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When I eased it open, I found Connor on the other side dressed in his pajamas too. His dark green pants had little footballs on them, and his shirt had a logo with a pair of headphones in the middle, and words curved around them. He didn’t grab a jacket, but then again, it wasn’t that cold out. “Hey.”
I tightened the blanket around me. “Hi.”
Connor glanced down at the welcome mat. “Can I come inside?”
“Oh. Right.” Jerkily, I stepped back, allowing him enough room to step into the foyer. He seemed so much bigger in the small space, taking up too much oxygen in the room. “You don’t have to take your shoes off.”
Connor toed the sneakers off anyway, not bothering to untie the laces. He had on a pair of black socks, but they were mismatched, one a solid black and the other black with a white stripe across the toes. “You were right,” he said as he tilted his head up at the art on the walls, purely impassive. “It does feel like an art gallery in here.”
Connor looked at the art piece that had always puzzled me, all the gray tones and splattering. “You came over to check out the décor?” I meant to sound teasing, but the shrill note to my voice ran along the words. It’d been weird for me to go to his house, but it was absolutely bizarre that he was at mine.
He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and smoothing out the creases. “Can you check my answers?”
“You came over so I’d review your math problems?” I glanced from the paper extended in his grip to his face, and gave a slight chuckle. “At ten at night?”
“Apparently so.”
“You could’ve texted me a picture of them, you know. Or waited until tomorrow.”
“I’m getting nervous,” Connor admitted. “About the test. About passing.”
His presence made a bit more sense now. It wasn’t about checking these answers; he was seeking reassurance. “Let’s go sit in the living room.”
His footsteps were silent, but the floorboards creaked ever so slightly. Our living room wasn’t that big, which meant there weren’t many places to sit. There was the three-person couch or the recliner in the corner of the room, but the recliner was too far from the couch to make conversation natural. So when Connor sat down on the couch, I sat down on the opposite side, leaving a cushion between us.
“I’m sorry I came over without checking with you first,” he said as I started scanning the problems. He’d done the review set that I was going to have him attempt tomorrow. “It’s kind of terrifying, the weight this test has. I mean, if I fail, I won’t graduate on time. That’s…insane.”
I used my finger to follow through the math expression, wincing as I caught an error. “Did you check your work?”
He tensed. “Ah, no. I didn’t think to.”
“Here, check your work before I grade it,” I said, passing it back. I picked up one of the colored pencils on the coffee table; Mom left them littered everywhere. “You can use this to change anything if you spot it.”
Connor’s expression was grim. “I’ll have to remember to double check my work Friday.”
“Triple check.” I leaned against the couch arm, pulling one leg underneath me. The blanket’s warmth made me a wee less uncomfortable, thankfully, as did the even breaths I drew in and let out. “And don’t worry. You’ve absorbed the past two weeks’ information really well. It’ll be okay.”
And I believed that. I’d thought the past two weeks would’ve been so much harder than they were. He continually surprised me.
“I keep thinking about how terrified I am of anyone finding out.”
It made me think of Madison showing up Monday night, threatening to spill the beans we’d kept sealed this entire time. Even after everything, he was so worried about what others thought. It made me shake my head. “I’m sure you’re not the only athlete who’s failed a class before.”
“You can fail a class, but you can’t fail a grade. It’s like an unspoken thing.”
“Well, it’s a stupid thing. You shouldn’t worry about what other people think of you.”
I stared at his hands as they gripped the paper. Some people bit down their nails when they were nervous, but he portrayed his nerves in a different way, from fidgeting to drumming them along the tabletop. They were always moving when he was anxious.
Connor let out a soft sigh. “After tomorrow, we won’t see each other anymore.”
“We’ll see each other at school.”
Connor didn’t respond, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was: even if we saw each other at school, it wouldn’t be the same. We wouldn’t say hi. We’d lock eyes for a few seconds, maybe even get close enough to speak, but neither of us would. Connor wouldn’t because he couldn’t step outside of his world, and I wouldn’t because I’d be too afraid that he wouldn’t say anything back.
“Thank you for helping me,” he said at last, glancing around my living room. “I wouldn’t have a chance if it weren’t for you. And…thank you for keeping it a secret.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding in the beginning.”
