Overshadowed

Miss Fing’s old grandfather clock ticked back and forth, back and forth. The constant ticking held the attention of many students, including Zach. He stared and stared, waiting for 2:39. The test on his desk sat, waiting to be turned in. It would wait only a second more, for the time had come - 2:39. Zach stood with his test in his hands, the last to turn it in, the reason they hadn't moved on. Miss Fing crankily glared at Zach, since he woke her up. She was quite enjoying her nap.
Starting back to his desk, he smacks all of his things into a pile. He sits back and relaxes in his chair just before 2:40 hits. Vanessa saunters over to Zach’s desk, and he stands with his pile firmly grasped. “You took a while,” she commented with no clear point.
	“So? I always do. It’s the easiest way to get out of doing work.” Zach retorted as he walked with her to their lockers. Vanessa just shrugged, opening hers and carefully placing each individual book in color order. Zach, however, threw everything he didn’t need in the locker, simply plopped his homework binder into a bag and went. Waiting at the staircase for Vanessa, his mind drifted off with boredom.
 “Earth to Zach, do you read?” Vanessa was waving her hand in front of Zach’s eyes. He hadn’t realized she was there.
	“No, I write,” he joked.  She snorted, and they started down the stairs. Zach had never liked the stairs. There were always so many. And whenever he counted how many steps it took to go up a case, he couldn’t tell if they were all the same or not. Though, he did love skipping the last step.
Friday, school breezed by. Zach couldn’t wait to get to his weekend, while Vanessa couldn’t wait to finish all of her homework. By the time it was last block, both of them were ready to go home. Unfortunately for Zach, it was gym.
	Three seconds left on the timer, and Zach is struggling to make nine laps. The teachers call everyone back, and he feels like he’s about to faceplant into the grass. Vanessa looked like she was ready to do twenty more. Curious, Zach asked, “Yo, how many laps did you get?”
	“Fifteen, you?” To say he was astonished would be an understatement. He embarrassedly held up nine fingers. Her reaction was a strange mixture of pity, amusement, and concern. “Well, it’s...not bad.”
	“Or good,” he sourly pointed out. She just shrugged in a ‘sure, if you say so’ way. For some reason, this ticked Zach off to no end.
After school, Zach sits in Blake’s car, silent. Blake was almost reluctant to ask why he wasn’t talking. But, he’d rather know what’s bothering Zach then be curious about it. “So...what’s up?” he asked.
“Vanessa,” he scornfully spat out her name, “I’m tired of her being better than me. Like, maybe other people want to try being cool, y’know?” Zach spilled with all his pent up anger, expecting Blake to agree. Instead, the older boy shook his head in disappointment.
“Not cool, man. She’s just being herself. If you want to get better at something, just get better at it yourself.” Zach opened his mouth wordlessly, then shut it. He didn’t know what to say.
 “Pull over,” he demanded with enough force to almost shock Blake. But he complied, and turned into the nearest parking lot. Zach slams the door open and stomps away like a child having a tantrum.
	“Where are you going!” Blake half-yelled, half-questioned. All the while, a shiny McDonalds sign lit up the scene ridiculously. “Dude! You know what your mom will do to me if I don’t get you home!”
“I don’t care! I know my way home.” Zach turned around and spat. And Blake gave up.
The next day, Zach woke up in a mess. Saturday. About time. Instinctively checking his phone, he sees a bright red message. After blinking at least a thousand times to adjust his eyes, he finally gets to read it. “11 missed messages from UR_BOI_BLAKE.” Zach threw the innocent technology onto his bed, and stomped out of his room. He knew he was being unfair, but he didn’t care.
	Making his way downstairs, he sees his mom sleeping on her air mattress. Carefully stepping over her, he grabs a couple of waffles and sticks them in the toaster.
	Knock. Knock knock. Cranky and irritated, he opens the door, muttering, “The heck do you want?”
	“I need your help.” Vanessa stood in his doorway, dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Zach would’ve blown up if he hadn’t started laughing first.
	“You? Need my help? Give me a break.”
	“No, really. Remember that project Mrs. Mal assigned? Well, I can’t think of anything to write for, ‘What weaknesses do you have?’ or whatever it is.” Vanessa kept pointing to air and holding imaginary objects while she talked, as if Zach understood what they were supposed to mean.
	“Just put down nothing and be done with it.” Zach didn’t want to help, but it’d be rude to just say no when she didn’t really do anything wrong.
	“But then she’ll think I’m cocky or something! Or, worse, that I’m lazy.” Perfectionism. Zach scoffed mentally.
	“Can’t help ya, bye.” He shut the door before she could say another word. His mom jolted awake at the sound.
	“Sweetie, who was that?” she questioned, tiredly rubbing her eyes. She wasn’t aware of Zach’s jealousy.
“The mailman.” Zach’s waffles popped. He sat at the table, munching on waffles slowly and almost angrily. His mom, Coco, stood up and stretched.
	“Can I see the mail, honey?”
	“It wasn’t anything important,” he lied. Coco breathed an ‘okay’ and stole a granola bar out of the box. Zach’s phone rang from upstairs, though he ignored it.
	“Shouldn’t you get that?” Coco wasn’t aware of Zach’s newfound hatred for Blake, either. She was asleep when he came in alone, too. Zach groaned and went upstairs for his phone. Of course it had to be Blake. Pressing the “accept call” button, he instantly stated, “No. Whatever it is, no.” Blake, obviously, ignored him.
	“Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I thought you were dead, man.”
 	“Keep thinking I’m dead.” He hung up. When Blake called back, he hesitated for a little bit. Just a little bit, almost two seconds. But in the end, he decided he was still angry. So he slammed the phone into his bed and stomped downstairs. Coco was putting on a hoodie and getting ready to go to work. “Blake called. He’s coming over. Don’t be rude, dear. Bye.” She kissed Zach on the cheek and rushed out the door.
Zach sat on the living room couch. And, he thought. And he kept thinking. He kept on thinking until he felt like he was about to pass out of thinking. And he decided that he was tired. Mostly of waiting for Blake to get his butt over there, but also of being angry. It was petty. He knew it was petty. He didn’t like that it was petty. So he jumped up from the couch, and called Vanessa.
“Hey, uh...you wanna come over and...work on that project?” he stuttered out.
“Oh, now you want to help me?” Vanessa clearly didn’t forgive him. He couldn’t really blame her.
	“Uh...yes?” There was an audible sigh on the other end. Vanessa hung up and texted him, ‘b ther in a sec.’ Zach was relieved. He ran to the fridge, ready to make amends. Eggs, boiled, done. Bacon? Absolutely. He tore his fridge apart, oven and stove and microwave all running at once. It’s a wonder his house didn’t burn down.
By the time Blake arrived, Zach’s table had enough food on it to feed a hundred colonies of ants and rats. Zach’s phone was also there, with a sticky note next to it. All it said was, “wait on the couch.” So, Blake did. Among the things he was expecting, Vanessa was not one of them. And when she arrived, so did Zach, popping up from behind the table. “Welcome one and all, to Zach’s buffet...place! Uh, I hope the food is...good, and stuff. Oh, and today we have a 100% off sale, so...eat as much as you want?” Zach felt ridiculous as he sung his supposed store’s prayers, but he supposed it was better than feeling like a jerk.
The expressions on their faces was more of shock than anything else. They knew he could cook, but he’s only ever done so when his mom was too drunk to make dinner. Which, granted, was pretty often. Blake was the first to say anything.
“Dude, is that chicken sushi? How the actual heck did you get chicken sushi?” Vanessa was still dumbfounded, trying to figure out how that much food could even fit in Zach’s fridge.
	“I took the leftover grilled chicken, cut it, wrapped it in the sushi Mom ordered yesterday, then put mayonnaise on it. Try a bite, it’s good.” So Blake did. And for a moment, Zach could swear Blake was about to grab the rest and swallow them whole. Luckily, he didn’t.
	After a while, the surprise died down. Vanessa and Blake got into an eating contest, and unsurprisingly, Blake won. Zach also helped Vanessa come up with weaknesses, although some of them weren’t 100% truthful. By the time Coco was coming home, the table had about six plates of food left on it. All the rest was munched on throughout the day. Zach, while not sure if he was really forgiven, felt fine. And, honestly, at this point, that’s all he wanted.