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At first, Sadie doesn’t get it, and I try not to get frustrated. After a few problems, it starts to click for her. Within a half hour, she starts getting the answers right without any help.
“Is this right?” she asks, shoving the paper closer to me as she chews her bottom lip.
I look it over. “Yeah. See, it isn’t that hard. Do you want to go to the next section now?”
“I would . . .” She slams her math book shut. “But my brain is mush now.”
I laugh. “Sounds about right.”
“Besides, I still have to work on my plans for the Winter Formal. I’m way behind.”
“You aren’t on the dance committee, are you?” I know she likes dancing and dressing up, but I figured she would skip it this year. She’s already behind in school.
She nods. “Yup. You’re looking at practically the entire committee. There are only three of us. At first, I wasn’t going to do it again, but it’ll count toward my volunteer hours.” Her eyes gain a cunning glow to them. “You know—”
“No. Absolutely not.”
She frowns. “Oh, come on. You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow. “I know you.”
“Then, what was I going to say?”
“I’m not joining the dance committee.”
She sighs, shoulders drooping. “But it would be so much fun.”
I shake my head. “I don’t like that kind of stuff.”
“Liar.”
My mouth drops open. “What?”
“You heard me.” She leans in, cupping her hand around the side of her mouth as if exposing a dark truth. “Remember that time I caught you watching that show—I can’t remember the title—but she picked out her wedding dress and you legit cried!”
My eyes dart around the room, and I bring my finger to my lips. “Shh. You swore you’d never tell anyone.”
She pats the table. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t picture yourself getting all dressed up. You’d love the dance.”
“Shut it,” I whisper.
She smiles again.
“What?”
“All you need is a date.” Her eyes bulge, and she covers her mouth to suppress a squeal of excitement. “You sat with Caleb yesterday. What’s with that? Do you like him?”
My skin begins to crawl, and my face is hot. I’m tempted to tell her everything, from our agreement to the required dates, but I freeze. I don’t know if I’m ready to open my vault and share all my feelings with her again.
“No. It’s not like that,” I say. “He’s just been driving me to school.”
She gasps. “Does he likeyou?”
I glare at her.
“That means he does.” She bounces her eyebrows.
“No, it doesn’t. He just—I was—”
