Oh. Right. “That’s good,” I say. “Smart.”
“I’m going to teach through doing. I’ll talk through my work as I complete the problem. Stop me if you have any questions. We’ll do a few problems like that and then work on one together. Then you’ll take over. That work?”
My pulse races, and my hands grow damp. This is happening. A minute ago it was iced tea and conversation, but now it’s on. There’s a test in three days. If this study session doesn’t work out…
It has to work out.
I grip the edge of my chair and nod, trying to keep my voice level. “Yeah, cool.”
Amir angles his notebook toward me and brings his pencil to the page. I don’t recognize the brand. It’s nice. Like it’s from an art supply store, not Office Depot. The graphite slides across the paper. His flicks numbers on the page with ease, his voice soft and steady, explaining each step as promised. I’m so entranced, it takes me a few seconds to realize I’m paying attention to the cadence of his voice not the actual lesson.
“Wait, can you go back?” I ask.
He glances at me. “Sure, to which part?”
I’m too embarrassed to say, “To the beginning,” so instead I say, “That last part, the uh—”
“Reversing the inequality?”
“Yeah, that.”
He goes back and scrawls the numbers again. “Got it?”
I grip my pencil. “Yep. Thanks.”
“I’m glad this is working out.”
My grip tightens. “Yeah, me too.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I’m completely lost, but Amir thinks all is well. He flips the page and says, “Okay, so why don’t you work through this one, and if you get stuck, I’ll help.”
I nod. “Sure.”
Yeah. Sure.
I take my time copying the problem, checking each and every number before writing it down in my notebook. Then I nibble the end of my eraser, looking it over. My foot shakes up and down.
“Okay,” I say. “So apply the quotient rule.”
“Right.”
Right…
Wait, what’s the quotient rule?
Amir just did this. Like, five times in a row. So I can, too. It’s only math. I’ve been doing it forever. One step at a time.
First step, first step…
Oh, right. I deconstruct the first bit of the problem. “Good, right,” Amir says.
I pick at my nail. Then bite at my nail.
“Next you’ll want to take out the constant,” Amir says.
My brain hurts. It actually pulsates.
I take another sip of my tea, but the cup is empty. “Want a refill?” I ask Amir. “I’m kind of thirsty.”
“Don’t you want to finish the problem?”
“In a second.” I stand and grab both of our cups. My pulse skips, staccato. Calm down, Ariel. Focus on something else. His cup has the Deathly Hallows symbol on it. “So you’re a big Harry Potter fan, yeah?” I ask him.
“I am,” Amir says. “Still waiting on my Hogwarts letter.”
“I bet they don’t have calculus at Hogwarts.”
“They don’t, but I’ve heard Arithmancy is difficult.”
My laugh disorients me. It’s as if my mind is functioning in two separate spaces. I push toward the good space. “You’re a bit of a nerd, aren’t you?”
Amir grins. “Little bit.”
I turn back, then open the fridge and inhale the cold air. I can do this.
What if I can’t do this?
I blink, eyes blurring. I have the distinct urge to break into tears. Stop it. Refocus. I slip out my phone and scan my messages. There’s one from Sook: What time are you coming over?
I don’t respond yet because I have no clue when we’ll be done.
“You see it?” Amir asks. “It’s on the top shelf.”
I shove my phone back into my pocket. “Yeah, thanks.” I pour our teas and head back to the table. “What time are your parents coming home again?”
“We have plenty of time. I don’t think the first act is even over.”
I nod, twisting my fingers together. “What’s the play about?”
“A children’s adaptation of Cyrano de Bergerac. It was pretty funny.”
“Oh, I liked that play.” My fingers lock together, squeeze. “I’m not loving Crime and Punishment. Are you in Mrs. Rainer’s class?”
“I am,” Amir says, but he doesn’t seem interested in more conversation. “C’mon, let’s get back to work. We were doing well.”
Hah. We really weren’t.
I pick up my pencil. The eraser is half-gnawed off.
“Okay,” Amir says, “So you were about to take the constant out and—”
“Isn’t Mr. Eller the worst teacher?” I ask.
“He’s all right. Scattered. So we take out the constant and—”
“I had no problem with calculus last year, but this guy can’t teach to save his pension. Good thing he doesn’t have to. It’s ridiculous. I wish they could get rid of him. Sticking us with this guy at the end of school is such bullshit.”
“I guess so. Okay—”
“And he doesn’t even—”
“Ariel, stop procrastinating.”
His tone is relaxed, but my whole body tenses. He can’t see me falter. No one can. I swallow hard, then say, “I’m not procrastinating. I wanted to talk. Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You aren’t bothering me. I like talking with you.” He pauses. “But you came to me for help, and I want to make sure you get it. If you’re still having trouble with the material, we can go back to the beginning.” His tone is warm, but I don’t feel comforted.
“I don’t think this is working out.” I close my notebook.
“Wait, what?”
“I don’t need this.”
My heart pounds fast as I stuff my things into my bag.
“You don’t need what?” Amir asks. I stand, and so does he. “You’re leaving? Ariel, why?”
“This isn’t working for me. I’ll be better off studying on my own. Thanks for trying.”