“Okay.” His brows pinch together, and he continues to stare at me.
“My mind is occupied with other things. School is kicking my butt right now.”
“Yeah. I feel you. The teachers have piled on lately. Everything’s good though?”
Austin and some of the other guys are aware I’ve been struggling in algebra, so he wouldn’t be surprised if I told him I’m panicking about my test next week. If I don’t pass it, then I’m going to drop below the minimum grade needed to play on the team. But I give my head a nod. “All good.”
As people trickle back down to the bleachers for the start of the next period, I find myself on the outskirts of conversations. My worries have me too distracted to follow along.
When I spot Lacey, though, I snap out of it. She’s with a group of cheerleaders. They’re all talking and laughing, but her steps slow when she notices me, and she falls back.
“Hi,” she says tentatively, as the rest of her friends take a seat in the row in front of me.
“Lacey.” I sit tall.
She smiles slightly, one side of her mouth pulling higher. Lacey Kerr is the single happiest person I know. She’s always smiling and has a kind word for the people around her. I’m probably the only person in the school she doesn’t like. Instead of her full, wide smile, I get this version. To be honest, I don’t mind it. I’m glad she doesn’t pretend to like me, giving me fake smiles and kind words she doesn’t mean. I respect her a lot more for it.
I knew asking her to help me was a long shot, and I’m not surprised she isn’t jumping at the chance to help me. I don’t think Lacey has ever liked me. Even when I was dating Claire, she wasn’t my biggest fan. She told me once that I needed to lighten up. Whatever that means.
But she’s smart and always manages to keep up with her grades despite being involved with cheerleading and other school clubs. She’s doing something right.
She looks like she wants to say something now, but the last thing I want to talk about in front of my teammates is algebra. Especially if she’s just going to remind me that she doesn’t tutor people. Despite everything, it still stings that she said no.
“I wanted to give you this.” She sticks out a piece of paper to me that I hadn’t realized she was holding.
I take it hesitantly. Her neat handwriting fills the scrap of lined paper with a name and number. “It’s Caleb’s number. He’s smart, and he’s tutored people before. I asked him in sixth period if it was okay if I shared his information, so he knows someone might text him.”
My skin feels tight and heat creeps up my neck. I glancearound, but no one is paying us any mind. I wish that made me feel better.
“I didn’t tell him it was you. I figured you’d prefer that.”
Somehow that makes me feel even worse.
Lacey’s still standing in front of me expectantly. Neither of us seems to know what to say next. Her friend Andie grabs her arm as the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of intermission.
“Come on. I want to sit before it starts,” Andie says.
Lacey gives me a small smile as she follows her to their seats.
“Thanks.” I tip my head in a nod as she finally turns her head, breaking our gaze.
Chapter Three
Vaughn
My eyes burn as I walk out of my bedroom the next morning. I stayed up way too late trying to figure out the latest Algebra II assignment.
School has never been a huge priority for me, but it’s never felt this hard either. Somewhere between eighth grade math and algebra, I got behind, and it’s like every new thing builds on the next, but I never learned the early stuff well enough to comprehend the new.
Two years ago I was planning to take a summer course to get caught up, but then my mom got remarried and I spent most of those six weeks of vacation in London getting to know her new husband and pretending my mom and I weren’t strangers.
When I step into the kitchen, I come up short. My dad’s manager, Rick, is standing there with a coffee mug in one hand and two women are pacing in front of the island, staring out into the living room with matching looks of deep concentration.
“Vaughn,” Rick says my name cheerily. His mouth isbarely visible under his beard, but his face moves in a way to indicate he’s smiling. “How’s my favorite up-and-coming soccer star?”
“Up-and-coming?” I scoff. “Did you see my last game?”
He chuckles and I move closer to him and pull my shaker cup out of the cabinet.
