Of course.
Rose—who’s sitting right in front of Tammy—whirls around to face me, scowling. “Be quiet, Sara Lin. No one cares about your kissing. I can’t focus.”
Rose does not bother to whisper this, because why would she? Eyes from all over the room tick over to me. I flush. Ugh. Can she keep her voicedown? People listen to and respect Rose. She’s a natural leader, which is why she’s president of Newspaper Club, but she was also blessed with looking like a CoverGirl model. I mean, long blond hair? Perfect skin? Flawless smile? Why do some people have it all?Andshe’s smart. Like, ten times better at calculus than me.
Mr. Day turns from the chalkboard, his attention now on me. “Sara, are you talking during my lecture again?”
Ah! What did I do to deserve this? I’m not the one who started this conversation in the first place!
“I—” I begin.
“No more talking.” He’s already facing the board, chalk tapping as he writes. “Why don’t you see me after class?”
A hot blush creeps into my cheeks. Rose seems satisfied as she resumes taking notes, and I’m forced to stew in my own dread until the bell rings, whereupon I stay seated while everyone else gathers their belongings and exits. At least Patrick gives me a tinyyikes, sorryshrug on his way out.
As soon as the last student leaves, Mr. Day turns to me. “Sara, are you aware of your grade in this class?”
Oh, am I aware that I’ve been marked so low on my last few quizzes I’ve probably offended Sir Isaac Newton from beyond the grave? Unfortunately, yes.
I swallow, my stomach already in knots. “I’m aware.”
“So you know you’re failing calculus.” He opens his grade book and slides his finger to my name. “I know it’s early on in the year, but it’s not looking good. I don’t want you to fall behind.”
Mr. Day teaches all the core subjects to our senior class, which means he’s aware Icanfall behind if I don’t get it together. The worst part is, I try to study hard. Sure,maybeI get distracted texting Patrick or checking Instagram or scrolling through celebrity news or updating my blog—but I’m only human. I’ve given my all to Mr. Day’s calculus quizzes and, somehow, I’ve ended up doing terribly every time.
“The information tends to go over my head,” I admit. “It’s always been hard for me. I’m not great at math.”
“Well, I want you to succeed. And I’m sure your father would appreciate that, too, so I’m going to recommend a student tutor for you.” He pulls out a folder and searches through it. “You’ll meet after school. That is, if you have some time next week?”
“Yeah,” I say warily. “Okay.”
He shuffles through his paperwork until he finds what he’s looking for. “A-ha—right. Oliver. He’s a new student here, but he comes with excellent recommendations.”
I’m nodding politely even as my confidence sinks below sea level. “Sounds good.”
Mr. Day smiles, peering at me above his bifocals. “I’ve had plenty of students struggle with calculus, Sara. You’re not alone. Extra tutoring can help.”
I tell him I’ll work harder and try to focus better, but inside, my tenacity shrivels like a deflating balloon. If I can’t kiss a cute boy without it blowing up in my face—and if I can’t pass calculus—is thereanythingI can do well? Confidence and grace and intelligence come so easily to people like Rose. Meanwhile, I’m struggling.
What is wrong with me? Am I really destined to begin my eighteenth year as a gigantic failure?
Oh god, anything but that.
SIX
Sara
Later, as I’m walking home from school, I make the mistake of calling my dad as he’s heading home from the office.
My dad’s an accountant. I know, believe me, the irony is not lost on me. Sometimes during dinner he’ll randomly decide I need a lesson in 1040 tax forms and, oh, wouldn’t it be so fun to learn about accounts payable and accounts receivable? Um, no, Dad. Allow me to fill you in on Beyoncé instead.
But I’d rather not get a lecture from him at the dinner table tonight, so why not rip the bandage off with a phone call?
“Am I going to have to start restricting outings if you can’t focus on your grades?” he’s saying. “I can’t believe this!”
“Dad,” I whine. “I already told you—I got a tutor. Everything’s going to be okay!”
In between leaving Mr. Day’s classroom and starting this walk home, I decided I gave up on the romanticizing thing too soon. Tammy was right. It was my first rejection! So what? Am I going to let a silly boy’s opinion stop me from living my best life? Who the heck cares about what some random thinks about me, anyway?
