Four Of A Kind

Chapter 125: [3.27] A Not-Date Tea Thing

The final homeroom bell pulled me from a half-sleep state that had become my default setting throughout the day. My notebook page remained empty except for a single doodle of what might have been a cat or possibly a malformed cloud. Even I wasn’t sure what I’d been attempting to draw.

Mr. Patterson cleared his throat at the front of the classroom, and for the first time in living memory, he closed his fantasy novel without marking his page. A collective gasp rippled through 3-A. This was serious business.

“Listen up,” he called, his voice carrying an unusual edge of enthusiasm that made several students exchange worried glances. “I’m announcing extra credit opportunities for anyone willing to come in on Saturdays to help with decorations for the festival.”

Felix elbowed me. “Extra credit? You don’t need that.”

“Maybe I just want to build maid cafés out of the goodness of my heart,” I whispered back.

“Sure you do,” he snorted. “Nothing to do with four certain sisters who’ll definitely be there.”

I ignored him, focusing instead on Patterson’s increasingly agitated instructions.

“And ladies,” Patterson continued, his eye twitching slightly, “when picking out costumes, please make them appropriate.” He scanned the classroom with the haunted look of a man who’d seen things he couldn’t unsee in previous years. “Do not ask me what I mean by that. You have enough common sense to use context clues. If you wouldn’t wear it to go trick-or-treating with your little siblings, then don’t wear it. Any questions?”

A hand shot up from the back row. Marin Tanigawa, Harlow’s friend twirled a strand of bleached hair around her finger and smiled innocently. “Is being a sexy nun allowed?”

“How can a nun be—” Patterson stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. Anything with the word ’sexy’ in it is not allowed.”

“But—”

“Not. Allowed.”

“That’s stupid,” Marin huffed.

“Damn kids,” Patterson muttered, just loud enough for the front row to hear. He quickly shook his head and adopted what I assumed was his attempt at an authoritative expression. “Let’s switch gears. I have your progress reports.”

The classroom atmosphere shifted instantly from festival excitement to academic dread. Even I sat up straighter, though I wasn’t particularly concerned about my own grades.

“Remember,” Patterson continued, shuffling papers on his desk, “this is just a snapshot of the first month of school. You still have until November 2nd to either rise or fall with your grades. When I call your name, come up.”

He began calling students alphabetically. I watched as my classmates trudged to the front, their expressions ranging from delighted to devastated as they received their academic fates.

“Beaumont, Felix.”

Felix bounced up from his seat and practically skipped to the front. When Patterson handed him his report, Felix’s eyes widened and he pumped his fist in the air.

“I did that shit!” he exclaimed, earning a half-hearted “Language” from Patterson, who was already looking at the next card.

Felix returned to his seat, beaming. “B+ average, baby! Hello, new Porsche!”

“Angelo, Isaiah.”

I made my way to the front, nodding politely as Patterson handed me my report. Straight A’s across the board. I nodded again, satisfied. At least the Valentine chaos hadn’t impacted my academic performance.

As I returned to my seat, I glanced toward the front of the room where the Valentine twins sat. Harlow was staring at her card with a small frown, her usually buoyant energy dampened slightly. She tucked a strand of pink-tipped hair behind her ear and sighed. Next to her, Cassidy was gripping her report so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her shoulders trembled visibly, and she seemed to be making a concentrated effort not to tear the paper in half.

“Valentine, Cassidy.”

Patterson’s voice made her jump. She glared at him. “You already gave me my card.”

“I’m aware. I need to see you after class.”

The flush that spread across Cassidy’s cheeks was painful to watch. She sank lower in her seat, her eyes fixed firmly on her desk.

Harlow immediately leaned over, wrapping an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” I heard her whisper. “We’ll figure it out together. We can study more, and you’ve been doing so well with Isaiah’s tutoring lately!”

Cassidy shrugged her off, but Harlow persisted with the stubborn optimism that characterized everything she did.

“Your last quiz was way better! And you totally understood that quadratic formula yesterday. This is just a snapshot, remember? Not the final picture.”

Felix noticed my attention drifting toward the Valentine sisters and smirked. “Something interesting over there?”

“Just wondering how everyone did,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

“Sure, sure.” Felix nodded knowingly. “Totally professional interest.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re so full of shit,” he laughed. “But hey, at least you’re getting an A in denial.”

The bell rang before I could respond, saving me from having to defend myself further. Students rushed out, eager to start their weekend. I packed up slowly, watching as Cassidy remained frozen in her seat, her report card still clutched in her hands. Harlow hovered nearby, clearly torn between staying with her sister and following the crowd out.

I caught Harlow’s eye and gave her a look that I hoped conveyed “let me talk to her.”

She seemed to understand immediately, nodding slightly before gathering her things. “I’ll wait for you outside,” she told Cassidy softly, then headed for the door.

Patterson had already retreated to his desk, reopening his fantasy novel and effectively removing himself from the situation. The classroom emptied until only Cassidy and I remained.

I approached her desk cautiously, like you might approach a wounded animal that still had enough strength to bite.

“So,” I said, leaning against the desk beside hers. “Progress reports, huh?”

“Go away,” she muttered, still not looking up.

“I could do that,” I agreed. “But then who would help you turn that grade around?”

She finally lifted her head, her purple eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and what might have been embarrassment. “I failed, okay? Are you happy now? I got a D in math and a C- in Chemistry. I’m officially the stupid Valentine.”

“Those are just letters,” I said with a shrug.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Straight A’s.” She folded the report card roughly and shoved it into her bag. “And before you start with the ’you can do better’ speech, save it. I’ve heard it from seven tutors, twenty-three teachers, and my mother about a thousand times.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

She paused, suspicious. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask if you want to get bubble tea.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

I shrugged again. “Because bubble tea makes everything better.”

“That’s stupid,” she said, but there was less venom in her voice.

“Maybe. But have you ever stayed angry while drinking taro milk tea with extra pearls? It’s scientifically impossible.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across her face before she suppressed it. “I’m still going to be a failure whether I have bubble tea or not.”

“True,” I nodded. “But you’ll be a failure with bubble tea, which is objectively better than a failure without bubble tea.”

She stared at me for a long moment, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But I’m not talking about my grades.”

“Deal.”

We walked out of the classroom together, drawing curious glances from the few students still lingering in the hallway. Harlow was waiting by the lockers, scrolling through her phone. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“You guys want to go to that new crepe place?” she asked, bouncing on her toes. “I heard they have strawberry ones with extra whipped cream!”

“Isaiah’s taking me for bubble tea,” Cassidy said, then immediately flushed as she realized how that sounded. “I mean, we’re getting bubble tea. Separately. But at the same time.”

“Like a tea date?” Harlow asked, her eyes widening innocently.

“It’s not a date,” Cassidy snapped. “It’s a… tea… thing.”

“A tea thing,” I repeated.

“Shut up,” Cassidy muttered, her ears turning pink.

Harlow looked between us, a smile spreading across her face. “Can I come to the tea thing?”

Cassidy opened her mouth, likely to say something scathing, but I cut in first. “Sure. The more the merrier.”

“Actually,” Harlow said, suddenly checking her phone with exaggerated interest, “I just remembered I have that thing. With the person. At the place.”

“What thing?” Cassidy asked suspiciously.

“You know. The thing.” Harlow backed away, still smiling brightly. “You two have fun at your not-date tea thing!”

Before either of us could protest, she had vanished into the crowd of departing students.

Cassidy turned to me, her expression a complex mixture of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. “My sister is annoying.”

“She’s trying to help,” I said. “In her own chaotic way.”

“By ditching us?”

“By giving you space to talk about whatever’s bothering you without an audience.”

Cassidy’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Nothing’s bothering me except this stupid report card.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”