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“I get it. I’m missing dance.”
“Are there any…girls you’re missing?”
Lark’s cheeks colored. “I don’t like any girls.”
“Not yet?”
He shook his head and looked away.
I didn’t even know why I’d asked, except out of curiosity. I hadn’t crushed on any girls either. And right after that, the therapy dog had entered the room, so I let it go, even though I was confused by his response. And after our goodbye, I was even more so. Was Lark gay?
“You’re probably just reading into it,” I told Bones as Coach called us into a huddle to make some announcements.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Lark all night, and the next morning in review class, I got brave enough to sit at his table. He looked uncomfortable at first, but soon enough he got lost in the assignment, along with his tablemates. When he made a frustrated sound, I knew he was struggling with the new concept the professor had introduced today.
I stood and motioned to him. “Follow me to the whiteboard.”
“Huh?” He blinked at me.
I glanced at the three students quietly working on the problems we just reviewed.
“So I can demonstrate it in a different format. It might help.”
He stood hesitantly, then followed me to the front of the room.
“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of the class?”
“What? No! I’ve done this with other students; maybe you just haven’t noticed. The professor has you guys work out problems at the board too.” Did he really think I’d do something so mean, or was he that self-conscious?
“Okay, fine.” He breathed out. “Let’s just get on with it.”
So I picked up a marker and began working out the problem on the board. “Did you take algebra in high school?” I asked over my shoulder.
He winced. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I remember any of it.”
“You might recognize a couple of these steps as stuff you’ve already learned.”
“Doubtful,” he murmured.
We worked the problem step-by-step together, and I saw the light bulb go off in his eyes when he finally got it. “There you go!”
“How are you so good at this stuff?”
“I’ve always been better at understanding how things work or fit together.” I shrugged. “Why are you so good at the fine arts?”
“Touché.”
“Which reminds me. Bones said his roommate Emil is in dance with you. Plus, I recognize him from the marching band.”
“Yep. He’s a good guy. He puts up with Bones’s messiness, so I figure he’s a saint.”
I laughed. “I hear you.”
“Is there a reason Bones mentioned that?” Lark arched a brow. “I thought we were ignoring each other.”
“They saw you greet me on the first day, and I told them we knew each other from middle school.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
