AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And you really want that valedictorian spot,” she added softly.
Sometime through this all, I’d forgotten that had been my initial goal, the carrot dangling over the messy and complicated situation. At some point, it’d turned into less about me and more about him.
“Don’t doubt your tutoring skills,” she encouraged, taking the test back when I offered. “And if you think he’s going to do well, I believe in himandyou.”
The first few days of our tutoring, I hadn’t been so sure of Connor’s ability to pass. It was a ton of information to fill up on in a few weeks, combined with other schoolwork and sports. But in the weeks, his dedication toward it—maybe more like desperation—made me more and more confident in him. He could do this. I had faith.
I stopped by the bathroom before heading toward first period, but as soon as I stepped inside, I heard the obvious sound of someone crying. The choking breaths, the sniffling nose. Instantly, the sound cut through me, and I looked at the only closed blue stall.
I stepped up to the stall door and hesitated before rapping my knuckles against the metal. Whatever was wrong, she probably didn’t want to talk to a stranger about it, but I couldn’t ignore her. “Is everything okay?”
The girl’s sniffles cut off almost instantly, and her voice was a soft croak. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Need someone to talk to?” I wassonot the optimal person for cheering someone up, though. In our friend group, Rachel was the funny one, I was the logical one, and Ava was definitely the encourager. But from years of being their friend, I could figure out a way to channel them. “I have a few minutes before I go to class.”
With how big Brentwood was, I hadn’t expected it to be anyone I knew. But when the stall door opened, my eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Madison froze as soon as she saw me, her puffy eyes widening. For athletes versus mathletes day, it was clear Madison wasn’t participating with her simple pink sweater and denim jeans. Her golden hair was smoothed into a low ponytail, but what really caught my attention was the black smudges under her eyes from her mascara mixing with her tears.
Everything inside me lurched as I was thrown back in time.
I pivoted on my heel and went to the paper towel dispenser, extracting a sheet and dampening it under the sink. “You know,” I said slowly, offering the wad to her. “I haven’t seen you cry since the fifth grade.”
I’ve never seen you cry, you know, she’d told me two weeks ago at the bowling alley.Not even when you broke your arm in the fifth grade.It was funny—the exact time she’d expected me to cry was one of the few times I’d seen her cry. She’d cried my tears for me that day.
Madison sniffed, going to the mirror and dragging the paper towel underneath her eyes. “At least I’m not crying over shorts.”
Weirdly enough, I found my lips twitching like they were about to smile. “What’s wrong?”
The question came before I gave too much thought to it, but I found myself genuinely curious about the answer. What upset her badly enough to cry in the girl’s room at school, where anyone could’ve found her? I couldn’t even begin to guess what could’ve been the reason.
Madison studied her reflection in the mirror. Most of the mascara was gone now, replaced with a faint gray sheen. Her voice was filled with barbed wire. “Do you really care?”
“Yes.” I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the sink beside hers. Her chest shook from crying, intermittent sniffs that quivered her frame like a hiccup. “I promise it won’t show up on Babble.”
She gave a short, humorless chuckle as she tossed the paper towel into the trash, flicking on the faucet. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she returned, but her voice wasn’t unkind. After dipping her hand underneath the stream of water, she pressed her fingers to the side of her neck where redness had started to bloom. “We both know you wouldn’t have knocked if you knew it was me.”
Was that true? If I had known it was Madison in the stall, would I have knocked? Would I have walked out? I didn’t know, but I did know that seeing her cry triggered something in me. The same sort of protective affection that I thought had died years ago. Like despite everything that happened, that one sisterly thread still could tug on my heart.
Instead of saying that, I flipped open the flap of my satchel and dug around. Once my fingers closed around the tube, I held it out to her. “What?” I asked as she eyed the mascara. “A math geek can’t wear makeup?”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking.”
“You think my lashes are naturally this voluminous?”
Madison’s lips tipped upward. She looked on the verge of crying again, a haziness filling her eyes like tears about to spill over.
The strange affection surged in me again, and like a puppet on strings, I stretched out a hand to touch her shoulder. It was then that I knew, even with our history between us, I’d never be able to walk away when she needed someone.
I pressed the mascara tube into her hand and didn’t say anything more before turning away. The five-minute bell rang over head as I pulled the bathroom door open. “Whatever’s going on,” I began gently, feeling awkward the moment I opened my mouth, but forging ahead anyway, “Don’t let it ruin your makeup.”
Her face crumpled again, but Madison didn’t say anything as she let me walk out. Really, there wasn’t anything left to say, anyway.
I didn’t see Connor until the end of the day for our final tutoring session. He drove to a dirt road where the elevation was higher, parking at a spot the locals called Lookout Ledge. It was a hill with a road carved into the side of it, the elevation barely high enough for the view to clear the tops of the trees. Still, even though the view wasn’t that spectacular—a lot of houses and subdivisions—it was peaceful with the lingering summer breeze.
Connor opened up the hatch of the SUV and we sat in the back, legs dangling against the bumper. He was working on practice test number two, and we had one left after this for him to take. I didn’t want to overload his brain, but I wanted him to be as prepared as possible.
The math equations from the official test danced in my mind, a few clear as day. Especially the multiple-choice ones. It felt weird having insider information, like at any point I could tell him what the answers would be.
