closeness.
At some point a person who looks like they think they know everything stands before us and begins yabbering about negative space, perspective and interpretation. Things I am probably supposed to be listening to, but everything seems to wash around a small, focused tunnel featuring Student-number-eight. The lesson feels like itâs over in minutes, but the wall clock assures me a full hour has passed. Students startfiling out of the classroom like cattle to the next prodding. I half expect him to say something to me, maybe goodbye, but Student-number-eight just grabs his pack and exits with the crowd. For the rest of the morning I watch doors expectantly, but he doesnât show again.
At midday, I head to the cafeteria without the help of Feliciaâs stupid map. I donât have to spend much time looking for her. Felicia is bopping up and down and waving at me from a table in the middle of the room like someone drowning. How long is it going to take her to work out that we are not going to be friends?
âI saved you a seat,â she says and pats the chair next to her.
âThanks,â I say, and then take a different one instead. âHere is fine.â
âOh sure,â she says, and tries to look like sheâs cool with it. âSo, how is your first day going?â
âFine.â
âMeet anyone nice?â
âI didnât speak to anyone. Iâm going to get some lunch now,â I say and stand up.
âGreat!â she says and stands too. âIâm starving.â
Starving girl buys a salad and a black coffee, no sugar. I get a pie and a Coke. Between forkfuls she dabs at the corner of her mouth with a folded serviette. I have tomato sauce dribbling down my wrist and I make slurp noises through my straw. Felicia sips her coffee in small, soundless swallows. Every time I look at her she gives me a little smile. I want to scream why are you here? Why are you even talking to me?
âSo, Via tells me youâve always wanted to be a teacher.â
âThatâs interesting.â
âSheâs always talking about you.â
âI can believe that.â
âFrom what she says, I think we have a lot in common.â
âOh yeah,â I say with a chuckle. âLike what?â
âWe both like music, for instance.â
âUh-huh.â
âAnd weâre both good at school.â
I nod. We go to the same university. We are both Italian. We were born in the same city. We are both eating lunch. We are both digesting our food. On and on it goes, but really, sheâs just missing the big picture the whole time. We couldnât be more different.
âYou donât make it easy, do you?â she says after a while.
âI donât make what easy?â
âBeing your friend.â
I put down my Coke, wipe my face with the back of my hand because Iâve somehow lost my serviette. I donât usually waste time explaining myself, but this isnât really her fault. Itâs Viaâs. If she hadnât decided she couldnât be bothered driving me around anymore none of this would be happening.
âLook Felicia, youâre a nice person, but I really donât need a friend my aunt had to organise for me.â
âIs that what you think this is?â
âCome on, Felicia. I think you know Iâm not stupid.â
âNobody asked me to be your friend, Mira.â
I laugh. âIâm sure she made you feel like it was all your idea.â
She crosses her arms and swivels her knees to the side. âIâm not that easily influenced. If you actually tried to get to knowme instead of just assuming what Iâm like youâd find that out about me.â
Oh God. Donât start crying.
âYou really donât have to take this so personally.â
She laughs. âAre you kidding? Youâve been rude to me all day and all Iâve been is nice to