"Oh. I'm sorry," he offers, but I shake my head.
Now I look at him. "Don't be. We're better off without him." I don't know why I give him this personal tidbit, but I do.
Sam nods. "Yeah, I can understand that." Something in his eyes tells me he really does understand it in some profound way. Vaguely I remember hearing something about his father having left his family when Sam was in middle school, and I wonder if there's more to that story, but I don't pry. "Anyway, we can go to my house," he offers.
I stop walking. "I, uh, can't," I murmur. I don't elaborate, and I inwardly curse my life that I can't even make plans to study without complications from my fucked up past.
"My mom's home. My sister too," he assures me.
It's nice of him to play to my issues, but the truth is it doesn't help. Even with his family in the house, it doesn't mean he couldn't get me alone, and if he did, I would panic. No question. "What time's the school library open until?" I ask.
"Seven, I think."
****
There are a few other students studying or doing coursework. The school librarian, Ms. Pitser, is sitting quietly at her post at the reference desk. I have to really rally my focus not to be distracted by Sam's looks, but the extra focus actually works. The way Sam explains the formulas in his deep, gravelly timbre somehow makes more sense than when Mr. Frank drones on and on in first period every day.
He has me grasping the concepts in no time, and the way he smiles at me when I get a problem right - like he's proud of me - it's an effective incentive. In just over ninety minutes he declares me ready for Monday's quiz, and by the time we're heading out of the library I'm feeling pretty self-satisfied.
The more we chat, the more it becomes clear that regardless of what I've said, we are becoming friends. There's a strange kind of comfort, a rare connection I seem to share with Sam. I realize how unlikely it is to find, and decide that maybe I should give him a chance. After all, it's not like I'm trying to replace Cam.
"So, why doesn't your sister go here?" I ask, braving a question I've been wondering about.
Sam hesitates. "She used to, but... she's homeschooled now," he shrugs.
"Why?" I blurt without thinking. I think my eyes widen with surprise at my own invasiveness.
Sam slips me a thoughtful glance. "That's kind of personal, Rory. No offense, but you're the one who doesn't want to be friends," he replies, not unkindly, and even half-smiles to soften the blow.
I frown. He's right. I stop walking and he follows suit.
"Yeah... um, so I'm real sorry about that. Actually, I think I'm probably sorry about almost everything I've said to you since we met," I let out a brief ironic laugh at my own expense. "Look, I kinda had a rough year, and I'm still kinda dealin' with things. It's not easy for me, even just this friends thing." I gesture between us. I'm inwardly cringing over how much I've revealed, by how pathetic I sound. But this is me, Iampathetic.
Sam surprises me with his grin. "Well being honest is a pretty good start." His fingers twitch once, as if he wants to touch me, but thankfully he doesn't. Vaguely I think I might not actually panic if he did. "You know, that friends offer is still on the table. Anytime you're ready, okay?"
I smile, I can't help it. I don't respond directly to his offer. Instead I say, "I was homeschooled for a while." If asking about his sister's being homeschooled was personal, then I hope he understands that my confiding this is an offer of friendship. It's the best I can do right now. "When we moved here, my dad didn't come with us. My mom needed to work, so I had to, you know, come here," I explain. I was terrified to go back to any school, let alone a public school. But I was comforted by the fact that no one here would know me, and I didn't want to make it harder for my mom, who after years of what was basically volunteer work, now has to work long hours at a private firm to keep us afloat.
Sam starts walking again and I fall in line beside him.
"You're from Florida, right?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"We're all going down to Miami for spring break.The seniors go every year, it's kind of tradition."
"Not that part of Florida," I murmur.
Sam sucks in a deep, settling breath. "Beth, my sister, she went through a bad breakup last year. She's doing fine now, but for a while... anyway, she just fell behind a little, and it's easier for her to catch up at home with private tutors, which is why I'm so ahead in calc," he explains.
"Oh."A bad breakup.Maybe I can use that to describe my year last year. It doesn't sound so bad.
"So, you coming to Andrew's tonight?" Sam asks.
I nod as we approach the juncture where the old and new parts of the building meet. It's also where I exit the building to avoid passing by the locker rooms "I, uh, go out this way," I say.
He furrows his brow. "That's the faculty lot. The student lot is this way," he nods further down the hall.
"Yeah, I know. I just, um, walk around from here," I explain, explaining very little.
