He snatches it out of my hand.
His brows knit and I watch the way his lips move as he reads.
“Can you stop staring at me?” he snaps a minute later.
Geez.
Getting off the futon, I make a beeline for the instruments.
They aren’t expensive. In fact, everything looks second—maybe even thirdhand—but they do keep them in good condition.
I’m so absorbed in imagining what it would be like to watch him perform, I don’t realize how much time has passed until I glance at my phone. It’s almost ten-thirty.
I walk back over to him. “Sorry. I kind of zoned out.”
Phoenix doesn’t look up. “I need more time.”
While I admire him wanting to do everything on his own, the reason I’m here is to tutor him and make sure he’s on the right path.
“It’s okay. I’ll look over your answers and give you feedback. This way, I can see what you’re struggling with and come up with a game plan to get you back on track.”
His jaw tics. “I haven’t finished reading this shit yet.”
I don’t know whether to laugh because he’s pulling my leg…or be concerned because he’s been reading for over an hour now.
It’s a five-page essay. Not a book.
“Um—”
“I need more time,” he grits through his teeth.
Holding my hands up, I back away. “No problem.”
I wander back over to the instruments, only now I’m solely focused on watching him as he reads.
I have no doubt he’s concentrating, it’s obvious by the way his face scrunches as he looks over the paper.
However, I also notice that he never moves on from the first page.
An awful feeling comes over me, but I shake it out of my head because that would be ridiculous.
Of course, Phoenix can read. He’s a freaking senior. Surely someone would have caught on to him being illiterate by now.
And yet…he’s still scanning the very same page. Looking like he’s trying his absolute hardest to make sense of it.
I glance at my phone. It’s after eleven now.
Nerves bunch in my stomach as I approach him again.
I’d never in a million years make fun of someone with a learning disability. However, I need to know what I’m dealing with so I can help him.
If I even can still help him at this point.
Sitting beside him on the futon, I gently touch his knee. “Phoenix?”
His deep voice is laced with hostility. “What?”
I hold his gaze. “I need you to understand that I will never, ever judge you.” I pry the essay from him. “But you’ve been reading for a very long time now.”
I expect him to give me an explanation, but that’s not what happens.
“Fine. Let’s do the questions.”
Looking down at the paper, I read the first one. “What exploration was the sixteenth century great for?”
This one is a multiple-choice question, so it should be relatively easy.
Phoenix gets it wrong, though. He tells me the answer is A when it’s actually B.
Keeping my expression neutral, I ask him another question, followed by another.
He answers each one incorrectly.
“Phoenix,” I whisper, trying to be as compassionate as I can. “You didn’t get any of the questions right. But it’s okay—”
Words jam in my throat when he snatches the paper from me and rips it in half. “Fuck you.” He stands. “I don’t need this shit. I’ll get someone else to tutor me.”
I’m not the problem here. The problem is him.
Or rather, his refusal to confide in me about what’s going on.
“You can get another tutor if you want, but I don’t think it will matter. Heck, I haven’t even had a chance to actually tutor you yet since you still haven’t read it.”
“I did read it,” he booms.
“Then what exploration was the sixteenth century great for?”
He doesn’t answer…because he can’t.
Picking up the two halves of the paper he tore, I hold them up next to each other. “The answer is in the second sentence. Read it to me.”
I can see him struggling as he tries to, and it breaks my heart.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’m not going to make fun of you, I promise. I just want to help.”
He averts his gaze. “I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“I know you’re not.” I draw in a breath. “An idiot can’t sing or play piano the way you do. An idiot can’t drive. An idiot doesn’t have great taste in music like you do…so no, you’re not an idiot. But I do think you’re having difficulty when it comes to reading. Can you try to explain what happens so I can better understand?”
He’s silent for so long I fear I’m wasting my time…but then he finally speaks.
“The words…the letters. They get all jumbled up. I can’t keep them straight.”
I think about this for a moment. “You mean like dyslexia?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know what the name for it is. Just know that’s what happens.”
Wanting to investigate further, I read the first two sentences aloud and ask him the same question I did before.
Phoenix gets it right.
Making sure it’s not a fluke, I read the entire essay. Then I ask him all the corresponding questions. He gets all but two right and he’s able to provide decent answers to the ones that aren’t multiple choice.
It’s clear he definitely comprehends this stuff…as long as it’s not in written form.
How the hell did no one notice this before?
“Okay. So, I can’t officially diagnose you with dyslexia or anything, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you have.” I expel a sigh. “I don’t understand how none of your teachers caught on to this.”
Not even Mrs. Herman.
He looks sheepish. “They wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Because whenever we have to read a book for class, I make sure to get the audio version. I also have an app that scans and reads things aloud to me. Storm reads shit to me too whenever I ask.”
Okay, that makes sense…and it doesn’t.
“The tests aren’t given in audio form. How do you pass those?”
“Most of the time I don’t, which is why I’m failing. But every once in a while…” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I manage.”
“What do you mean?”
“When a test is multiple choice, I’ll peek over at someone else’s scantron and scope out the pattern.” He shrugs. “If I know there won’t be a scantron, I’ll find a girl who’s already taken the test and ask her for the answers.”
I balk at him. “And these girls just do it?”
I want to mentally smack myself because, of course, they do.
He’s Phoenix Walker.
He simply just has to exist, and girls line up to throw themselves at him.
Me included.
I have no intention of helping him cheat, though. I would, however, like to help him pass legitimately so he can graduate.
Problem is, I have no idea how to do that.
Phoenix glances at his watch. “What time do you have to be home?”