I hitch my backpack up my shoulder and stare at the moron I call my best friend. “Do you practice this shit at home in the mirror?”
The guy is a boomerang. “It’s a gift I was born with. Try not to be jealous. You’re in the running for Valedictorian—hang onto that like a lifeline. I do think after watching all these dumbass movies, I missed my calling. Should’ve tried out for the school play. Anyway, ditch your lame tutoring date, and come with me to Ben’s house. His parents are out of town, and he’s firing up the hot tub. His girlfriend is bringing friends from her school. They’re on the dance team, Levi. Maybe they’ll, you know…” Jack’s eyes widen, and he wags his brows. “Perform.”
I shake out of his hold. “I’m going to be late. Call me later if you want to lift weights, but there’s no way I’m going to that party. You’re on your own.”
“Come on, man,” he complains. “Don’t make me fly solo with the dancers.”
I turn for the library.
“Levi, come back. I need you! You’re the defect to my perfection. The night to my dawn. The … the…” I’m two steps away from the library entrance when I hear him yell over the chatter in the halls, “The broody firefighter to my plucky cupcake bakery owner.”
I turn back one more time and he’s standing in the middle of the hall, unbothered by the slew of highschoolers, as if he’s a boulder in the middle of a river. His backpack has fallen to the floor at his feet, and he looks like he was last to be picked for recess games on the playground.
I flip him off.
“Dude.” His shoulders sag, and right before the hushed whispers of the library swallow me up, Jack hollers through the halls, “I still love you, best friend!”
The door clicks behind me, shutting out the bullshit and the guy who’s been a constant in my life since before preschool when we were neighbors. He’s the most likable idiot in the senior class, and he knows it. He plays the part well and has stuck with me over the last couple years when I gave the fuck you to everyone else.
People suck. I have proof and will stand by my conclusion until the end of time. I have no desire to give anyone else the opportunity to prove me wrong.
Not again.
Not ever.
I glance at the time and pick up my pace as I head to the back of the library to the group study rooms. When I turn down the long hall lined with closed rooms with big glass windows so kids can’t fuck around in an enclosed space, I stop as soon as I get to the window.
I look down at the piece of paper Ms. Lockhart gave me. When she asked if I could tutor someone in chemistry, it was the last thing I felt like doing. I might have no desire to jump into a hot tub with the dance team from our biggest rival, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sick of school. Senioritis is a real thing.
Hell, I had a month of sophomoreitis and an entire year of junioritis. Going through high school social hell will do that to anyone, and I was sure dragged through the pits of it.
But I had no good reason to say no. Ms. Lockhart said it didn’t sound like it would take much to get the student back on track.
I double check the room number to make sure I’m in the right place. The door is wide open and a blonde is standing with her back to me, her backpack still flung over her shoulder. She’s wearing a sweater that swallows her whole and hits the back of her knees. She’s shifting her weight back and forth, like she might implode at any moment.
I look down at the paper again.
Carissa Collins.
Junior.
Chemistry with Mr. Stance.
Well, that’s probably half of the reason she’s failing. But hell, even Jack passed that class last year with a low C, and I didn’t have to help him.
I reach out and put my knuckles on the open door and knock twice.
She jerks right before spinning in a half-circle on her boot. Her eyes are as dark as the earth, framed in lashes darker than the night. Her sweater might swallow her in the back, but hangs open in the front. She’s in tight-ass leggings that disappear into her winter boots, and her T-shirt that barely hits her waist professes her love for the Arizona Diamondbacks.
She says nothing.
I break the silence. “Hey.”
She catches her bottom lip between her straight, white teeth.
I look down at my paper and try again. “Carissa Collins?”
“Yeah, sorry.” She shrugs her shoulder, bearing the weight of the bag. “That’s me.”
I step into the room and drop mine on the table. “Levi. I’m your chem appointment.”
“Appointment,” she echoes. “That’s a nice way to put it. Thanks.”
I cross my arms and look down at her where she stands no taller than five-five, if that. Her long blond hair falls over her shoulders in a messy heap, but on her, it fits. And she’s not like most of the girls who try to run in my circles. She wears no makeup. She’s not dripping in designer labels. And if she gives two shits what anyone thinks about her, then whack me over the head without a helmet.
I toss the piece of paper on the table with her name and the chapters we’re supposed to work on, and pull out a chair. “It’s no big deal. Lots of people need extra help in chemistry.”
She doesn’t take a cue from me and stands there unmoving. “I’ve never needed help with anything.”
“Are you new?” I change the subject. Our school isn’t small, but it’s not big like some of them closer to the District. I’ve lived here my entire life. I know for a fact, I would have seen this chick before.
She crosses her arms and shifts. “Yes. Since the beginning of the semester, but it’s not permanent. We’ll be going home as soon as possible.”
I relax back in my chair and nod to her shirt. “Is home Arizona?”
“Pretty much. We used to come to D.C. more often but haven’t in the last few years.” She sighs and finally drops her bag from her shoulder, but only to let it dangle by her side in one hand. “Look, I’ve never needed a tutor before. Can we just say we did this if I promise to study?”
“Study harder, or study, period? You’re a complete stranger, and you expect me to lie for you?” I pick up the paper sitting on the table next to me and hold it up between my pointer and middle finger. “You’re not the only one needing something from this. I get volunteer hours for being here, hours I need to get in with lacrosse starting soon.”
She exhales, and her shoulders slump an inch. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” My expression turns to granite. “And I don’t lie for my life-long friends, I’m sure as hell not telling my counselor I fulfilled my hours when I didn’t. You want to leave, that’s up to you, but I’m not signing off on shit.”
Her brow puckers. “I didn’t ask you to lie—”
“Saying we did this when we didn’t, is what then?”
She shakes her head and backpedals. “That’s really not what I meant. I’d never ask anyone to lie. I’ve had enough of that. It’s just I need to get back to my gran—I mean, home. My brother is waiting for me.”
“You know, we probably could’ve been halfway through your chapter review by now.”
She pulls her phone out of the deep, saggy pocket of her sweater and stares at the screen as she mumbles, “You underestimate how far behind I am. If I didn’t hate high school so much, I’d drop the damn class.”