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The realization hit her like a slap. Her eyes looked up, bored into his. "You mean cheat."
He frowned. "Don't go talking that shit out loud." Looking around.
"You're kidding. This's a joke."
"Joke? No, girl. You gonna help me."
Not a question. An order.
She felt she was about to choke or be sick. Her breathing came fast. "I'm not going to do it." She held the organizer out. He didn't take it.
"What's yo' problem? Lotta girls help me."
"Alicia," Geneva whispered angrily, nodding and recalling a girl who'd been in math class with them until recently, Alicia Goodwin, a smart girl, a whiz in math. She'd left school when her family had moved to Jersey. She and Kevin had been tight. So that's what this was all about: When he'd lost his partner, Kevin'd gone looking for a new one and picked Geneva, a better student than her predecessor but not nearly as good-looking. Geneva wondered how far down on the list she'd fallen. Anger and pain raged in her like fire in a boiler. This was even worse than what had happened at the museum this morning. At least the man in the mask hadn't pretended to be her friend.
Judas . . .
Geneva raged, "You got a stable of girls feeding you the answers . . . What'd your GPA be if it weren't for them?"
"I'm not stupid, girl," he whispered angrily. "Just, I don't need to learn this shit. I'll be playing ball and getting tall paper for endorsements the rest of my life. Better for everybody for me to practice, 'sted of study."
" 'For everybody.' " She gave a sour laugh. "So that's where your grades come from: You steal them. Like you'd fiend somebody in Times Square for a gold chain."
"Yo, girl, I telling you, watch yo' mouth," he whispered ominously.
"I'm not helping you," she muttered.
Then he smiled, giving her a lowered-lid gaze. "I'll make it worth yo' while. You come over to my place anytime you want. I'll fuck you good. I'll even go down on you. I know what I'm about in that department."
"Go to hell," she shouted. Heads turned.
"Listen up," he growled, gripping her arm hard. Pain surged. "You got the booty of a ten-year-old and you go round like some blondie from Long Island, thinking you're better'n everybody. A peasyhaired bitch like you can't be too choosy when it comes to a man, you know what I'm saying? Where you gonna find somebody good as me?"
Geneva gasped at the insult. "You're disgusting."
"Okay, girl, fine. You frigid, that's cool. I pay you to help me. How much you want? A C-note. Two? I got tall paper. Come on, name yo' price. I gotta pass this test."
"Then study," she snapped and flung the organizer at him.
He caught it in one hand and yanked her close to him with the other.
"Kevin," a man's voice called sternly.
"Fuck," the boy whispered in disgust, closing his eyes momentarily, letting go of her arm.
Mr. Abrams, the math teacher, walked up and took the organizer away. He looked at it. "What's this?"
"He wanted me to help him cheat," Geneva said.
"The bitch's wack. It's hers and she--"
"Come on, we're going to the office," he said to Kevin.
The boy stared at her with cold eyes. She glared right back.
The teacher asked, "You all right, Geneva?"
She was rubbing her arm where he'd gripped her. She lowered her hand and nodded. "Just want to go to the bathroom for a few minutes."
