“I’m not an idiot,” she says, calmer now.
“I know you’re not.”
“Then why do I need to do extra lessons?”
“Probably just to speed things along. Scientific subjects aren’t easy, and you’re already studying to make up for everything else, too…” I say, cautiously, hoping not to find myself on the receiving end of an open-fire of insults.
“He’s only the year above me.”
“Who?”
“The loser who’s tutoring me.”
“Ahh… Well, if he’s a nerd…”
She scoffs again, but finally relaxes back into the seat. Maybe I’ve been let off lightly, this time.
“So how is it going to work?” I ask, as we’re pulling into my parents’ driveway.
We climb out of the car; this time, there are no slamming doors.
That’s already an improvement.
“After school, three times a week. Either here at home, or at the school library.”
“Who decided that?”
“The headmistress. She obviously thinks I’m stupid.”
“I don’t think that Jor…the headmistress,” I say, quickly correcting myself, “thinks you’re stupid at all. Otherwise she wouldn’t have suggested you study two years’ worth of work in one. Did you ask her anything else? Maybe an explanation?”
“I couldn’t. She had another meeting.”
“Oh.” I swallow my pride, feeling it sink heavily into my stomach. “With who?”
“Your friend. What’s his name, again?”
I freeze at the doorway as my daughter walks past me, tossing her backpack onto the living room floor. I follow her, pick it up and hand it back to her, reminding her silently – for the thousandth time – that she needs to take it up to her room. Then I decide to plunge the knife in even further.
“Tyler?”
“Yeah, him.”
She grabs the bag from my hand and chucks it onto the sofa.
At least it’s not the floor.
“What did he want?”
My daughter looks at me.
“What’s with all the questions?”
“What questions? We’re just chatting, aren’t we? A conversation needs questions and answers. I’ve asked you something, so you respond.”
“You’ve asked loads, Kerry. All about the same thing.”
“That’s not true.”
