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I open my mouth to respond, but a sniffle from the backseat catches my attention, and I shake my head. “I’ll stay here with Jordy.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says, hurrying out of the car.
That was a lie. Ten minutes go by without a single sign of him.
Jordy still hasn’t spoken a word. Muffled sniffles every so often are the only reminder that he’s still in the car.
“Does he usually take this long?” I ask, turning to see past the back of the seat.
Jordy shrugs, poking his head out of hiding. “It’s a music store. He’s probably planning on spending the night.”
Jordy’s weepy eyes break my heart.
I want to help make him feel better, but I don’t know where to start. Comforting children is not something I ever foresee myself putting on my resume. I’m more likely to make them cry.
Despite my better judgment, I ask, “How was school?”
He shrugs again. “I don’t know.”
“Is it math?”
His gaze drops to the floor. More tears well in his eyes.
“I could help you with it if you wanted. I’m pretty good at math.”
He glares at me. “You’re failing all your classes, remember?”
I hold my finger up in the air. “Except math. And I’m not failing my other classes anymore. They’re just on the lower end of passing.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m hopeless.” His face scrunches up as he starts to cry again.
I frown, my chest aching. “You’re not hopeless.”
He shoots daggers into me with his eyes. “Yes, I am. It doesn’t matter how much I try, I keep missing questions on the tests.”
“What are you learning about right now?”
“Fractions.” He rolls his eyes. “I think they hate me.”
“Well, guess what?” I say.
“Hmm?”
“Well, I love fractions. I can teach them to you.”
“I don’t know,” he says.
My mouth twists in thought, trying to figure out a way to convince him to give me a chance. I can help him. I click my tongue on the roof of my mouth as a new idea pops into my head. “Do you like cookies?”
He perks up slightly. “Of course I like cookies.”
“My mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies that you will ever have in your life. They’re gooey and melt in your mouth, and I’ll tell you what–”
“What?”
I lean closer and lower my voice to a whisper. “If you do something for me, I’ll have my mom make you cookies.”
He straightens his back and stares at me suspiciously. “What would I have to do?”
