Fifteen minutes later I'm sitting in a Panera Bread, one hand spinning a pen I found stashed in my car, the other clutching my phone. 

"He's the only one who didn't do anything!"

"Yes, I know." 

"And he thinks he can just get away with it? We may be seniors but we all need to graduate! Why can't he think of the rest of us!"

I feel a nerve in my forehead bulge. "Yes, I-"

"Sir, your order?" I look up.

"Cream of chicken soup and a Bacon Turkey Sandwich?"

"Yes." I gaze at the steam wafting out from the soup as I imagine my mother's shock if she knew what I was eating right now. I officially quit being a vegetarian three years ago. However, my family doesn't know this and I intend to keep it that way unless I want constant matchmaking to be the least of my worries. 

"Hey, are you paying attention?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Don't just uh me, do something!"

"Well what do you want me to do? At best we do his part ourselves and give him notecards to use when we present."

"But then there's no way we can get an A, Prof will be able to tell!"

"Look, we've tried calling him, going to his house-"

"Where he never is." She grumbles.

"-we've tried everything. Clearly, Jackson isn't going to do his part-"

"Can I borrow your pen?" I look up. It's a guy, Asian in a Chinese or Japanese way, short and slender looking. He has silver blonde hair, his bangs falling into his pale face and dark twinkling eyes. His slightly full lips are open in a soft smile.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." I hand him my pen and he turns to face a woman with short brown hair. She hands him a book and he opens a page and writes in it. Autograph?

"Ram?"

"Yeah, sorry. Okay, so I'll do..."

Fifteen minutes later we've sketched out a rough outline. 

"Okay, see you in class then." I say.

"Ugh, another all-nighter!" You're not the only one you know. 

"Yeah, okay I'll see you." I hurriedly hang up, head over to dispose of my tableware, then I'm out the door, my footsteps brisk and light. Thank God that's over. 

"Wait! Wait!" About two steps from my car I hear a frantic voice behind me. Are they calling me? I turn around. It's the Asian guy. He's panting as he half runs towards me, his fuzzy yellow sweater flapping in the wind. 

"Yeah, is something wrong?"

"Your", huff, "pen". He holds up the commonplace blue Bic. I blink in surprise.

"Uh...thanks." I reach out and grab it. Somehow, he doesn't let go and comes toppling towards me, landing right in my arms with one hand braced against my chest. I blink again.

"Uh you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine! Sorry!" He yelps backing away. I scratch the back of my head, my curls bouncing. What's with this atmosphere?

"So is that all then?" I start to turn towards my car.

"Wait!" 

"Hmm?"

"Can I-can I have your number?" I pause.  My number, why would he...? Then I notice his red ears. As I look at his downcast gaze and fidgeting fingers, I can hear my mothers' voice: "Find a nice Tamil girl, a nice Tamil girl, a nice Tamil-"

"Sure". My lip quirks up in a half smile. I spin the pen. "Do you have piece of paper?"

"Ye-yeah, right here." He pulls one out and I uncap my newly returned pen. 

"I'm Ram, you are?"

"I’m Chen."

"Nice to meet you Chen." I look up and smile at him. He blushes.