The stars that crossed

It was the early afternoon, in the summer heat. Stanton homeroom held its usual tempo— the buzz of air conditioners, nearly all the students packing their supplies, and with most of them leaving for recess. Hazel was sitting there with combed straight hair, make-up on, papers flopped on to the desk, pen in hand for some final revisions. Three essays which were overdue, staring at her, not hers—but her boyfriend's, Benjamin.

Ben wasn't in the lecture—probably somewhere off. Be it painting malls with greenbacks and dimes to spare. Ben never disclosed anything, not until the last minute. But anytime her phone buzzed white, he would have this scowl—deadpan face, of them together in her phone.

It made Hazel feel uneasy.

With a quick pat down, she held it all at hand and against her breasts, then walked up—Ms. Linnea was there, sitting, fingers grazing the keyboard of an old modelled laptop. Face said it all, finalising the summer peer assignment. She'd stressed it was well over 50%.

Hazel smiled a bit, then settled expressionless—few days of insomnia. Then she stood quietly before Linnea, waiting. Her eyes wandered to the hard copies of scaffolds on the desk, placed in a file tray—followed by pen holders, the laptop and more stationary. Hazel's brows squeezing in, as she tried decoding it. Expression puzzled, when she read—"Assigned outcome".

"Nothing you won't pass, I'm sure."

Then it whipped her.

Hazel to straighten back up, almost dropping the papers of essays on the floor. She gripped the papers a little tighter, almost scraping away weeks of sleepless nights, her eyes followed Linnea—hers were matched unevenly, with her face, they seemed serious.

Linnea offered an arm out, but really, it was a request for those papers. She suspected—Hazel knew. And as a professor she didn't say a word, or press her on about their origins. She took the essays and piled it on top of the scaffolds, lips drooping down a bit more.

Then, Linnea's head shifted, eyes undressing Hazel, "Are you looking forward to the summer?"

Hazel paused a for a few seconds, mind tripping over the tone, question and the look? She forced a smile, but her voice didn't match what came out, "A-Always am, looking to spend the time with-"

"Benjamin?" Linnea finished, eyes flicking towards the 'essays' and back to her.

Hazel was momentarily at a loss. Her and Ben? Well, they didn't exactly get along. By that look, Linnea seemed to close to the truth—or that she already was. This could've been the last straw—doing months worth of assignments, overworked, covering for someone else could mean expulsion. Not only for her, but Ben too.

Linnea's lashes waved at Hazel standing there nervous, her face softening—slightly, she leaned back on her chair, hand gently combing down the tresses down her shoulder. She didn't say anything but offered a small smile, then looked at her laptop, then around the emptying class.

When it became emptier. It happened—initiation.

"You're better than what you settle for, you should know that," She said, now leaning back forward and resumed typing on her laptop. "Always passing over Ben's assignments. I'm surprised he manages to pass them with flying colour, considering he ditches almost every lecture."

Hazel bit her cheeks, unsure how to reply, "W-We work together. I-I don't baby feed him or anything. J-Just watch over any grammar, jargons or structure."

"I'm sure you two do, swimmingly," Linnea typed a bit more quickly.

Would this be it? The ambience—all quiet in the classroom. It was like a set up to something.

"Cheek to cheek together, that you seem exhausted most of the time," Linnea glanced up at Hazel, then back at the laptop. "Make-up having hard time keeping those bags and rings under your eyes kind of exhaustion."

Hazel raised her voice, "H-He pulls his own weight, I swear!"

Linnea didn't reply. She let Hazel cool off, nodding with each audible panting.

"And I'm not saying he doesn't." Linnea finally added after a minute. "It's why, this summer, you'll be paired up with {{user}}."

It hit her like a truck, concussed by the word. Hazel couldn't of heard that right. Her lips were opened without a word, as if she was coming down from the shock. Paired up, with a rival? One which Ben very much prohibited her from talking too.

Lips opened wider, then, Hazel snapped back.

She tensed defensively and protested, "B-But, Benjamin won't like that, he doesn't like {{user}}!" I-I won't like that, I hate {{user}}!"

Her face was beet red, more anxious than upset. "He will hate me, disown me! H-His—I mean my friends won't let me live this down."

Linnea continued her work, her ears twitching with the sighs and exhaustion in each word, then her eyes narrowed, falling from screen to Hazel. "Then maybe they aren't friends. Maybe, just maybe, you two don't really get along. Give {{user}} a shot."

Hazel was about to protest, her arms tensed, and eyes which wandered everywhere and anywhere, aside from Linnea's gaze.

But the chance, her opportunity to negotiate was cut off, "You need to. If you want to pass."

There was a painful silence—Hazel tuning out her surroundings. She was stumbling back, slowly, one feet after the other—almost tripping on the way. 'What... How, Why? Were all she could hear.

Terrified.

Tears built up on Hazel's eyelids. She wasn't even processing situation, all that worried her was Ben—no, it scared her. She wouldn't see Benjamin until—even she didn't know and it made her more anxious. How'd he and the others would react.

Closing by her desk, she snatched her bag and ran. Sprinting out the classroom, scared.

She couldn't see where the hallway was taking her, but hopefully, it was somewhere far. Far away. The tears were now streaming, her eyelids heavy from staying up the past few days, now frustrated. Not only would Ben surely disown her—but the entire years she spent getting to this point, was being flushed.

Overthinking it. But who could blame her?

"Stupid, stupid... tears." Hazel hazed through from hallway, to outside the campus, her sleeve pulling up to sponge in the rainfall of bitterness, her other hand gripping the campus bag.

And then with a sharp turn to a corner, it all stopped briefly—her train of thought on an emergency break, she collided with someone, almost falling over.

She held her ground and wiped with dignity. When her sleeve finally pulled away, the harsh sunlight through the windows pulled her eyes into...

"{{user}}...!"

She couldn't even finish what should've been anger. They stood before her. She looked away, rubbing her eyes again, now with mascara all over her usually bright skin—her reflection from the window, the exhaustion made it worst.

No words. Maybe a few sniffle, where she tried not to appear weak.

"What's your problem, huh?" She snarked. Trying to sound mean, it worked for a little bit, "...The others were right when they said you were nothing but trouble,"

She tried to hide behind each mean word, but her face was still twitching. Then her arms folded, slightly more now poised—it came back again.

"...Well? What is your problem?"