Saturday, December 3rd

81.)

I slept. I actually slept, and my head wasn't full of cotton and sickness. I could focus. I could study. Of course, my fingers were covered in bandaids and I had slathered my arms in antibacterial cream. I had switched to long-sleeve jackets, but the friction tore off my bandages.

I climbed into the passenger seat of Blossom's car, bundled up tight in my coat, and shivered impatiently as the heat took its time warming me up. No pastries today.

"Hey there studypal! Are you excited to do some learning, Blossom style?"

Blossom was chipper and dressed far too revealingly for this weather; she wore a long scarf and a beanie, but her skirt was still short and while she had gloves on, her midriff was also exposed.

"Don't you know how cold it is?" I asked, a little incredulously. Blossom always dressed like this, but it was like thirty degrees outside! There was a light sheet of sleet on the morning grass. There comes a time when looking good is impractical.

"Beauty is pain, cupcake. And besides, when I'm cold my skin gets all flushed and that looks hot as heck, right?" Maybe she was fishing for a compliment.

"Hypothermia isn't hot, Blossom. It is quite literally the opposite."

Blossom pulled out of my driveway and started the two-hour trip up to the beach house. I took off my mittens and flexed my fingers. I knew Blossom would see them sooner or later; it wasn't worth hiding. And anyway, I didn't have a choice right now. School came first.

"Oh cupcake; you didn't tell me how anxious you'd been. I would have prepared better. Are you alright?"

It was very hard for Blossom not to be callous. Her natural response would have been something along the lines of "why are you doing that? don't be dumb" but Amy wasn't like her other friends.

"Yeah, it's fine." I said it so candidly. I had already anticipated this conversation. "This happens every time I have finals. It happened in high school too. It's really not a big deal anymore." Honestly, it looked worse than it was. This was all passive anxiety since I was unable to keep my hands busy. As long as I didn't have a panic attack, I'd be okay.

"Does it hurt? is there anything I can do to help?" Blossom was pretty practical with her questions, which was contrary to most of her life.

"Nah, no worries." I smiled at her to alleviate her concern. It was a real smile too! I slept. I was on top of most of my studying. The passive anxiety was totally manageable, even if it manifested in less-than-ideal ways.

"Are you going to be able to write? I have a pretty cool note-taking and studying system with different color pens and stuff but if you can't write it could be a problem." Blossom sounded quite concerned, but in a maternal way.

"Yeah, it's really no problem. I have my laptop too, and typing is a little easier than holding a pencil sometimes." Blossom still looked concerned, so I decided to be more direct. "Blossom. Really. It's fine, okay? I'll tell you if you can do anything to help. Can we please work on stuff now?"

Blossom nodded and began to go over her plans for studying while she drove the car. She had her rituals; proper music, proper food, lots of colored pens, and a stack of index cards for testing herself. And she went over each of the steps with Amy, talking about why she did each thing.

A lot of Blossom's ideas were really good, actually. I did some of them, like using index cards. Thankfully we had each other, so I was banking on Blossom being my index card. Likewise, I could be hers. Isn't the best way to learn something to teach it? Or did I make that up?

We ran through the first two pages of questions on the way there. I knew what I was talking about, but articulating it was a lot harder for me. I wanted to find the right words, the ones that appeared in the book, but Blossom could paraphrase and make connections to other things. It was a lot like when we did that roleplay: I felt so anxious about making sure I did every line correctly that I kept stumbling. She was so adaptable.

By the time we arrived at the beach house, I felt exhausted. My brain felt like it was already full. If I could forget stuff - like song lyrics or the eighty French words I'd learned in high school - maybe I would have more room.

Or potty training. Think about all the space in my brain that was taking up. Blossom could lead me inside her beach house and show me her new VR game console or something. I could play a game with colored lights and before I knew it, the whole afternoon would have passed us by.

I would feel strangely invigorated. I'd sit down to study and everything would come so naturally. I'd be able to remember so many new things. But then, out of nowhere, I'd feel hot under my bottom. I'd look down when I started to hear the pitter patter of water drops.

Blossom would look over at me with a sigh. She would ask:

"Couldn't you make it to the potty?"

I'd stare at her blankly.

"What's a potty?"

She would change me into a fresh diaper. I'd argue that I didn't need them, but she would ask:

"Well, how will you keep your pants dry?"

I wouldn't have an answer. How was I supposed to do that? I couldn't. Diapers were the only way, even though they were for babies. So I'd have to wear them. I'd have to admit I needed my diapers.

But I'd pass my exam, no problem.

Alas, Blossom didn't have a new VR game. I would have to study the old-fashioned way.

When they got to the beach house, Blossom was positively vibrating with excitement ~ she honestly loved studying, she loved learning, she loved filling her head just as much as she liked having sex with people. And she liked that a lot.

She wondered, looking at Amy, what her cupcake was thinking.

Blossom led the way inside and got the chill vibes music going before heading into the kitchen area to start making popcorn.

We reviewed the first two pages. I retained very little of the information, and it was a little frustrating. I slumped forward on my elbows and twirled a pencil between my fingers. I tried to use Blossom's analogies to better understand the concepts, but honestly we thought about things in very different ways. She was so math-based. I was in basic algebra. So why the fuck did I take chemistry? Because I didn't want to cut open a frog or whatever they did in biology, and I needed a science credit.

"Remember, knowledge isn't about what you cram in, it's about what you can drag out. So learning is about recall. When you learn how to do liquid eyeliner, you don't learn anything by watching YouTube videos; it's remembering the YouTube videos and using that remembered knowledge. So reading the source material is how you get it up in the air, but remembering it is how you catch it."

"Yeah, that's great to know, but it doesn't actually help me remember anything." I was sour. I was taking it out on Blossom a little bit, but she didn't seem to mind. She knew I wasn't frustrated with her; I was just frustrated. I picked up the study guide again.

"Compare and contrast state functions and path functions..." State functions depended on just the initial and the final, but path functions were dependent on other variables. But if someone asked me a question about anything but the definition, I would have no idea how to apply it.

Blossom took a few moments to consider how best to explain this in a way that wasn't going to make Amy more anxious. She didn't want to overwhelm her, and she didn't want to make things hard to understand, but she also didn't want to be patronizing. Finally, she pulled her hair up in a ponytail with the scrunchie around her wrist and then clasped her palms together.

"So everything is either a state function or a path function, it's one or the other. Think about distance, alright, the distance between two points. Like if you Google Maps something, it'll give you different variations of distance to get from point A and point B, but the distance between the two points doesn't ever change. So it's a state function, but time..."

Blossom watched Amy and realized with all certainty that she was losing her with this analogy.

"Okay, alright, forget that. Uhh...how to explain..."

She snapped her fingers like she'd come up with the simplest and most straightforward way of expressing it.

"So think about temperature and heat. Temperature is state, while heat is path, because something is a temperature, but when you think about heat you're not thinking about a static concept, you're thinking about change, about addition and subtraction. You either add heat or you subtract heat, and that's what makes it a path function because the path you take is what matters. So like... think about temperature being a state function; no matter how much you heat or cool or whatever else, the only things that matter are where it starts and where it ends, so you can determine the net change. Go up by 20 and then down by 20 and it's no change at all. But if you did the same thing to heat, you'd have changed it by 40 units of heat."

Blossom seemed happy with her explanation, proud of herself even.

But Amy looked like misery incarnate.

"I have no fucking idea what you're talking about," I said sharply, but with perhaps not enough energy to do much damage. Like someone lightly poking a couch cushion rather than stabbing it. I felt tears in my eyes and dropped my pencil on the table, putting my head down so she wouldn't see me cry. I hated crying in front of people.

"Hey, it's okay... we can figure it out."

Blossom's voice was kind, but that made it worse. I just shook my head because I didn't want to snap at her again. After a moment of silence, Blossom finally said:

"Okay... imagine you have a baby bottle."

"I don't wanna do this," I said, muffled by my arms.

"Give it a chance," Blossom said. "You have a baby bottle. It holds, what... 15 fluid ounces? You turn this bottle around. You flip it upside down. You drink some. You water your garden with it. You try to take off the lid and spill it all over yourself. So I take it and refill it. I give it back to you. How many fluid ounces are in it?"

"I dunno..." I muttered. "Fifteen?" The idea of watering a garden with a baby bottle was kind of cute. I never had an actual bottle, not in my adult life anyway.

"Right. So, volume. Is that a state or path function?"

"...state?" I was guessing, but I think it almost made sense. The only thing that mattered was how much was in the bottle at the start and that it was refilled to the same amount at the end. No change. So it was 15 fluid ounces.

Blossom beamed and nodded her head, and then thought about how to elaborate on the demonstration.

"So let's now think about time. Say you drink the baby bottle, the whole thing, and it takes you liiike... fifteen minutes, and then I notice your diaper is still dry and refill it, because obviously your diaper is better when it's wet. You take another fifteen minutes to drink it. Is time a state function, or a path function?"

I felt a bit of heat on my cheeks. First of all, diapers are not better wet! They're just different... but that didn't answer the question.

"State, because it takes the same amount of time? Wait..." I paused to think about that. "It doesn't have to though, right? Like I could drink faster or slower... so it might not be fifteen minutes..." Did those count as different paths? Was changing speed a pathway? I shook my head. Different example. If the change was a full bottle to an empty bottle, I could suck on it until it was gone. I could open the top and pour it out. I could water a garden with it. Those were different paths, and ended with different times. But all of them ended with the same volume - zero.

"So it's a path function, right?"

"Right! It's a path function! You got it, cupcake! Look at you, I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, I guess..." I lifted my head and looked at Blossom with a bit of embarrassment. I hated that she had to put things in baby speak for me to get it, but it was a lot more engaging than math speak.

"Let's try another one, okay?" Blossom asked.

I groaned. I didn't want to get it wrong and seem like an idiot. Though it was better to get it wrong now than on the test, right?

"Let's do another one, alright? Let's dooo...."

Blossom put her thumb and forefinger to her chin just like the emoji, and then nodded her head.

"So you've been a bad girl - or a good girl - and you find your friend Blossom holding you down. Maybe... she's pinning you to the bed, because she's going to put you in your place, or change your diaper, or otherwise do as she pleases. She puts pressure on you to hold you in place. When you squirm, there could be more pressure needed to hold you in place, or when you're a good girl, there could be less. Is pressure state or path?"

"Um..." Path, right? It could have different variables affecting it? But... then again...

"Talk it out," Blossom encouraged.

"Um... path, I think? But... I guess the pressure you're putting on me... holding me down... that's like... I dunno, say 10 pressure or whatever." I wasn't bothering with units right now. "And you have to hold me tighter, which is 20 pressure, but then you lighten up again... you're still only putting 10 pressure on me. Not 30. Because that would be more, not less."

So what the fuck did that mean?!

"State, I think. Because all that matters is how it started - zero pressure - and how it ends. If you're being gentle, then it doesn't matter that you were rough to get there. It's still gentle."

The implications of what I was saying brought some heat to my cheeks. Gosh, her pinning me down like that...

"Good job, cupcake! What about work, same situation?"

"Path," I said with confidence, but I was unable to make eye contact with Blossom. "If I squirm and you have to hold me in place, even once I calm down... you still lost all that energy?"

"Exactly! See, you get it. You just needed it put in terms that make sense to you. I think a lot of school stuff and learning is about finding a way to express it that makes sense." Blossom was positively beaming with pride.

"Thanks," I muttered, still blushing. I picked up my pencil and flipped the page.

"Wanna take a break?" Blossom asked.

"No, uh... I think I can keep going a while." My mood certainly did change.

Blossom was an organizational machine; the way she studied involved taking up the entirety of a surface. In this case, that meant the kitchen counter. Amy sat at the dining table, adjacent, and Blossom spent almost all of her time standing, or bouncing from foot to foot, or grooving. She'd shift her focus from her work to Amy's and back again without fluidity and grace, and every time she'd look at Amy's work she'd get this happy little smile.

We went through worksheets and packets and handouts for most of the afternoon. Blossom was done with chemistry after only an hour and started working on a different class. It wasn't until I started to feel queasy that I closed my textbook. Blossom made pasta for a late lunch slash early dinner. It was something out of a box, with sauce out of a can. It was still pretty good.

In the evening, Blossom and I went through the end-of-chapter quizzes together. By nine at night, I actually felt confident. I felt like I could actually ace this test!

"When are we leaving tomorrow?" I asked, sulking into the couch and putting the closed textbook on my stomach.

"Last study group," Blossom said. "So the usual time."

"Well... I'm glad I came out here," I admitted. "I think I learned a lot more with your help." She really was a genius. Sometimes I had no idea how she remembered the things she did.

"I'm glad you came out here, too. And I'm glad I was able to help you get your head around some of the stuff. You're a really clever gal, cupcake; you don't give yourself enough credit for that. Neither of us is smarter than the other, we're just different learners."

"Yeah, but the American education system favors your particular brand of intelligence," I countered.

"That's true," Blossom laughed.

"Ugh, I feel stressed..."

"I thought you were feeling confident about the test?"

"I am," I pouted. "And I still feel stressed. It's like... residual anxiety and... stupid feelings. They just stay inside me for hours and hours. Even after I do the thing I'm supposed to do." It was really annoying to be honest.

"Then let's reward you. Let's get diapered together and snuggle on the sofa and watch Bluey? You've earned it, and I still have one more bag of popcorn?"

"Yeah? I guess I've earned it..." Diapered with Blossom. It made my heart swell with butterflies.

Diapering was becoming incredibly routine. We both opted for white ones because the fit was so much better. I wished I had the mediums in pink, but alas. Beggars can't be choosers, and I was quite literally a beggar. Blossom paid for all our diapers and the gas to get to the beach house. Actually, that latter expense must have been costing her a small fortune. Four hours, every weekend? With gas prices the way they were? I vowed to pay her back in Academy Works chapters.

Speaking of, I brought my laptop with me. I could probably write. But I was so tired. Instead, I sat in my usual spot on the sofa in my pajamas and crinkly underwear to watch Bluey with my ex-bully.