“Ariel?” My name is smooth between his lips. The proper pronunciation with the hard Ar. Not like The Little Mermaid.
My foot shakes as we switch papers. I look down at his quiz. He uses a pen in math class. The confidence irritates me.
Mr. Eller slides the transparency sheet onto the projector. But the answers don’t look familiar. Is it the wrong slide?
Wait, no. I stare at Amir’s quiz. Every answer matches his neat handwriting.
His answers are right. But I don’t recognize most of the numbers. My pen slips in my damp hand. If his answers are right, and my answers don’t match his…
Amir looks up at me with an unreadable expression. Oh.
“Trade papers back when you’re ready,” Mr. Eller says. “We’ll go over any questions you have so you’re prepared for the test next week.”
Without looking at him, I shove Amir’s paper in his direction, then hold my hand there, waiting for mine. When I get my quiz back, I can’t help but look at the score. Only five out of ten correct. That math I can do. Fifty percent.
I failed.
I am failing calculus.
Dunkin’ Donuts coffee swirls like acid in my stomach.
I can feel Amir looking at me. But if I look back, this grade becomes real. And it can’t be real because I can’t fail calculus. I can’t even get a C in calculus because I’ll lose the valedictorian spot. And worse, if Harvard defers my decision and puts my application in the regular admission pool, they’ll see my fall semester transcript. They’ll see a bad grade, my dropped GPA, and they’ll reject me.
The bell rings. Everyone stands and collects their things.
“How’d you do?” Pari asks, turning toward me.
I swallow hard. If she finds out I failed, she’ll know she has a chance again at valedictorian. She’ll bear down, steal my spot. I’ve got to keep this quiet.
“Yeah, how’d you do?” Isaac asks. He’s wearing his football jersey for the game tonight. His white skin is tanned from summer practice.
Amir sits at his desk, messing around on his phone, but I can feel him listening. “I did well,” I lie. “Only missed one. Wasn’t paying much attention. You guys?”
Isaac shrugs. “Nice. Missed two, but I guess I’ll take it.”
“One hundred percent,” Pari says.
“Of course.” Isaac rolls his eyes. “Perfect Pari.”
She lightly punches him in the arm. “Shut up.”
Isaac winks at her, then turns back to me. “Coming, Ariel?”
“You guys go ahead,” I say.
They both leave, and then it’s only Amir and me.
He gathers his things and heads down the aisle. I shuffle behind him, keeping his pace with a few feet of distance. I wait until he turns out of the classroom before dropping off my quiz. Then I speed walk out to the hall in case Mr. Eller sees my grade and asks me to stay after class.
In the hallway, heart pounding, I look left and right, before spotting a glimpse of his medium-brown skin. Amir turns the corner, and I chase after him. I’ve got to ask him to keep this to himself, but if I do it in public, that kind of defeats the purpose. When I’m only steps behind him, I whisper-shout, “Amir!”
He turns, and I point to an empty classroom. “In here,” I say. He raises an eyebrow, and the word “please” escapes my mouth.
No one seems to notice as we slip into the room. I shut the door behind us. For a moment, I’m overwhelmed by his scent. Spearmint and basil. I take a short breath, pulse jumping.
“Ariel?” he asks. “Why are we in an empty classroom?”
“That’s a very good question,” I say.
With the lights off and blinds closed, I’m grateful it’s too dim to read his expression. I’m not sure which would hurt more, a look of annoyance or amusement. Not that I care what he thinks of me.
“Ariel?”
“I failed the quiz,” I blurt out.
“I know.” He shifts. “Is that it?”
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Why would I tell anyone?”
“I don’t know.” I tug at my pockets. “So you won’t? Say anything?”
“No.” The warning bell rings. “I’m going to go now…that okay?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Fine. I mean, sure. Thanks.”
Since when do I get tongue-tied around anyone? I guess since when I fail quizzes. I step to the side, and Amir moves past me and opens the door.
Then he’s gone.
I close the door again just so I can bang my head against it.
Two
“Ariel, do we have an appointment?”
Ms. Hayes, my guidance counselor, looks up from her desk. I’m standing in the doorway of her office, one backpack strap looped over my shoulder. Guidance is busy since it’s still the start of the semester, but I don’t have the luxury of making an appointment during a lunch period because I don’t have a lunch period because I had to make room for an extra AP course. Hopefully Ms. Hayes can squeeze me in before my next class starts.
“Um, no,” I say. “Do you have time?”
Her desk is a mess of papers. And there are not one, not two, but three coffee cups in front of her.
“Time, time…” she mutters, clicking her mouse and scanning her computer. “I have exactly five minutes until my next appointment. What’s going on?”
Great. Five minutes. That’s plenty of time to discuss my entire academic future. I like Ms. Hayes, but she has something like three hundred students assigned to her, so I’ve been trying to steal spare seconds of her time since freshman year.
“Um.” I stand by the chair at her desk, hands gripping the back, as pressure mounts behind my eyes.
Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?
Ms. Hayes picks up her phone and begins typing. Crap. I’m losing her. I need to talk, now. “I failed a math quiz this morning.”
Ms. Hayes looks surprised. My stomach constricts. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?” She nods to the chairs in front of her. “Go on, sit.”
One chair has a towering stack of folders and pamphlets on it, the other a filing box. I move the box to the ground and sit.
“I studied,” I say. She peers at me, silent. “I mean, I guess I could’ve studied more. And my dad kept distracting me this morning. But I thought I had the material down. I mean, it’ll be okay, right? It’s only one quiz.”