"No, that’s linear. This is exponential."

Avantika frowned. She glanced at the door impatiently, her foot tapping the floor audibly. "And why does that matter?"

 "Because you’re going to fail the final exam if you can’t differentiate these two," Mason replied coolly, his fingers absentmindedly tugging a stray strand of hair. Admittedly, whenever  he recalls this conversation, he can begrudgingly acknowledge that he might have been ever-so-slightly snarky towards her. 

 "I don’t get it. Are you here to berate me or tutor me? I’m missing practice for this," she retorted, grimacing as she reviewed the next equation. The duration of their tutoring session was set for 2 hours. Ninety minutes in, they had made no progress. Minor disputes kept sidetracking them. Mason didn’t know how much more of this he could take before he started tugging more brown strands of hair out of his head.

"Are there better things you could be doing with your time? Like cheerleading?" he frowned.

"Definitely," she scoffed. She was trying to end the conversation, but he stubbornly refused to let it go. It wasn't like he was tutoring her out of goodwill; he didn't even like her.

"Not like you’ll be doing much of that soon. When was the last time your GPA went up?" Mason muttered.

 An awkward silence filled the room while he thumbed at his fringe, pulling at flyaway strands. His scalp itched in response, but he didn’t relent. He was only here for a boost to his grade. Tutoring for extra credit was easy, they said. He didn’t know who “they” were, but whoever said that probably didn’t have to deal with Avantika. The atmosphere of the room was oddly off-putting. The shades on the windows behind Avantika were up, allowing the large panes of glass to beam in a flood of beautiful lighting that illuminated half of the room behind her in a warm glow. In contrast, the shades on Mason’s side were down, casting a gloomier and darker hue over him. Avantika visibly bristled.

Her annoyance was the only remotely entertaining thing he'd experienced in the past hour and a half. His satisfaction was cut short by her sharp response.

 "There’s no need for any of that. Is your 3.8 supposed to make you more impressive?" She waved him off dismissively. Her momentary vexation was still a win to him.

 "Impressive like you? I’m supposed to be impressed because you’re an athlete?" Mason crossed his arms, leaning back into the chill of the ladderback chair.

His sarcasm was biting, yet she grinned and brushed it off. "People come to my events all the time," she said confidently. "I’m not the odd one here. You are. It’s not natural for people to not want to be you."

His pride stung a bit as he yanked harshly at a brown lock of hair. It felt cliché. This wasn’t the '90s. How lame was it that he was having a debate about how uninteresting he was with an admittedly popular girl? She didn’t even have to answer that question. She knew this. There were a lot of people who wanted to be Avantika Raymond.

He feigned ignorance. "What are you going on about?"

 "You’ve gotten so comfortable on your high horse because your GPA is a few points higher than mine—"

"—It’s a lot of points higher than yours," he interrupted, a hand buried between thin locks of hair, grazing at the root.

She pushed on, ignoring him. "But what about that matters if nobody knows you?"

Mason blinked and leveled her with a flat, unimpressed stare. That was her point? That his academic success didn’t matter because he wasn’t socially relevant?

"Oh, but everyone knows you?" Everybody did know her.

"I’m great," she said matter-of-factly.

 "Who said that?" His eyebrows furrowed.

This time, Avantika seemed genuinely confused. "I’m likable."

"I’ve been sitting here for the past hour and a half, and I’ve yet to find anything likable," he blurted out defensively, much harsher than he intended. Avantika made him feel uneasy. She added to the pit of dislike, anxiety, and a multitude of mixed emotions that made him feel nauseous at best. Meanwhile, she seemed unaffected, unperturbed by his attempts to upset her.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the large glass windows behind Avantika, casting golden beams across the room. It’s too bright for Mason to face directly so he had to lower his eyes to the desk in front of him, head sloping downwards. Avantika’s gaze drifted idly across the classroom, following the golden rays of sunlight down to Mason’s head. The small patches of exposed skin seem to blend into the shadowy roots of brown locks, but under the bright glint of sunlight, the bald spots were starkly visible, illuminated in the warm light. 

"You know, after summer when we came back to school and you were suddenly all bald and hairless, everyone thought you had cancer," she started, gaze steady and unwavering.

 Mason coughed harshly, his breath suddenly caught in his throat. He scrambled to his feet, immediately gathering his belongings. "Shut up."

Avantika continued, gaze shifting onto the bald spots that littered his scalp like cratered crevices on the moon. "I thought you were going through some emo phase where you shaved off all your hair because you thought it was some kind of statement. But apparently, people would watch you pull out your hair in the middle of class, so we all thought you were doing drugs or something and agreed we wouldn’t get too close."

Dread filled him, and he already found his body moving before his mind could catch up. He didn’t want to coexist with her in the empty classroom. Although there were only two people in the room, it suddenly felt stuffy and cramped, as if he didn’t have enough space to even extend his limbs.

 Avantika’s voice suddenly sharpened, and he felt as if he couldn’t leave fast enough. He had already gathered his belongings in the short amount of time, bag zipped and full as he swung it over his back.

 "You don’t get to say I’m unlikable; I’m only here because I have to be," Avantika said smoothly.

 The silence that followed was deafening. Avantika’s words hung heavy in the air, suffocating him like a wooly blanket. His breath caught in his throat, heart pounding as he struggled to find his voice.

"You can fail this final," Mason managed finally, standing up stiffly. He turned on his heel, exiting the room swiftly. Avantika’s words echoed in his ears. The weight of her statements clung to his frame like a heavy cloak.