Miss Gina glances over at me with a look of approval. She probably thinks that Freak is the “hottie” I was waiting for. Little does she know how wrong she is.
“Just checking.”
“We’ll keep it down,” he promises. “Won’t we, Teach?”
Why does he keep calling me that infuriating nickname?
“Teach?” Miss Gina repeats back in a voice laced with curiosity.
“She’s my new tutor,” he announces.
“Is that so?”
“Got to get the grades to stay on the field.”
Why is he lying to Miss Gina? I am not his damn tutor and never will be.
I pick up the pepper shaker next.
“What are you doing with my salt and pepper, sweetie?” Miss Gina asks. “You’re going to make a mess.”
I can feel the vibration of the booth cushion against my butt as Freak quietly laughs.
“Just a nervous habit,” I lie, as I screw the tops back on.
“Oh, okay, well, I’ll send Penny back over with your drinks and to take your order. It’s a good thing you’re doing for our Freak, honey. He’s one of the brightest stars to ever grace the campus of Copper Grove. You treat him right, okay?”
I can feel the smug sense of satisfaction rolling off of him as he waits for me to reply to Miss Gina with the only answer I can give in this moment.
“I will,” I say after a pregnant pause.
“Then it’s settled.” Freak’s hands slam hard against the table and loose granules of salt and pepper go flying in the air. “Lunch is on me, Teach!”
Willow
After Miss Gina walks away, I turn to Freak and stare him square in the eyes like my Grandma taught me to do. If you want someone to understand what you’re trying to say beyond using words, Willow, look ‘em square in the eye. She was a nurse for thirty-five years and taught me a lot of things about working with people that I would have never learned in nursing school alone.
“I don’t like being blindsided,” I tell him firmly, so that he takes me seriously.
“I get that.”
We stare silently at each other for a moment because, like an idiot, I’m waiting for an apology.
“You hijacked a student’s tutoring appointment and now you’ve just lied to Miss Gina about it.”
“It depends on your definition of a lie.”
I sigh to myself. It’s obvious that I’m not going to get any sort of apology from this one.
“Fine,” I acquiesce. “What class do you need my help with?”
“I need to pass College Writing 101, so that I can graduate and become the star I’m meant to be in the league.”
“A star, huh?”
“That’s what all the experts predict. It’s just about what number I go in the draft. ”
“Well, the star should have taken that class freshman year.”
