Mom’s words stung. She was right.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hudson walked back into the room with a glass pitcher balanced in between his small hands. “Are you done being disappointed in Fuller?” He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a grin.
“Your brother is going to do much better in school,” Mom said, shooting me a look that could stop a freight train in its tracks. “Isn’t that right, Fuller?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hudson poured himself a glass of lemonade. “Do you have a lot of homework tonight or can we play some Fortnite?”
Without looking, I could feel my dad’s eyes burn into me.
I shook my head. “Sorry, buddy. I have a lot of reading to do. Rain check?”
His little shoulders slumped. “Okay.” I hated disappointing my parents, but I hated letting my brother down even more.
After covering my pasta in Dad’s homemade spaghetti sauce and adding a heaping portion of baked asparagus to my plate, I tucked into my food. Grateful for the chewing-induced silence, I ate my meal as quickly as possible.
Less than ten minutes later, I excused myself and headed up to my room with my backpack slung over my shoulder.
My bedroom walls were covered in posters of my favorite basketball players. Everyone from Michael Jordan to LeBron James. One day I wanted to be on a poster, posing in my NBA jersey, being a role model for kids across the world.
But first, homework.
I grabbed my laptop and flipped open the cover. All I needed to do was read over the themes that Wren had given me during study hall and then binge listen to the book. I figured I could do push-ups and sit-ups while listening, maybe even knock out some of my math homework.
“Crap.” I frantically scrolled through my open document. My notes were nowhere to be found. Somehow they’d disappeared. Always save your work. My elementary school computer teacher’s words rung in my head. After trying every trick I knew, I sighed in frustration. There was only one option left: ask Wren. I mean, if I didn’t report back to her on the topics she’d given me, I’d be totally screwed. She’d probably march right into Principal Davis’s office and demand that he suspend both of us.
I picked up my phone, but quickly realized that I didn’t have her number. Instagram, she’s got to have an Instagram account. After typing her name into the app, her account popped up. Dang it. It was set to private.
My finger hovered over the follow button. If anyone found out that I followed Wren, everyone in school would go nuts. Whatever, I can follow her and then unfollow her as soon as she sends me the themes. I tapped the blue follow button and waited. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. I checked the time and exhaled. I couldn’t wait much longer. If I did, I’d have to stay up until three in the morning listening to the book.
I cursed myself for not paying better attention to Wren. I remembered racism was one of the themes, but what were the others? Something about community injustice? No, that wasn’t right…
Pacing back and forth in my room, I laid out my options. Someone else could have similar notes, but would they be the same as Wren’s? Probably not. If I had to spend time studying, I needed to focus on the right topics. Otherwise, it could be a massive waste of time. I could call Brandon and ask for her number, but that would bring up too many questions. I couldn’t call Coach and ask him—that would all but be admitting that I hadn’t taken our first tutoring session seriously.
It became painfully clear. My only option would be to go over to her house.
Assuming she still lived in the same place. I’d been in the car with Marissa before when we’d passed it; Marissa had pointed it out and laughed. The memory made my skin prickle. Marissa could be really mean when she wanted to be.
“Okay, it’s no big deal. I’ll head over there. Ask her in person, write them down in my phone, and head back home. I can be in and out in five minutes.” The pep talk didn’t leave me any more prepared for what I had to do.
Clomping down the stairs, I headed into the kitchen. “Mom, is it okay if I head over to my tutor’s house to grab some notes?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Why do you need to go over there to get notes?”
“Computer glitch,” I explained. My cheeks felt hot. This was not the best way to convince my parents that I was turning my AP Lit grade around. “It’ll take only a few minutes.”
“All right, as long as this isn’t a social visit.”
“A social visit? Yeah right. More like being sent to detention.”
She frowned, a crease forming across her brow. “Okay, don’t be out long.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I grabbed my keys and headed out the front door.
It took only five minutes to get to her house, a small ranch with white siding and a brick front. Purple flowers hung in baskets on either side of the bright red front door.
I got out of my car and locked the doors behind me.
“Fuller? Is that you?”
I spun around, coming face-to-face with TyShaun and his dog Bear. Crap! I forgot he lived in this neighborhood, too.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking up toward the house.
“Oh, ah, I’m—” Stammering, I struggled to come up with an excuse.
A massive grin spread across his face. “Are you seriously paying Wrentainer a booty call?”
Cocking my head to the side, I shrugged. “She can’t get enough of me, what can I say?” My stomach twisted into a knot as guilt settled in my stomach like a brick sinking to the bottom of a lake. I was a terrible person.
TyShaun punched me in the shoulder. “You’re a dog, you know that, right?”
Bear lifted his head into the air and barked.
“You’re right, Bear,” TyShaun said, petting his dog’s head. “He’s not a dog, he’s a total catfish.”
My nose wrinkled. “I’m a catfish?” My mind drifted to the show where people pretended to be one thing in order to get someone to like them, but in real life, they were the complete opposite.
Well, I was pretending, but I wasn’t trying to get with Wren in real life.
“Yeah, you’re a bottom feeder.” TyShaun burst out into laughter. “We won’t keep you any longer. Go get her, champ.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced a fake smile and winked. “See you tomorrow, Ty.”
I’m totally going to hell.
Chapter Five
Wren
“Got it,” I shouted, heading toward the front door. Who in the world would be stopping by so late? Dae and Brandon were the only people who ever came to hang out with me, and they were both doing homework. Mom and Dad rarely had unplanned visitors, and it certainly wasn’t for Gramps.