I feel a little bad for how sarcastic I am during the duration of our tutoring session. But I really can’t help it. Jonah is so hyper focused on work, work, work, and he never wants to joke around or get off topic. He’s just so serious all the time. And the worst part? That look in his eyes when he bothers to take his focus off the papers in front of him. When he truly looks at me, I see something reflecting back on his features that scares me a little.
The boy genuinely wants me to succeed. It’s not because we’re friends or anything, because we aren’t. It’s probably just because every person he turns from a failure to an honor roll student looks good on his college applications. But I can see it plainly on his features: he wants me to succeed.
And that’s just too much pressure for me.
What If I still fail? What if I screw up not only my chance of graduating without summer school, but his record as well? I’d hate to be the only student in his notebook whose grades didn’t improve after working with him.
“So, I thought we’d work on chemistry today,” Jonah says, pulling me from my thoughts. As always, he’s been talking this whole time and I haven’t been listening.
“I hate chemistry,” I say with a groan.
“I know, but you have a test on Monday. It’ll be here before you know it.”
“Seriously?” I say, and then I cringe because I totally said that way too loud for the library. I look over at the librarian and she’s staring at me. Oops.
“Natalie, what are you doing in class besides listening to the teacher?”
I pick at my cuticles. Today in chemistry, they were going over some five page worksheet—which I just now realize was probably the test review—and it was all so stressful I spent most of the time on my phone, trying to spruce up The Magpie’s Facebook page. When I tell Jonah this, his jaw falls open.
“I know, I know,” I say, holding up a hand. “I am the worst student ever, and if I want help and must also help myself, and your tutoring record will be ruined because of me, and you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he says quickly. “I’m not thinking any of that. I’m trying to think of a good way to teach a student who doesn’t want to be taught.”
His eyes look off into the distance and then his face lights up. “I’ve got it. Come with me.”
I follow him to the back of the library to a row of computers that face the back wall. “You really hate studying the textbook, so I think a computer lesson might really help you. Plus, you can do it at home.”
He pulls out a computer chair and motions for me to sit. He leans over me and turns on the computer screen, then opens the browser. “Have you heard of ChemXLabs?” he asks.
“You smell good,” I say.
I clamp my hand over my mouth. I didnotmean to say that.Oh my God, Natalie, what are you thinking?
I mean, I know exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking that Jonah is hovering over my shoulder and he smells like soap again and it’s such a nice smell compared to guys like Caleb who have got it going on in every possible way, yet they smell weird.
Jonah ignores my comment, which is probably for the best. He pulls up the school’s website and then clicks on the links for students. ChemXLabs is on the list.
“I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t used it,” I tell him.
He clicks on the log in then releases the computer mouse for me. “Just log in and I’ll show you how to set it up. You can pick the chapter you’re studying in chemistry right now and it’ll give you practice tests that pretty accurately match the one you’ll get in real life.”
“How do I log in?” I ask, looking back at him.
“It’s just your school log in for all of these websites.”
My lips squish to the side of my mouth. His eyes widen and he puts his hands on his hips. “You’ve never logged into these sites before?”
I shake my head.
“In all your four years of high school?”
I lift my shoulders and bite my lip, trying to look somewhat innocent. He rolls his eyes. “It’s SHD in all caps, and then your birthdate. The password is SHD2017. That’s the same username and password you can use to sign into all of theseveryhelpful school approved study sites,” he says. “You might want to write it down and use it sometime.”
“Thank you, Mr. Garza,” I say sarcastically. “You’re so smart and helpful.”
He doesn’t respond to my sarcasm, of course I didn’t expect him to.
“So my username is SHD,” I say, typing in the letters.
