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“It’s a practice exam. I’ll help me get an idea of where to start. If you don’t know anything, leave it blank.”
He was slow to pick the paper up and even slower to grab a pencil from his backpack. A part of me had awhateverattitude—he could waste all the time he wanted. But the other part, the smarter part, remembered the goal. For me to snag my coveted valedictorian spot, this meathead needed to pass the exam. For him to pass, he needed to be serious. We both did.
Connor pulled out his own Algebra II textbook from his backpack and used it as a surface to write on, squaring his shoulders as he analyzed the first equation.
And then he stopped. Looked up at me. Considered me. “So, have you thought about what you want in return for tutoring?”
I stared at him.
“How much do you usually charge, anyway? Fifty bucks? I’ll double it.”
“I don’t charge.”
That seemed to intrigue him, and he made a softmmmsound. He’d only turned back to his exam for a second before squinting at me again. “Your friends with the girl who runs Brentwood Babble, aren’t you? She was sitting at your lunch table today.”
“Can you please focus?” I demanded, rubbing a hand over my forehead. This guy was going to give me premature frown lines. “You need to getsomethingdone today.”
“I’m making sure this won’t end up on the site,” Connor said, gesturing between us flippantly. “You can’t tell her.”
It was a good thing we weren’t sitting at the table in the front, because with the way he ordered me around, I probably would’ve flipped it. “There’s nothing to tell if you don’t concentrate.”
Connor rolled his eyes as he turned back to the paper, letting out a disparaging sigh. I leaned against the bookshelf while he worked through the quiz, every so often tilting his head as if he could shake loose an answer from his brain.
A line of concentration marred the middle of his forehead, and the longer he worked through the sheet, the less confident his expression became. It was something I knew well—for some students, it was embarrassing to admit they didn’t know things, embarrassing to ask for help.
But no way was Connor Bray embarrassed.
“All right,” he said after five minutes, passing the paper back. His voice was considerably softer, less cocky. “Done.”
I scanned over the questions, finding his shaky circles surrounding the incorrect answers. I blinked at them, but the circles didn’t move. “I said if you didn’t know something to leave it blank.”
Connor gave me a glare. “I thought Ididknow it.”
“You got over half of them wrong.”
“Gee, wonder why I failed the class in the first place.”
This was more than needing a refresher on the subject. “Did you not pay attention at all last year?”
“Oh, I’m sorry that I spent an entire summer forgetting what x equals. And jeez, are you always so judgey?” Loathing coated his features as he pressed his fingers against his temple. “It’s great that math comes easily to you, but for normal people, it’s tough.”
“Normal people. Right, because since I enjoy math, that makes me not normal.” I leaned forward. “Just because I’m goodat math, it means I’m the most likely to marry a math book?”
“No, what’s not normal is how high and mighty you act,” he fired right back, slamming the book down on the floor. “Like everyone’s beneath you.”
My jaw literally dropped. “Oh, Iact like that? What about you, Mr. Star Football Player?”
“I’ve only been called that twice, and both times, it was by you.”
“Excuse me!”
We both startled at the third sharp voice to enter the argument, turning to find Mrs. Juniper standing in the aisleway with both of her wrinkly hands on her hips. Through her bifocal glasses, the librarian passed each of us a glare fiercer than anything we could’ve conjured.
“If you don’t keep it down, I’ll ban you from the library,” she hissed, and even in a near-whispering voice, she was threatening. “If you want to argue, find somewhere else to do so.”
And with that, she disappeared back to where she came from.
I hadn’t even realized our voices had grown so loud, but now that silence descended between us, the quiet was more unsettling than the fighting. Connor stared stonily down at the closed textbook on the floor beside him. He was strung as tight as a rubber band, as if any second, he could’ve launched back to where we left off.
