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“You named your backpack?” I see mockery in his eyes.
“My brother did.” I say it as flat as I can, lifting my chin and daring him to make fun of me. He takes the hint and goes back to reading over my assignments.
I take my time extracting my laptop, reassuring myself that Trusty will hold together if I’m careful, and pull from the pens pocket a brand-new mechanical pencil—the one thing about this moment that brings me some semblance of enjoyment. I’m pretty sure it makes melooksmarter, even if it can’t change my brain.
His eyes catch on the due date. He clears his throat. “Syllabus?” One hand snaps out, palm up, as he continues to thumb through the pages without looking at me.
“She, uh, didn’t hand out a hard copy.”
The thumbing stops. He looks up, and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “Pull it up, please?” he says, gesturing at my laptop with a forced smile.
“Right,” I say, wishing I could slap the idiocy out of myself. I try for some positive self-talk instead, reassuring junior high Grace that all is well and she can go back to long-term memory. I swear there’s a glint in his eyes, hinting that he’s only just able to hold back the disparaging comments brewing behind them.
The clicking of my keyboard sounds loud in my ears as he waits for me to find the document. His “May I?” when the page finally loads sounds polite, though I can’t help but think his impatience is barely contained.
I hand over my laptop, holding my breath as he skims the material I have yet to read and wondering—thanks to his furrowed brows—how badly that missing assignment is going to affect my future. My angst upgrades to full stomachache in anticipation.
“Well,” he finally says, aiming my laptop back toward me, “it looks like she doesn’t accept anything late, so the first assignment is a loss—”
“One less to do, heh heh,” I say in an attempt to humor my way out, smiling over my regret.
He continues as if I haven’t spoken. “—for credit, but you’ll still need to complete it.”
I stifle a groan.
“Math is cumulative.” His fake smile reemerges, and though his tone is not condescending, I manage to interpret his words that way. “You’ll need to master those concepts before you can move on to the next section.”
Great.
“And it would be best if you try the assignment on your own before we meet next week.”
Double great. I mean, I didn’t really expect him to do the work for me, but a girl can hope.
“Questions?” he asks.
So many I don’t even know what to ask. “Uh...”
“We’ll just start at the beginning.”
* * *
I drop Trusty on the kitchen table, and Ivy nearly jumps out of her skin, as intended.
“What happened?” she asks.
Flopping into the wooden chair across from hers, I let out a groan and plop my head onto my hands. “He died.”
Ivy springs out of her chair to my side. “What? Who?”
“Lupe Navarro’s brother.”
Her hand stops making comforting circles on my back. “Huh?”
I sigh and ramble off the basics. “He died, and she’s on her way back to Peru, so she found me a replacement tutor, and he’s a sadist.” I pause for effect before pressing on. “And now I’ll never pass math or graduate, and my job will go to someone else.”
“And it’s all my fault and you’re never speaking to me again?” She reclaims her seat and the rabbit-food meal I’ve so rudely interrupted.
“Clearly.”
