With Cap officially having joined our group, the lunch dynamic began to change quite dramatically. What previously often consisted of a quiet corner to eat and discuss whatever was on our minds turned into an awkward triangle of Iris having a conversation with one of us, and the other pitching in on occasion.

On one particular day in early November, Iris was helping Cap with a particularly troublesome math problem. In all honesty, I didn’t know what I was doing on it either, but I wasn’t inclined to join the discussion.

“So the ‘x’ goes here on the bottom,” Cap clarified, “And not on the top?”

Iris nodded.

“That’s correct,” Iris confirmed, “It’s smarter to have your ‘x’ variable in the denominator for this problem, as it lines up better with the formula you’re going to be using later.”

“I am so lost,” Cap muttered to himself, “Hey, Ret, do you know what’s going on here?”

“Not particularly,” I responded absentmindedly, not paying much attention.

“You’re having trouble, too?” Iris asked me, “Why don’t you come join us?”

I shook my head emphatically.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reassured them, “It will give me something to do when I go home.”

“Nonsense,” Iris turned down my declination, “Come here.”

Seeing no option for escape, I sat down next to Cap on the ground and looked at his math book. While I was a better student than he was, this particular material was beyond me. Math was never my strongest subject, with social sciences being more up my alley.

Thankfully, Iris was much more educated in the realm of mathematics compared to me, and despite joining in late I was understanding the material much faster than Cap, who was still confused by the time lunch ended.

“You two still aren’t talking much, huh?” Iris commented as we began packing.

I shook my head.

“Just because I’m letting him sit with me doesn’t mean I’m comfortable around him. And I think he has the same doubts I do.”

“Are you sure?”

I didn’t answer. In all honesty, there was a part of me wondering whether I was simply projecting myself onto Cap in some way that made me think he was as irritated as I was. Of course, that was just a nagging thought, as Cap hadn’t made much effort to talk to me at lunch either.

“Iris,” I called after her as she started to gain on me, “There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”

She turned around, curious.

“What was it?” She replied.

“We probably can’t talk about it now,” I admit after a quick realization, “But remind me tomorrow, and I’ll ask then.”

Still confused, she nodded before heading off to her class.

After school, I figured it was worth paying a visit to Mr. MacArthur’s office to update him on the newest developments. I had only visited once since Cap started eating with us, and it was only a day or two after the decision was made.

Reaching the door, I knocked on it several times, expecting a response from the other side. However, it was silent. I attempted to open the door, but it was locked. This set off alarm bells in my head, as Mr. MacArthur was almost always in his office by this time, and the times he wasn’t were usually his days off, meaning the door would have an “Out for the day” sign hanging on it. However, the sign was nowhere to be found.

Just then, I heard a familiar voice coming down the hall.

“Yes, yes, I told you I’d have it for you in a few days,” the voice said, “I’m sorry, but my son got sick for a few weeks, and I had to spend a bit of the money I had initially put aside for you, and…”

The voice, which I identified as Mr. MacArthur, was continuing to ramble into his phone. I decided not to interject, but as I was preparing to leave he noticed me, and beckoned me into his office with him.

By the time we both sat down, he had concluded his phone call, and was smiling at me apologetically.

“I apologize for any trouble,” he stated immediately, “Some personal matters came up that I had to deal with.”

I shook my head quickly.

“Not at all,” I reassure him, “You’re not obligated to be in your office whenever I need you. If anything, you’ve done me a service just by being here as often as you are.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. MacArthur shook his head, “The job of a teacher is to help their students learn and grow, and part of that is being there when they need us.”

“I suppose,” I mumbled, failing to make eye contact.

We sat in silence for a moment, before I took the initiative to explain recent events.

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing well in math,” he praised, “Iris is such a smart girl, I’m not surprised she was able to help you with your struggles.”

I nod, a slight grin adorning my face.

“She is,” I agreed, “And what of my situation with Cap?”

“Well,” he started, “It seems you two have reached a kind of stalemate. Neither of you wants to break the ice, which is keeping you both sane but simultaneously making it impossible to get any closer.”

“I don’t really trust him,” I confessed, “So I’ll let him do it.”

“Isn’t that just putting off the inevitable, though?” he challenged, “Maybe you should be the one to offer an olive branch. It would make things much easier.”

“I still don’t think I can.”

“Well, the good news is that you still have time. Think it over for a little while, and talk over your thoughts with me next time you come here.”

I nodded, thanked him for his time, and departed swiftly. There was a lot on my mind, and I couldn’t think of a better place to mull it all over than my own bed at home. However, peace was the last thing that I would know the rest of that afternoon.

As I turned the corner to walk to the nearby bus stop, a hand roughly grabbed my shoulder. The unexpected force of the hand caused me to fall over, my back landing against the cement brick wall separating the sidewalk from one of the nearby houses.

I looked up to see who the offender was. Standing above me, clearly angry, was Cap’s friend Miles. It took a moment for the face to register in my head due to the initial pain in my back, but when everything came together it occurred to me exactly what had happened.

He had pushed me down, intentionally.

“Listen, Red-Eyes,” he scowled at me, “I know you’ve been spending more time with my boy Cap. Don’t even try to deny it.”

I held my hands up in defeat, attempting to avoid any more unnecessary pain.

“Guilty as charged, I suppose,” I admit, “Though we barely talk to each other.”

“Is that so?” he prodded, “That makes it even worse, then. He’s been abandoning the rest of us to pander to a social reject like you. Not sure what he sees in you, to be honest. You just seem like an ass to me.”

“We all have one,” I replied halfheartedly.

“Not my point,” he snarled, stomping, “Stay away from him. We don’t need you sullying his reputation, or ours.”

“Hey, if you can convince him to leave me alone, I won’t complain,” I said, “But he’s coming by of his own free will. Not sure what I’m supposed to do about that.”

Miles glared at me for a moment longer, then walked away. Realizing I was safe, I stood up and brushed myself off.

“What’s his problem?” I muttered to myself, irritated.

Needless to say, I was not in a good mood when I arrived home, and seeing my parents did not help one bit.

“What’s wrong, Retter?” my mother immediately questioned me upon my entry.

“What do you mean?” I responded in my depressed state.

“Sit down,” she beckoned.

I obliged, taking a seat at the dinner table.

“Now please explain what’s going on,” she requested.

I took a deep breath. I didn’t particularly want to tell my mother what was going on. After all, past experience had taught me that my parents would often shrug in response to any trouble I had at school, and they would often just end it with a “hang in there” or something of the sort. However, I also recognized that it would be much less troublesome to be up front with it now and just deal with the ramifications of it after the fact.

“I kinda got assaulted by one of the other students on the way home,” I disclosed quietly.

My mother gasped, not realizing how normal this was for me.

“What do you mean?”

“A friend of a…of someone I know” I corrected myself, “was angry that his friend was associating with me. Worried about their reputation or something.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” My mother asked, “This is not okay.”

I nodded.

“If you would back up my story, we can take this to the school’s administration. It’s possible that he would be disciplined if my parents could confirm the story.”

A short silence followed.

“Retter, I’d be happy to, but I wasn’t there to see it. Our witness testimony wouldn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it would!” I suddenly begin shouting, “You two know better than anyone when I’m lying! Even if you didn’t see it-“

She shook her head.

“Claims of bullying are taken very seriously at your school, but innocent until proven guilty is the standard for a reason. I can’t have you disciplined by the school for something that you’re not to blame for.”

“What would they blame me for?” I asked.

“Maybe they would consider you as bullying that other student,” she said, “Your eyes don’t help your case here.”

“Of course it’s my damn eyes,” I mutter.

“Language, Retter.”

“You think I care?!” I shout at her, “You two are cowards, the both of you! Do you know how long I’ve had to deal with this? Longer than you even know! And you two won’t back me up on it!”

“Retter,” she pleaded, but I wasn’t listening.

Instead, I decided that enough was enough. I marched straight up the stairs as fast as I could, not wanting to see my mother’s face anymore. I wasn’t thinking remotely straight, and I yelled the first thing that came to mind. Of course, she was probably right, and it would do more harm than good to take this to the school, but it didn’t matter.

Once again, she had abandoned me. She left me to the wolves, just like she always had.

I wasn’t feeling much better the next day, either. The argument we’d had the previous night was still weighing on me when I went to class in the morning, meaning I was even more standoffish and irritable than I usually was. On the plus side, Miles didn’t try to pick a fight with me during the day.

When I sat down for lunch, Iris once again noticed my internal conflict, and felt it necessary to ask about it.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured her, “Just got in a fight with my parents. Happens every once in a while.”

Of course, I wasn’t being completely honest. I didn’t talk to my parents much for the exact reasons that we ended up fighting over, making an interaction like this very unusual.

She nodded, putting aside my problem for a moment.

“Anyway, you said yesterday that you had something that you wanted to ask me,” she reminded, “What was it?”

Remembering that I had asked her to remind me of this, I took the chance to finally have my burning question answered.

“What did you mean when you told me that you didn’t think you had a hard life?” I probed, “It’s been bugging me ever since you said that.”

“Huh?” she asked, confused, “When did I say that?”

“I think it was a few weeks ago, right after we met. You were talking about how you had lost your mother, and I said that your life must have been hard.”

She put her hand on her chin, clearly thinking hard about what I had asked.

“I don’t really remember that,” she admitted, “But I don’t think you’re wrong, now that you mention it.”

“Huh?”

“I guess looking back, my life must have been pretty difficult. I mean, most people spend their entire childhoods with both parents present, or at the very least alive. But I never really considered it.”

“Why not?” I questioned, “I’ve felt that way about my own life, and I have both my parents.”

“I guess you get used to it,” she reasoned, “I never really thought much about what I had lost. I was too busy being happy with what I had.”

“And what did you have?”

“Well, a loving father, for one. The more years I live, the more I recognize how lucky I am that he was the one my mother chose. He’s not perfect by any means, but he cares a lot, and puts in everything he has to make sure we can get by.”

“Lucky you,” I commented, not making eye contact, “I never really get along with my parents.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re cowards. My eyes have been the bane of my existence for as long as I’ve lived, and not once have they at all attempted to help blunt the pain I’ve had to feel as a result.”

She didn’t say anything to that, instead turning her head to the sky.

“What else?” I continued.

“What?”

“What else have you been happy with in your life?”

I saw her lips curl up slightly at that.

“I had a cute dog growing up.”

“Oh?” I asked, smirking, “You never told me you were a dog person.”

“There’s just something about them that’s so, so cute. Like, when they jump on you and you get to feel their fur, and when they lick your face and ears, and, and,” she tried to keep going, but it was clear that her train of thought derailed.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be impressed with her mental fortitude.

“It’s amazing that you’ve been able to see so much of your hard life that way. That’s not something I can do.”

“Why not?”

I was startled with her quick response. I looked at her with incredulous eyes, to which she only tilted her head in confusion.

“It’s not like my attitude is something special. If anything, I’ve just taken a different perspective than you have.”

“I don’t get it,” I replied, beckoning her to continue.

“You know how when you take a picture, the colors are determined by the software that is present on the camera?” she illustrated, “When you put those photos on a computer, however, you can do a lot with them. Change the colors, make them brighter or dimmer, give them special effects, things like that. I think I just changed the settings on the photos I take.”

I took a look away from Iris, attempting to process the idea she had presented. What did it mean to change the photos of life? I wasn’t a camera, and I didn’t have the ability to connect to a computer to change any photos I did have.

“You like history, right?” she continued, unaware that I had lost focus for a moment, “Depending on who you ask, any given war was either good or bad, right? Who’s right, and who’s wrong?”

“Well, it’s impossible to say,” I immediately answered, “After all, by focusing on different facts of particular events, it’s possible to draw multiple different conclusions.”

“I think it’s the same thing with me. I look at different facts than you do, given the same event. It’s not just us, either. Everyone looks at the same events differently.”

“Is this something you’ve learned by ‘experiencing others’?” I teased.

Her face immediately reddened, and she broke eye contact for a moment.

“Stop it,” she whined.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late!” Cap’s voice interrupted.

I looked up at him, and his face went from its typical carefree demeanor to an incredulous stare.

“Wait, what did I miss?” he asked frantically, “Did you ask her out or something?”

I immediately buried my head in my hands, not sure how I would talk my way out of this one.