I haven’t shed one tear over him, not because I don’t care, but because I physically can’t. What would be the point of crying? Would it bring him back?
My eyes drift to the ceiling. I don’t know where people go after they leave this world. Is he up there watching me? Or sitting next to me? Does he know how miserable I am? Can he see my future? Will I be okay? Or am I doomed to be angry and lonely for the rest of my life?
The chemistry teacher gives us quiet work. We’re to read a chapter and answer the questions in the back. No one is sitting at my table, which means I don’t have a partner. Fine with me because I’d rather be alone.
Mrs. Sullivan walks up and down the rows, inspecting the students’ work. When she stops at my table, she taps my shut textbook.
I haven’t had a chance to get started on the questions because I was too busy thinking about my dad, his bright, smiling face and how happy I used to be.
“The assignment was for everyone, young man,” she states.
I slowly glance up at her, noting the disappointed expression on her face. What should I tell her? That I was thinking about my dead dad and how much I miss him? Would she cut mesome slack? Or would she run to tattle to Mom that her son is neglecting his schoolwork?
“Don’t think I’ll give you special treatment because you’re Ms. Harrington’s son,” she states, louder than she needs to. By now, most of the kids have stopped their work and are watching me. I catch my tutor with narrowed eyes, as if she doesn’t like what she sees.
“Never asked for special treatment,” I mutter.
She purses her lips. “I want every question answered and on my desk at the end of class. If you fail to do so, you will fail my class.”
Fail the class? I’m new and haven’t learned this stuff yet. Darn it. This school is a prison and the teachers are the wardens.
“Mrs. Sullivan?” Sophie gets to her feet. “Can I talk to you, please?”
She and the teacher meet at the teacher’s desk and Sophie tells her something. Both of them look in my direction, so it’s obvious they’re talking about me. Is she convincing her not to fail me because I’m behind in my classes?
The teacher nods as Sophie talks. A few minutes later, Sophie returns to her desk and Mrs. Sullivan heads over to me.
“I understand you didn’t learn this yet and will have a tutor to help you catch up,” she says. “Never mind the assignment. You’re free to do what you please until the end of class, but don’t distract the other students.” She walks off.
She’s making me feel stupid. Like I’m behind because these classes are too difficult for me. But I shrug because I don’t really care and busy myself with my phone.
I feel eyes on me, and when I glance up, I find my tutor watching me. When she notices I’ve caught her, she quickly glances away. Does she think I’m stupid, too? Why do I care?
I have no idea what I want to do with my life. What future I want to have. Dad always told me the world is mine to conquer.
My grades are good—or theywere. Something tells me that an A at my previous school is a D in this school.
But I can raise my grades on my own. It might be hard work, but I’m sure I can do it. Why does my mother think I need a tutor?
Sophie glances at me one more time before she pulls her gaze away.
***
I’m tempted to ditch this whole tutoring thing. Just to throw it in my mom’s face. But it’s not just me and my mom who are involved in this. There’s another person, and she’s taking the time to meet me in the school library. It’d be really jerkish of me to ditch, even though I want to really badly.
I make my way to the library, passing many kids who stop and stare at me. I’ve taken off the school blazer and replaced it with my leather jacket. School’s over, so why should I wear this nerdy uniform? I know the leather jacket and ticked-off look on my face might cause others to be taken aback. As long as they keep their distance from me, we all win.
Most kids my age want friends. I just want to be left alone, where I don’t have to pretend to be okay and happy. Because I’mnotokay and happy.
At the entrance to the library, I peek inside. There are a few students here, but the place is mostly empty. I spot a girl with brown hair sitting at one of the tables. She’s bent over a book, reading so intently I bet an explosion wouldn’t shatter her focus.
Hmm. I guess it makes sense that a goody-goody like Sophie is obsessed with reading. She seems so into it I’m sure it’d be a crime to interrupt her.
Maybe it’s best Idoleave.
But I stay and watch her. I’ve never seen anyone’s face light up the way hers does right now. As if she’s the happiest person on the planet. I wonder if she’s gone through hardships. Mostpeople have something on their plate, but there are the few lucky ones who have amazing lives. I was one of them before Dad was snatched from me.
Something settles inside me as I continue to watch her read. That calmness I talked about when I draw? I feel it now as well. Does reading calm her down? Does it distract her from any hardships she may have?
