“You’re doing it wrong,” I said, and reached for her notebook. I copied the problem on a clean line, then solved it, making sure to show my calculations so she could see how I’d done it.
“It’s easy,” I said as I nudged the notebook back in her direction. “You gotta follow the same steps every time.”
She looked at my answer, then flipped to the back of the book to make sure it was correct. “How did you do that? I mean, you’re failing Physics.”
“Was,” I corrected. As far as I was concerned, Maddy was never failing another class again. “And besides, I’m not as dumb as everyone thinks.”
“Nobody thinks you’re dumb,” Alex said as he reached around me and yanked the notebook from Molly’s hands.
“The answer is right,” Molly said. “I already checked it.”
Alex glanced at the problem, then at me as if trying to figure out how I’d done it. Muttering something under his breath, he tossed the notebook onto the table. I swear I caught a glint of suspicion in his eyes, one that had me simultaneously filled with hope and fear—hope that he’d realize who I was and let me out of the confines of my lie, and fear of the rain of crap that was going to pour down on me if he did.
“Ella was helping me,” I quickly said, praying that he’d buy my excuse. “If I fail Physics, I’ll get kicked off the field hockey team, so she was tutoring me at home, teaching me how to do it.”
“You could’ve asked me,” Alex said. “I would’ve helped you.”
I’d forgotten he was a decent student and could pull a B in the regular college prep course without too much effort. He could’ve helped Maddy, and I found it odd that she hadn’t ever asked him to. Instead, she always came to me to bail her out.
“I could’ve done a lot of things differently,” I said.
36
Dad was sitting at the kitchen table when I got home, his entire focus on the small cup of coffee he had in front of him. He looked up when he heard me come in and tried for a smile, but it was small and filled with exhaustion. Wherever he was last night, it was obvious he hadn’t slept.
“Hey,” I said. “When did you get home?”
“Couple of hours ago,” he replied. “I had some things to catch up on at work, then I went to your grandmother’s for dinner.”
I’d assumed he’d gone there … was hoping he’d gone there, but the confirmation was still nice.
“Your grandmother sends her love,” Dad said as he pushed the spoon around his coffee. “I wanted to bring you with me. I thought maybe some time away from school and this house would do you good.”
We had spent a lot of time at my grandmother’s growing up. She used to let us eat our dessert before dinner and never worried about the amount of dirt we tracked into the house. Even as a teenager I loved going there, loved the way she doted on me and made my favorite foods.
She used to draw like me, except she was better. She could paint, too. I never seemed to be able to master that—the whole color thing. I still preferred my charcoal pencils to acrylics and oils. It was my grandmother who gave Maddy and me our first sketchbooks. They were actually old ones of hers that she’d tossed aside. Didn’t matter. To us, they were massive sheets of clean paper that we wouldn’t get in trouble for writing on.
“I texted you a few times, but you didn’t respond,” Dad said.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my texts. There were three from Dad. I remembered my phone chiming in Spanish class. The teacher gave me a stern glare, and I’d turned it off without checking to see who the text was from. I had no idea it was Dad or I would’ve responded.
“Sorry,” I said, and shoved my phone back into my pocket. “I talked to Josh like you suggested.”
“You find the answers you were looking for?”
“No,” I said. “Just a lot more questions.”
“Any of those questions I can help answer?”
I took a seat across from him and grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl in the center of the table. I wasn’t hungry, but I peeled it anyway. “No.”
“Well, I’m here if you’re looking for someone to talk to.”