There she is, April the mind reader, unloading the dishwasher.
“All right.”
“Don’t think that just because you organized that war zone you call a room that you’re off the hook.” It’d just been a bit messy. Not as much as she would like to think.
“Okay,” I repeated, as she waved the dishes and cups around.
She stopped to look at me from head to toe.
“Okay what?” she asked, confused.
“Fine, I’ll help Jasper with his homework.”
My mom’s eyes went wide. I smirked at her with a satisfied look that seemed to say,You didn’t see that one coming, did you, amateur?
“And may I ask why you’re agreeing to do it, young lady?” she asked, swiftly grabbing her phone.
She was certainly already writing Mr. Curator about paintings and embarrassing dinners.
“If I accept your tutoring deal, I could go out, right?”
She looked at me suspiciously and didn’t soften up.
“So? Mom?”
“Yes. But I decide when and with whom. Go get dressed.”
“Why?”
“At Jordan’s at five.”
I grumbled.
Since we’d moved to California, I was starting to develop an instinct for trouble, and I was sure this was going to be a one-way street.
>> <<
“Hi, Jordan.”
The man greeted me at the door with a wet tank top that displayed two strong, muscular arms.
“Sorry, June, I was working out,” he said, wiping his face.
“Oh, no need to apologize.”
I bit my tongue as soon as I realized I’d said too much. But he didn’t notice and turned to his son.
“Jasper, June’s here!”
I put one foot in the door, all my mental alarms going off in my head.
Jasper looked at me furtively from the kitchen table. His tiny figure was wrapped in an oversized light-blue hoodie.
“Well, where do you wanna start?” Radio silence. We were off to a good start. We had two hours of torture ahead of us.
“Where’d you end up with your work?”
I tried to be accommodating, but patience wasn’t my forte. He did nothing but stare at me.
