“Cool. Anyway …” she takes a small step forward.
I’m supposed to say bye, but all I can think about is the way my skin went hot when Eve caught me today, the way my heart started pounding when she said,“I won’t say anything, I know it’s your own business—”
I can’t let that be our one and final conversation on the topic, not when it wasn’t a conversation but two sentences.
“I’ll join you,” I say, turning so I’m heading the same way as her. “If that’s okay.”
After a beat, she nods, and we walk a minute in silence. This is awkward as hell. Our talk at school was awkward as hell.
I take a deep breath. “Eve—”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she interrupts. “It’s fine. We never have to talk about it again.”
“Okay,” I say. “I know. But thanks for … you know.”
She half-laughs. “For what? You don’t have to thank me.”
“Well, you didn’t tell the entire school. So.”
She raises a brow. “You don’t have to thank me for that. That’s basic decency, Noah.”
I nod. Our pace is brisk, and I look at my feet. “I appreciate you not snitching on me to Mr Patterson. About the test. I won’t cheat again.”
“Good to hear it,” she says. “Are you telling the truth?”
I rub my head because I don’t want to get into a whole discussion about academics with a smart person. They don’t get it. “I’ll try. And I won’t cheat off you.”
To my relief, she nods rather than admonishing me.
Minutes pass in silence. I don’t want to be patronising, but I need to be certain that Eve won’t tell anyone, even accidentally. She’s smart, so it’s unlikely she’ll be careless, but still …
“It’s important to me,” I begin, “that you don’t tell anyone, even if you don’t mean to.”
She looks like she wants to interrupt, but she resists.
“We’re not ready to deal with people knowing,” I say. “I can’t ask you to be nice considering I cheated on your test, and we don’t know each other well, but …”
“Noah, it’s basic decency,” she repeats. “You don’t need to pay me with niceness for that.” Her voice softens. “I get it. You can trust me. I won’t tell a single soul.” She makes a zipping motion over her mouth, strange to see on someone as serious as Eve.
I can’t help but laugh in relief. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Stop thanking me.”
A notification pops up on my sports watch. It’s connected to my phone and shows me a text I received from my brother.
Ben: Dinner’s ready in 20
Since both of my parents work late at the hospital, our family eats late. My older brother, Ben, is on his gap year, working full time while travelling during the holidays. Mum and Dad let him stay at home as long as he paid rent and contributed to the housework, so he’s responsible for dinner. Next year, he’ll go to university to study medicine, like my oldest brother Peter, who’s in his third year. That’s right. I have two older brothers smart enough to study medicine while I can barely pass maths tests. To say that I’m the family disappointment is an understatement. Last year, my grades were so bad that the school made me go to several meetings with an academic advisor. I sat there and talked about the reasons I wasn’t doing well at school: the content was too difficult; I didn’t have enough time to study; I had no motivation …
My parents tried to help me improve my grades, threatening to ban me from going to parties or suggesting they hire a tutor. I argued against the latter — I didn’t want to disappoint another person, in addition to my family. I said that my study sessions with Henry were good enough, though my parents doubted that my study sessions with Henry were productive.
Which is true. This year, we started study sessions again and would sit at the dining table and study until the house emptied. Then Henry would push me to the floor.
Henry. My mind always returns to Henry.
“We’re not dating,” I say. With a flinch, I realise I’ve spoken aloud.
Eve turns to look at me, and I tense, but her voice is soft. “You and Henry?”
