I’ve drawn my attention away from Joe, ready to twirl over to Patrick’s desk and show him my grade, when I notice he’s not at his desk. Huh. He got his test before I did, though we still have a few more minutes until the bell rings. I guess he stepped out.
“I just wish I would’ve been a better tutor last night,” Joe’s saying. “As much as I understand some math, it’s not my strongest subject.”
Agh, he’s so kind! And so hard on himself, which I don’t want. I wouldn’t have passed without his guidance. Oliver tried, too, I guess. So did Vicky.
Geez, it really does take a village.
He runs his fingers through his hair, his elbows resting on the flat surface of my desk, and a tiny thrill zings through my chest when his eyes meet mine.
“Don’t worry, you helped me so much,” I say. “And now I can go to the festival tonight, so really,thank you.”
“But we have to get your grades higher so you can stay in Newspaper Club, right?”
Oh. Right. That’s true.
“You told me writing was something you love,” he continues. “So if you want to spend more time doing it, I say we figure out a way to help you. Maybe it’s best if you got an official tutor.”
Uh, hold on. Is he not my official tutor now?
“A tutor?” I say weakly.
“Yeah! A real tutor will be perfect—oh! I got it!” He snaps his fingers, eyes lighting up. “My little brother, Oliver.”
You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.
“He’s a math tutor—why didn’t I think of this before? And he’s looking for more students. He’s trying to save money to buy a guitar.”
Joe means well, which is why I am not about to tell him his brother used to tutor me. And that he sort ofdidtutor me while Joe was on the phone with their mom last night.
Does this mean Joe doesn’t want to spend time together? Or is he really trying to look out for my best interests?
“But I thought you—” I stop short, just now processing the last thing he said about Oliver. “A guitar?”
He pulls out his phone from his pocket. “Yeah! He’s really good. Let me text you his number. This is perfect! I don’t know why I didn’t think of this, uh—”
I must have a dejected look on my face, because he reaches out and nudges my chin up with his index finger. My heart flutters at his contact.
“Don’t worry, okay? We’ll figure this out,” Joe says gently, dropping his hand. “He’s gonna help you get your grades up, I promise. He’s really smart. I know school can be stressful, and sometimes it’s hard to believe we can accomplish difficult things, but you are amazing, Sara Lin! And smart. You can do this.”
All my thoughts have zeroed in on the spot where he lightly touched my chin. Now he’s smiling at me like I’m the only one in the room and—
“What’s this?”
Before I can stop her, Rose swipes my test and holds it in front of her eyes, scanning my grade.
“Not the best mark, huh? But at least you passed.”
Why does everyone keep saying that? Sixty-eight percent is a C minus, for Pete’s sake. Sure, I’m not a genius, but that’s passing!
Patrick rushes over a second later, almost like he’s been chasing her. But that doesn’t make any sense. Still, his lips slip into an aggravated frown as he tries to subtly nudge her in the ribs.
What’s going on?
“Anyway,” Rose continues, swatting him away like he’s a gnat. “That means you’ll be joining us at the festival later, I presume? Which is good, because we’ll need all the help we can get.” She flashes a smile at Joe. “Oh, and Joe? I have some things I wanted to run by you for the festival tonight. Do you mind?” She gestures to her desk, then cuts her eyes to me. “Besides, Patrick just told me he wants some alone time with Sara.”
“What?” Patrick blurts.
Rose whacks him in the stomach with the hand that’s still holding my test. He grunts as he takes it from her, but he won’t meet my eyes.
