Veronica could not explain why this was not an ordinary Tuesday for her.
It certainly had all of the qualities of a normal day.
She woke up, made her morning matcha, took a shower, made some breakfast, and headed to class.
Something stung.
She ignored the feeling and moved onward.

During class, she liked to draw little doodles in her notebook.
It wasn’t as if Veronica wasn’t listening— she was. Yet, her brain felt as though she did most of her learning outside of her class. She liked to silently draw the facial features of random people sitting in her class: hair, noses, eyes, lips-
A twinge.
She ignored the feeling and moved onward.

As she walked back to her apartment for lunch, the wind blew softly through her hair. She always got cold easily— even in the 80-degree sun, she felt goosebumps across her arms due to the October chill. She preferred walking at night to avoid the discomfort of the heat against her face. The feeling of walking down the road, street lights gently illuminating the path ahead of her, with the calm voice of the gentle breeze blowing just perfectly— not too hot, not too cold. She couldn’t remember the last time she did that.
Was she going to see him again today?
Veronica shivered.
She ignored the feeling and moved onward.

Veronica did not necessarily call herself someone who dwelled on things frequently. She moved on, life continuted— “go with the flow”.
She felt as though everything happened for a reason. She used to be a bit of a control freak growing up. When she was little, she used to plan out her birthdays so intricately that when one little thing didn’t go exactly the way that she wanted it to, she would start crying. Now, after so long, she finally could say that she was okay when things didn’t go the way that she planned.
It started a month ago.
She walked towards her class.
Room 3.420.
It was a normal day.
Her heart beat a bit faster.
They hadn’t seen each other in almost a year.
Her eyes closed shut.
She passed right by the man sitting outside her class.
She ignored the feeling and moved onward.

Veronica walked in.
So why was she seeing him every single week now?
The chairs in this classroom were peculiar.
They always made a squeaking noise when she moved them to sit down.
As she sat in class, she stared directly at the whiteboard, yet could not comprehend a single word being spoken.
Her right index and middle fingers played with her pen slowly, balancing it between the crooks.
She liked to take her pen and draw along the lines of her palms, gently and carefully.
The feeling of the ink pressed against her hands felt like it was some kind of tattoo or mark, meant to be there. She was far too scared of pain to actually get one, but this was close enough.
She tried not to think about how her heart felt like it was about to fall out of her chest.
She ignored the feeling and moved onward.

Veronica’s laptop was dead, and none of the outlets nearby worked.
Realizing the dilemma she was in, she walked outside her classroom to an empty chair.
She plugged her laptop in and stared at it blankly before beginning to do work, but she couldn’t exactly comprehend what she was doing.
Footsteps approaching.
Her eyes had laser-sharp focus towards her screen, yet through the corner of her eye she looked up.
He saw her and walked the other direction.
She could imagine what he was thinking.
Why was she outside of his class?
He hadn’t seen her in almost a year.
Why was he seeing her every single week now?
Veronica got up from the chair and walked away.
She ignored the feeling and moved onward.

Veronica walked towards her apartment.
It was closer to the evening, so the sky was now a golden hue with blisters of red swirling around like ice cream.
She remembered that something similar had happened to one of her friends three years ago— but that was more likely to happen.
This was strange. This was bewildering.
This was going from wondering if she would ever see him again to seeing him multiple times a week.
Veronica curled her fingers up into a fist, as she used her other hand to tenderly caress it, softly grazing around her knuckles, lightly motioning her fingers across the fading pen lines she had drawn earlier.
Some part of her wished that he had spoken to her.
She couldn’t blame him; it took courage. Every time she saw him, she just walked away. Maybe she was a hypocrite.
There was always next week, anyway.
Today was a normal day.
Veronica put on her earphones and softly gazed ahead at the path in front of her as she walked to her friend’s apartment. Thinking for a second, she placed a hand on her left earphone and gently took it out to listen to the sound of people chattering and hear the breeze better.
She ignored the feeling and moved onward.

Tina liked to walk around using certain words when talking about others.  Her mother was a complete pushover, constantly trying to tell Tina what and what not to do- Tina called her “supportive”.  Her father was entirely neglectful, and hadn’t been to one of her piano recitals since she was six years old- Tina called him “business-oriented”.  The girl who one-upped her at everything at school?

She was a bitch.

Tina obviously didn’t enjoy saying mean things about people, but that was exactly what Emma Davis was- a bitch.

She remembered her first day of school walking in for Mrs. Jones’s Kindergarten class, wearing her favorite t-shirt and Hello Kitty backpack, only for Emma to laugh it and say it was “for babies”.

Of course, that was years ago, that wasn’t necessarily something Tina would hold a grudge over.

There was, however, the time Emma found the Buddha picture in Tina’s cubby during recess and drew crosses all over it in permanent Sharpie.

Or the time she put little pieces of beef jerky in Tina’s lunch kit while she was in the bathroom, before laughing in her face when she had begun to eat it.

Or even the time she started a rumor in her 6th grade English class that Tina smelled like fish, and everyone started calling her “Tuna Tina”.

Tina’s parents told her to live and forget though- times had changed, they were older now, and Emma obviously wouldn’t be the same person.

Tina, however, knew the truth.

There was something else that she didn’t really like about Emma: every single time Tina wanted something, Emma was just somehow always able to get it.

Tina auditioned to be in the talent show and there was only one spot?  Sorry, Emma had the better singing voice.

Tina wanted the higher class rank?  Sorry, Emma got a higher grade in AP Calculus.

Tina liked someone?  Sorry, Emma’s dating them now.

Emma was smarter, prettier, more talented- and Tina would always be nothing compared to her.

She wondered constantly if something was wrong with her, or if Emma was just that perfect- and also really hated Tina that much.

Then, there was the scholarship.

Only ten girls from the entire city were given the privilege of being selected after an extremely rigorous application process.  Each applicant had ten minutes to give their “life story” to five judges and, if they won, they would be granted free tuition to whichever University they chose to attend, for all four years.

Tina, after discovering that she had been selected, felt like physically leaping for joy- until seeing that Emma had been as well.

The scholarship was mainly for individuals who were underprivileged, people of color, or both.  Emma had put down that she had “African American roots” on her application since her great-great-grandmother was black.

Regardless, Tina worked, and she worked hard.

She spent hours and hours crafting her speech, practicing it, seeking help from her English teacher, and staying up late at night editing it to make sure it had every single important detail worth mentioning.

She drafted how her parents’s savings had fallen completely down the drain after saving up to care for her grandfather when he was diagnosed with cancer while she was in middle school.  She wrote about the racism that she had faced growing up, being a Vietnamese-American Buddhist in a predominantly white Christian school.  She detailed the terrible loneliness she felt growing up while her parents were too focused on hoping she did well in school, rather than asking if she had any friends.  She recorded how she constantly felt second best at every single thing that she did- how, no matter how hard she tried, and she was terrified that it would always come out to nothing.

Then, it was the day of the speech.

Tina couldn’t sleep the entire night before, unbelievably anxious.  She wondered constantly whether it would be good enough, what Emma would say, and if she even had a chance of winning.  Ignoring the large, gaping hole in her stomach, she went into the speech room, right after Emma, and began her speech.

Midway into her segment about her grandfather, she began seeing the judges whispering amongst themselves.  Not in a way that seemed usual for judges discussing a speech they were viewing, but rather in a mild buzz of confusion.

After three more minutes of whispering, one of the older judges stopped Tina mid-sentence.  

“Excuse me, but we’re going to have to stop you right there.  We have reason to believe that you are plagiarizing another contestant’s speech.”

Tina’s eyes widened, as her hands began to shake.

“Um, ex-excuse me?  I’ve been working on my speech for weeks now, I even asked the English teacher at my school, Mrs. Lawson for help.  You can ask her, she can prove it to you.”

“Yes, and our other contestant warned us that she believed someone had stolen a part of her speech.  Mrs. Lawson also called us this morning to confirm that she believed that you might have stolen part of her speech, but we wanted to hear it ourselves.  Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Tina’s eyes began to well up.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Please, I’ve worked so hard, is there any way that the other student might have taken my-”

“The other student,” the woman began, “Emma Davis, as you may know, is extremely exemplary and is the valedictorian of your class.  Please do not go around accusing her.  I am afraid that we are going to have to disqualify you.  Please exit the room through the door on your left.”

Feeling utterly worthless, Tina slowly walked towards the door, trying not to burst into tears.  As she passed through it, she clenched her fists, cringing at the thought of what her parents would say to her when they heard the news.  Hoping that she would at least not have to see Emma before she left for her car, she glanced to her right and locked eyes with a familiar face, holding her nose and smiling at her, mouthing the words “Tuna Tina”.