

“Yup. Yeah. Definitely.” So she was lying to him. But why?

“Okay…” he drew out the syllables. “So—” He pulled his phone away from his ear, looking at the display.

Twenty three seconds.

He heard a panicked sound and brought the phone back to his face. 

“Something is wrong.” His heart lurched.

“I mean, not like wrong. It’s fine. Not fine. Not like for me—”

Was she okay? He should not be this worried. She had people she could go to besides him. It was fine. She was fine. She had to be fine.

He inhaled slowly, “Breathe Sophie.”

He heard her take a soft intake of breath. He sighed. I need less cute enemies.

“What, what did you say? I didn’t hear that.”

Crap. His cheeks heated up. Did she hear me say that? The heat spread to his ears.

He opened his mouth, and closed it again. How was he going to explain this? 

He had to try, it sounded like she was holding her breath to hear what he was going to say. “I said I need less cute hair. ‘Cause it got in my face. But, like, I was joking. To myself. Anyway, what’s wrong?”

“Okay. So you sounded pretty freaked out in your message—”

Ice shot up his spine. “No I didn’t. I wasn’t. And it’s none of your business.”

He wasn’t allowed to be freaked out. He had too much to do, too much to handle. Freaking out was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Blood rushed in his ears as he listened to her. She was suggesting they work together.

Outside of school.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sop— Foster. You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing me for more time or else you’d fall for me. If you haven’t already.”

He held the phone away from his mouth as he bent over and took a deep breath. He couldn’t call her Sophie. He needed to not think about her falling for him.

It was too much to hope for.

He needed to shut up.

Through his calm and not panicked breathing he heard two words.

Please Keefe?

How does anyone say no to that?

He exhaled the breath he was holding. He almost whispered, “Fine.”

He took another deep breath. This was fine.

After she squeaked out a few more words, she hung up.

He smirked and texted her, Wow Foster. Hanging up on me? Is my voice that charming?

Now he had to get ready to go over to her house.

Her house.

Clearly he didn’t act like he hated her well enough. There was a reason he wasn’t in a drama class.

Well great. He reached down and turned the key in the ignition.

If you can’t beat ‘em…

When he got to the Ruewen’s house, Edaline greeted him with ‘handsome young man’. He caught Sophie’s eye and she blushed.

Edaline promised to wait in the other room and Keefe wondered what it was like to have a mom who would wait in the other room when people came over.

He wondered what it would be like to have a mom at all. His chest tightened.

”Sorry about that.”

“No need,” he choked out.

The rest of their time passed by in a blur. At one point, Sophie asked him what his parents looked like and he had to squeeze out his answer past the lump in his throat.

Might share a face and share a last name but we are not the same.

But when they sat down to do the worksheet, Keefe had to admit something. “I don’t really know most of these answers. I haven’t read through the chapter at all.”

Her eyebrows wrinkled, “Then what were you doing in class?”

He swallowed, “That’s none of your business.”

The thing is, his photographic memory always carried him through with a solid A+. The only problem is during everything that he had to do this week, he hadn’t had a chance to glance over the textbook or his class notes.

So much for looking smart in front of Sophie.

He listened patiently as Sophie explained, wishing his head didn’t hurt so much.

He really needed to sleep more.

She offered for him to watch her do the sheet and then start on it himself. He could hear his dad saying that he was an absolute failure.

Wanting to defend himself, Keefe blurted, “I’m not stupid.”

Well that was helpful. He tried to explain but the words coming out of his mouth weren’t making a lot of sense.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, then ran his hands through his hair. His eyelids were getting heavy.

He bent over the worksheet, trying to make sense of the words in front of him. He marked down the answers when Sophie called them out but his eyes were stinging.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt so much better now. So warm and comfortable. He felt a hand brush across his forehead.

You’re so sweet asleep.

Did he imagine the whispered words? He couldn’t tell.

He clung to the warm feeling enveloping him. It was better than—what was he doing before? He couldn’t remember.

Ah well.

He was at home. Drawing something at his desk. What was it? Of course, Foster’s face was peeking at him from the paper.

He jumped when he heard a door slam. His father burst into the room. Keefe gasped.

Cassius burst forward and attacked the drawings on the desk and on the wall.

Keefe watched as all of this year’s drawings were torn to shreds.

A faint voice stirred his consciousness.

Suddenly, it broke through. “Would you like anything to eat Keefe?”

His eyes snapped open. Where was he?

It all came crashing back. The contact swap, the invitation to Sophie’s house, the homework. 

Oh crap crap crap.

He started throwing everything into his backpack.

He froze, “What time is it?”

Sophie’s answer came through his panic. “8:30.”

Keefe’s lungs promptly stopped working. All of the blood rushed out of his head but he didn’t have time to sit down.

He rushed towards the front door, berating himself for being so stupid.

“Why the rush?” He might have laughed at such a ridiculous question but he had to go.

“I should’ve left already.” Was all he said before flying out the door.

All the way home he cursed himself. He was never supposed to be out this late unless it was at the Vacker’s house. Even that was a stretch.

He pulled into the driveway, and pulled the car into park.

His heart was beating wildly as he walked up the porch steps. He opened the door as quietly as he could.

He slipped off his shoes and winced when they made the tiniest squeak as they slid onto the floor.

“Keefe? Get in here!” His heart shot up into his throat.

He stepped very slowly, very softly into the kitchen. Cassius was sitting at the kitchen table.

He looked at Keefe with contempt. “What are the rules about leaving this house after school?”

Keefe swallowed. “Be back by 8,” he whispered.

“And what time is it?”

His voice came quieter this time if that was possible. “9.”

“That’s right. Do you care to explain what you’re doing out until 9pm?”

“I was doing biology homework at Foster’s house and I lost track of time and—”

“Do you think I care to hear your excuses, boy?”

“No sir.”

“That’s right. Now clean this place up.”

Keefe breathed a sigh of relief. This wasn’t so bad, he could do this.

But Cassius wasn’t done.

As he passed Keefe, he shoved him into the cabinet and glared down at him. “Don’t let me hear about you and this girl again, do you hear me? She doesn’t like you because you are nothing. She’s just using you to get ahead. You better keep getting those grades, boy. With everything I give you, you better never get anything lower.”

He leaned in and growled in Keefe’s ear. “Don’t you ever let that witch get higher than you, understand?” He grabbed Keefe’s arms so hard Keefe could already feel bruises coming.

Cassius stalked away and slammed his way into his room.

Keefe let out a quiet sob. There was no point. Why did he think he had a chance with her anyway?

She had better people in her life that she could befriend than him. He was a failing mess. She’d be better off inviting all of them to her house.

Keefe flinched. His father’s words had a hard truth in them.

She didn’t need him in her life.

The sooner she realized that, the better.

He had to get it together. He had to act the part. They were enemies.

He just hoped his heart wouldn’t fall apart with a glimpse of those brown eyes.

Chapter Text

“You know,” Stina giggled to her friend, “I’m so glad I’m not short.”

Sophie paused. Keep on going, she muttered mentally. She’s just doing it to get to you.

But she couldn’t get herself to move as Stina continued, like she was a deer caught in headlights. 

“Like could you just imagine?” Stina continued. Her friend was a pretty redhead who was probably around 5’8. “Some kids in our grade are so short. Like seriously, it’s like their bodies didn’t get the memo that they are in high school now. In my opinion, being short makes you so ugly.”

Her friend laughed. “Don’t be so mean, Stina. You’re totally right, though. Like that girl you don’t like, Sophie, she’s so short. She literally looks like she’s a child.”

Move, a voice in Sophie’s head whispered. She had to move. But she was frozen. 

Did she really look so much like a child? 

She was a year younger than everyone else since she had skipped a grade, so naturally she would look a little younger. But a child?

Stina snorted. “Yeah, I know, right? It literally makes her look so disproportionate.”

She had finished gathering her stuff from her locker, and she and her friend moved closer where Sophie was standing like a garden gnome, eavesdropping. 

“Oh hi, Sophie,” Stina said with feigned enthusiasm. “You’re looking so… pretty today.”

To Sophie’s mortification, she felt her eyes burn with tears as she took a step back. Nonononono. Crying would make it so much worse. 

But her eyes didn’t listen to her panicked thoughts as tears spilled over, dripping down her cheeks and onto her gray shirt.

Crap. 

This could not seriously be happening.

Her clothes had obvious tear drops, so she couldn’t hide them. It wasn’t raining. There was nothing she could do. 

Not to mention the fact that she was crying right now in front of Stina Heks. 

She looked away, swiping her eyes. 

Stina placed a hand on her shoulder, and Sophie flinched. “Oh Sophie,” she said with sickening sweetness. “Sophie, oh, I’m so, so sorry. What on earth happened?”

“Nothing,” Sophie forced out, trying to pull away from Stina’s grasp, but Stina just tightened her grip. 

“You can continue without me, Charlotte,” Stina told her friend. “Save me a seat, would you?”

Charlotte must have been a grade above Sophie because she hadn’t met her before. 

But despite never having met her, Sophie needed her to stay desperately. 

She couldn’t be alone with Stina. 

“Of course,” Charlotte said, tossing a sympathetic look at Sophie that she guessed was probably fake. 

Sophie sniffled. “Leave me alone.”

Stina’s eyebrows creased. “Now why would I do that for? I can’t just leave a girl crying all by herself.”

“Leave me alone,” Sophie repeated. 

Stina’s concerned look dropped. “You’re so weak, Sophie. Seriously. I’m ashamed to be in the same school as you. Maybe you are a child.”

Her nails dug into Sophie’s shoulder, and despite Sophie’s best effort, she couldn’t stop several more tears from falling as she held back a choked sound. 

“I’m not a child,” she whispered pitifully. Her face was probably red and puffy. Several kids passed them, looking at them in concern, but Stina waved them on as she pulled Sophie in for a hug that made Sophie’s skin crawl. 

“I’ll have to see you again later when we’re alone,” Stina whispered into her ear. She wasn’t very good at whispering, so it was painfully loud. “To see if you’re okay, of course,” she added sweetly. 

Sophie was pulled away from Stina’s embrace by a new, strong hand on her shoulder. She let out a small sound as she stumbled against a firm body. 

Looking up, she was met with Keefe’s face. Keefe Sencen’s face. 

KEEFE FREAKING SENCEN’S FACE.

But he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was focused firmly ahead at Stina’s face. “I heard what you said about Sophie. She is beautiful, and her height doesn’t change that. Leave her alone.”

Stina’s lip curled. “What are you going to do?”

“There are lots of things I will do if you don’t leave her alone, and none of them are appropriate to say out loud here.”

Stina rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She sauntered away, but Sophie detected a slight hint of fear. 

As Keefe looked down at her, concern and something else crinkling his face, she realized that she was basically hugging him. He had one arm wrapped around her, and she was leaning against his chest. 

She pulled away, hardly able to breathe. Keefe let her go easily, and she could have sworn his cheeks were pink. Less pink than hers, she noted, based on how hot her cheeks felt. The heat spread from her cheeks to her neck and all the way down her arms. 

She had just made a fool of herself in front of her two worst enemies. 

Of all the days for Dex to be absent. But, she thought gratefully, at least he wasn’t hurt. 

“Thank you,” she blurted, realizing that there had been silence for way too long, only making it worse by her obviously staring at him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked at the same time. 

“You’re welcome,” he answered hastily. “It’s really no big deal. I would help anyone, even if I didn’t like them.”

Sophie stepped back. Of course. They didn’t like each other. She really needed to stop forgetting that. It was becoming quite an inconvenience. 

“You have…” He gestured to her face. “On your face.”

She frowned, wiping at her cheeks. “Well, gee, that’s helpful.”

“No… You… That…” He seemed unable to speak, unusually flustered. He shut his eyes and sighed, opening them as he reached his hand forward awkwardly. “I’ll get it.”

Sophie didn’t move, didn’t even breathe as he brushed his hand against her cheek. 

He stepped back. “You had an eyelash,” he explained.

She swallowed. “Thanks.” She groaned. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m already late for class, and I don’t have time to go to the bathroom and wash my face and let my shirt dry.”

“It really doesn’t look that bad,” he said awkwardly. “Your face looks fine. It’s not still red or anything. And your shirt will dry soon.”

“Yeah but not soon enough,” she countered. “I don’t care if it doesn’t look that bad. I don’t want anyone to know I was crying.”

She closed her eyes and tried to forget for a moment that she was right here. 

Keefe cleared his throat and handed her something warm. She opened her eyes and saw his hoodie.

“Here, you can wear this until your shirt dries. You can just give it back to me later.”

She squeaked. “Keefe! You can’t just do that! That’s more suspicious. We’re, like, enemies or whatever.”

Keefe smiled, though it seemed a little off compared to normal. “Oh, Foster. I love starting gossip. You’re going to have to get used to that.”

Sophie’s cheeks burned. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything cruel to him after how much he helped her, like they had a temporary truce despite their rivalry. But she couldn’t let this happen. 

They would seem like friends, or— Nope, she wasn’t going to finish that thought. 

“I hate you,” she mumbled as she slipped his warm hoodie on. “You’re full of it, you know. You can’t just help a girl to start gossip.”

He gasped dramatically. “Foster. I would never. I pride myself on being the hottest guy in school, and everyone knows hot guys are hotter if they save people. I’m, like, Prince Charming right now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m glad my inconvenience can help with your hotness.”

He winked. “It was my pleasure.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I've got to get to class. I’m going to be so late.”

She hurriedly walked in the direction of her class. Keefe cleared his throat. “Yeah, um, I know. We go to the same class.”

Sophie grimaced. “Ugh. That’s going to cause even more rumors if we walk into class together.”

Keefe shrugged. “Anything for the rumors.”

She forced herself not to look at him, but thoughts were rushing through her brain. They walked in painful silence, but after only a few seconds, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you talking to me?” she blurted.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve been ignoring me for the last while. You’ve not been answering any of my messages, and you’ve been just doing the homework I tell you to do and turning it in. You have only spoken when I spoke first.” 

She spoke really fast in one breath.

He shrugged, looking away from her. “I’ve not been ignoring you. I’ve just been busy. And I thought it was best to act less like enemies if we have to work together.”

“Not being enemies doesn’t mean not talking ever. I still want to talk to you. You know, for educational purposes. It’s a lot harder to be partners if you’re hardly speaking to me.”