“Pers, I will throw this banana at yourhead.”
“You ate the banana.”
Rowan exhales through his nose, the long Rowan exhale, the one that saysI am the only adult here and the burden is heavy.”Okay. Hey. Benson. It’s a tutor. It’s not that deep.”
“It’s not that deep,” I agree.
“We have the first Hawthorne House rule to follow,” Stanley says.
My phone rings. It rings face-up, on the table, where everyone can see it, and the screen lights up withGiannaand a photo of her at fifteen wearing a homemade Halloween costume of a dustpan. I have had this contact photo for six years, and I’m never changing it.
The boys all look at the phone. It keeps ringing.
“Oh,” Stanley says, slowly, his entire face starting to do something terrible, “ohthis is going to be good—”
I pick up the phone and walk into the living room.
“Benson Allen Reeve.”
I swallow. “That’s a lot of names this early in the day.”
“Why,” she asks, “did you request Lucy as your tutor?”
I stop pacing. “I didn’t request anyone specific. I called the tutoring center thirty minutes ago and gave them my class.”
“Well. I got a text from her ninety seconds ago that was your name in all caps and a screenshot of the email. I’m pretty sure she’s losing her mind right now.”
I sit down on the arm of the couch, confused. “Why is she losing her mind?”
“Because you’re my brother.”
She doesn’t explain, but I don’t need her to. We’ve done this before with her other friends. It was mainly back in high school when I loved the attention.
She says, “I texted her back and told her to cancel.”
“Don’t tell her to cancel,” I deadpan.
“Benson—”
“Don’t, G. I’m serious.”
She raises her voice a little. “You’re my brother, and she’s my roommate.”
“I need a tutor.”
“You can use me.”
“Coach said I have to get one through the college.”
I can hear her on the other end deciding whether to push it.
“Coach said,” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You’re failing.”
“I’m — I’m not failing. I’m not in great shape.”
