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“Is he at least cute?”
“Lexi! That’s gross.” I grabbed my chicken salad back from her. “And not at all the point.” I took a bite to calm the blush I felt rushing into my cheeks because Henry Walton was ridiculous, stupid, frustrating—
and cute.
I punched my fork in my salad, focusing on each piece of cubed chicken and trying to rid my mind of Henry Watson.
After lunch, I said goodbye to Lexi and headed to music class, my favorite time of the day. I knew the students playing their instruments—even offbeat and out of tune—would give me a little peace before I had to find Henry and set up our tutoring schedule. Typically, the advanced music course was only for seniors, but I’d proven I was mature enough to handle the work and keep my perfect GPA. Plus, it was another perk of being on scholarship because the school packed my schedule with extra-curricular activities and upper-division classes to make their stats about scholarship students look good.
I made my way into the auditorium and to my usual seat, front and center. I didn’t like the very front because it made me look like a try-hard, but I hated looking at the backs of people’s heads, so I settled on the second row from the front and smack dab in the center to have a direct view of the teacher. The ceilings in the auditorium were as high as a church, with brightly colored, stained-glass windows that let the outside light seep in like rainbows across the dark wood walls. I took out my notebook, which was color-coded blue for music class, and skimmed what our music teacher taught us last week.
Mrs. Parker was strict like most teachers at Riverview Academy, but she was also a hot mess and one of my role models. Her hair was always a tangled bun, and her glasses that hung around her neck on a beaded chain came off when she spoke to us then back on when she read from her notes—an exercise that looked exhausting. She went off on tangents about life and the future, and what we needed to do to be better people. For me, it wasn’t really about the music she taught as much as listening to her give advice that I imagined my mom might’ve had she not been busy fixing boyfriends.
As I looked through my notes, I heard a familiar voice and looked up. Henry had walked in with Eric, another spoiled rich kid in our grade. They were laughing about God knows what—probably how hilarious it is that they have two jets to choose from when they want to fly anywhere. I quickly looked back down at my notebook but not before Henry caught my gaze and lifted his chin up slightly and raised his eyebrows, as if to acknowledge my existence.
I scribbled on my notes and tried to focus on the rhythmic drumming a kid was practicing somewhere in the expansive classroom.
Suddenly, my eyes focused on what I’d written.
Henry.
Then, my ears focused on the drumming, and I realized no one was playing.
It was my heart pounding.
Damnit.
So much for a few moments of peace.
Five minutes late—which was early for her—Mrs. Parker finally showed up. She burst through the door, her overstuffed bag falling off her shoulder and a wrinkled blouse she’d clearly spilled coffee on.
“If you ever think that the world will just wait for you to—” Mrs. Parker began.
I smiled, thankful to forget that Henry Walton had sat down two rows behind me and three rows to my left—not that I’d noticed.
After an hour of life lessons and flute practice, class was over. Like ripping off a Band-Aid before a cut has healed, I knew talking to Henry was going to sting, but it had to be done. To get it over with, I waited for the class to clear out and for him to stop talking to Eric. Looking around, I saw he was already on his way out, which meant I had to chase him down.
Great.
I walked quickly to catch up and called out softly, but it still sounded a bit too excited. “Hey, Henry!”
He turned around. “Oh, hey, uhhhh...?”
“Grace is my name. All morning that has been my name. All my life, in fact.” I scoffed.
“I’ll get it eventually, Tutor Girl.” He chuckled and pushed his deep brown bangs out of his deeper brown eyes.
Let’s just get this over with, I told myself. The Grace I know—the one who I’ve known for sixteen years and before this nightmare of a day—would've walked away without wasting another breath on a guy who was clearly pretending not to remember her name. But that wasn't an option because of what was at stake, so I kept my cool and grinned.
“As your new tutor, I want to plan out when we can meet because—believe it or not—I have a life, too.” I continued in the same breath, not giving him a second to speak. “I try to get in at least two hours after school to study on my own, and we’ll need at least two together, but we can always—"
“Two hours?” Henry interrupted. “I don’t remember agreeing to losing my whole night or even getting tutored by you. My other tutors have always been older and never girls.” He smirked, loving that he was getting under my skin.
Biting my lip to keep myself from saying something I’d regret about his ignorant, misogynistic comment, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Look, if you had concerns, you should’ve spoken to the headmaster. Hell, I would’ve been grateful if you had! But you chickened out, and now, we’re stuck with each other, so I’ll keep this quick.”
Henry rolled his eyes and started walking toward the door.
“Hey! Where are you going?” I raced to catch up and continued. “I can help you three nights a week after class. We can get the first one over tonight at five in the basement across from—"
