The Unsolvable Equation

Twenty-five

Somehow, Alexia had managed to avoid Caden for the entire week after the whole school dance fiasco. She ducked her head whenever she saw him in the hallways, and avoided eye contact during classes like the two Koreas avoided each other. Returning home was the tricky part, because at first, Caden would wait out for her at his front porch and she would do her best to make a mad dash into her house before he got the chance to strike up a conversation. However, every time she fled from interaction, she couldn’t help catching a glimpse of his eyes light up and then fall, like a fire slowly being extinguished, and it always killed her a little inside.

Like all good poets and writers, Alexia had been channelling her internal struggle into her poetry. She would spend hours weaving her feelings into poetry that, though shared the same subject matter, seemed to wind into individual stories, like a collection of love songs, a hundred different ways of telling the same story.

On Sunday, K.H demanded that she come over and help her with cleaning out her room. K.H’s mother had apparently snapped in the same way Alexia’s had and their tolerance over this apparent stint of teenage behaviour had worn thin. Alexia, though highly reluctant to drag her ass all the way over to K.H’s place, was also partially glad to be able to spend some time with her. She had really come to rely on K.H and her advice during this period of time, and K.H’s sassy personality and dry, witty remarks never failed to cheer her up.

“Thank the heavens you are here,” K.H exclaimed when Alexia arrived, throwing the doors open and pulling her inside her room. “God forbid I venture into the depths of hell alone.”

“K.H you’re overdramatizing, again! It can’t be that bad -”

The words died on the tip of her tongue when she came face to face with the warzone that was K.H’s room. Clothes were strewn all over the place, her desk, or what was remaining of it, was littered in a mountain of junk paper and files. K.H had apparently obliterated the use of a dustbin and a mess of crumpled up papers covered up half the floor. Posters, half of them peeling off, took up one entire wall and there was a pile of boxes containing God-knew-what in the corner. Alexia simply stared at K.H, who was twiddling her thumbs, guiltily, all positive words she could offer about the situation evading her. “K.H, this is ridiculous! It looks like you staged World War two in this place! And I though my room was bad!” Alexia commented, laughing. “Where the hell even is your room?”

K.H groaned. “I get it, Alexia. I think my mother reiterated that clearly enough when she completely lost her head over the state of this room.”

Alexia carefully maneuvered K.H’s desk chair over the clutter of paper on the floor and sat down. “You’re on your own. I am not trained to fight a war big as this one,” she said in an exaggerated fashion.

K.H threw her hands over her head in frustration. “Ugh, Fine! But I trust you provide good moral support!”

“My prayers are with you as you prepare to enter the demon’s lair, brave soldier.”

K.H faked a sob and an emotional farewell. “Make it out alive, I shan’t be able to promise thee,” she proclaimed in exaggerated english. “Tell my family I love them, take care of my beloved feline.” She pretended to salute Alexia and grabbed a broom.

“Oh, I think your cat will be glad to be rid of your presence,” Alexia joked. “Would means more space for it.”

K.H whacked her lightly with the broom. “I have a weapon. Never agitate the person with a weapon.”

“Just get to work!”

K.H sighed and began sweeping up the floor, grunting and cursing every now and then. Alexia started rummaging through her shelf and picked out a book of fun facts. “Hey, I remember this!” she remarked. “I gave this to you for your birthday a few years ago!”

K.H looked over and frowned. “Oh yes, that book. Your little attempt to fill my brain with useless facts so I wouldn’t look so stupid next to you. Go on, entertain me with it.”

Alexia flipped it open and started reading out the random trivia in the book. “Did you know,” she began. “That to escape a crocodile, push it in the eyeball.”

“Gee, that’s going to be useful, since they apparently heavily populate the road I live on,” K.H said sarcastically.

Alexia shrugged. “The more you know.”

“Give me more facts!”

“The dot on top of the letter ‘i’ is called a tittle.”

“That’s interesting,” K.H remarked without much interest, dumping the contents of her dustpan into the bin.

“A 17 year old boy holds the world record for staying up for the longest time, with his reflexes alert; he stayed up for 11 days.”

K.H smirked. “A future goal of mine. Maybe I’ll finally hold a world record.”

“Harper Lee was given a year’s wages as a gift from a friend to write whatever she wanted, and like in all good fairytales, To Kill A Mockingbird was conceived.”

“Hey! Now that’s a goal for you and your poetry.”

“There are one million ants for every human in the world. Elephants can smell water up to three miles away. French poodles originated in Germany.”

“Anything else?”

“Oh, here’s an interesting one!,” Alexia said, flipping the page. “In the oldest known version of Cinderella, she was egyptian, and her slipper was stolen by an eagle.

K.H stopped sweeping and stared at Alexia. “In the modern version, however,” she said slyly. “She was a teenage genius and her heart was stolen by a Caden.”

Alexia slapped the book shut. “K.H!”

K.H held up her hand. “Don’t try to deny it. You are a lot of things, Alexia, but you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

Alexia sighed and placed the book back on the shelf. “I just hope I’m making the right choice.”

“Oh, Alexia,” K.H said, giving her a rueful smile. “Don’t we all?”