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“Are you in the shower?” She asked.
“You want me to be on time, right?” I laughed. “My tutor gets annoyed when I’m late!”
Back in the basement—which, strangely, didn’t feel at all weird, anymore—we went through a few more trig problems then some chemistry.
“I don’t get all this proton-electron stuff. It’s more math, deciding how many negatives and positives do what.” I scratched out the answers I knew were wrong in my notebook, knowing I could probably understand it all if I stopped staring at her hair hanging down over her face and those pouty lips that came so close to mine last night. I flipped the page back to the trig problems I solved at four in the morning and tapped my pencil on one. “I mean, when I went over the math this morning, I—”
“Wait! What?” Grace interrupted me. “You got up early to study?” She cocked her head to the side and lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose. “Who’s the nerd now, Mr. Walton?” We both laughed.
“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I gotta a reputation to protect.” I tossed my pencil at her. “Besides, I told you the deal.” I leaned back and put my hands behind my head. “You’re supposed to be doing my homework, while I watch.”
She rolled her eyes as we heard the first bell of the morning ring. “Shoot! It’s time for class! Let’s go, Super Nerd! We don’t want to be late for the quiz you’re about to ace!”
Never one to rush to a class—ever—Grace took two steps for every one of mine. As we rounded the corner to the math building, I remembered her text last night. “Hey wait up! I need to ask you something!”
She stopped; her hazel eyes looked worried. “Is everything okay? You’re not nervous, are you? I mean, Ms. Martin might not give a quiz, you know?”
“No, it’s not that. You just seemed upset about the text from your mom. Is she okay?”
‘Oh, thanks.” She started walking, again, but slow enough to let me keep up.
“Yeah, I mean, I don’t want to bug you about it, but I’ve just never worried about my parents. I barely even talk to them to tell you the truth.”
I saw Grace swallow like she was nervous talking about her mom. “She's fine. It’s just that ever since I came to Riverview, she’s been on her own.” Grace looked down and kicked a rock off the sidewalk. “I feel guilty, I guess. Like I’m here, living in a dorm with literal ivy growing down its sides, and she’s there, working long hours then coming home to take care of everything by herself.”
“Oh, that’s rough. But I’m sure she’s proud of you, right?”
“Yeah.” Grace nodded as she walked. “She is.”
We turned the corner and started walking up the steps into the building. Grace stopped and looked at me, letting out what sounded like all her breath. “I was raised by a single mom, and we struggled—to say the least. She worked her ass off—and still does. I was lucky to get my scholarship because I wouldn’t be here without it.” Grace snickered and rolled her eyes at herself. “That, Mr. Walton, is why I’m all about my grades. If they’re not perfect, I’m gone.”
“Then, how come you’re wasting time tutoring me when you should be focused on your own classes?”
“Well, that’s a funny story.” She turned and started walking up the steps. “If I didn’t agree to tutor you, the headmaster told me it might have an effect on my scholarship.”
I opened the door for her. “So, you’re basically being blackmailed into helping me? That sucks.”
Grace stopped inside, just as the final bell rang.
“Shit! We’re late!” I looked down the hall toward our classroom. “It’s all my fault.”
She took my hand. “I honestly don’t care. And tutoring you hasn’t turned out to be that bad. It’s a nice break from the million things running around in my ridiculous brain.”
Holding her hand sent electricity running up and down my spine, like the lightning the night before. All I wanted to do was pull her to me and finish that kiss. I knew better, though. “Ridiculous is what I’m best at, so maybe we aren’t as different as we thought.” I felt my face heating up and realized I was blushing—something else Grace made me do that I’ve done before. “And I’ll make you a deal. If she gives us a quiz, and I fail, you’re off the hook because obviously that means I’m an idiot who can’t be helped.”
Just then, Ms. Martin looked out in the hall before closing her classroom door. “Excuse me? Will you both be gracing us with your presence today?”
4
Visitation Day
Grace
Every tree on campus was in its full autumn glory—bright red, deep orange, and golden leaves covered branches and fell softly and slowly to the ground each time a gust of wind blew past. This season always made Riverview feel like the set of a rom-com, where I could imagine a beautiful main character tossing a pile of perfectly shaped leaves in the air then giggling with her face toward the sky as they rained down on her blond curls. Of course, I was the studious best friend holding her phone and filming her being adorable, so she could post it on her social media where the boy of her dreams would see it and do everything he could to find the girl in the video who he knew was his destiny.
But Henry—who was definitely the main character in every scene of his life—made me feel like I might be more than the dorky sidekick. He held open doors for me, had his personal chef make my favorite foods, and always offered to carry my bag—of course, I never let him.
For the past month, we’ve met in our basement to study, and Henry had become a decent student—strong enough in chemistry he sometimes flipped the script and tutored me. He'd dropped the attitude and picked up decent habits—like reviewing his notes before class and completing any extra credit our teachers offered. A few weeks ago, I would’ve never imagined introducing Henry to my mom on Visitation Day, but he’s not the bad boy billionaire he was that first day I met him.
