Page 46 of I Wish You All the Best

“Oh.” That explains why he doesn’t seem to be in any pictures with baby Nathan.

“Yeah.” He bounces on his heels. “Come on, my room is just up here.” He leads me up the rest of the way and down the hallway to his bedroom.

It’s messy. Not quite disastrous, but there are clothes over everything, posters of various bands and rappers I’ve never heard of hanging on the walls. And there’s a shelf in the corner filled to the brim with books. What he hasn’t managed to fit on his shelf there or the ones above his desk, he’s stacked on his nightstand or on his dresser. Oddly enough, his bed is completely made. “Sorry, should’ve thought about cleaning up.” He kicks off his shoes.

“It’s cool,” I say, wondering where I can take a seat. The chair at his desk is filled with discarded clothes, and Nathan just plops down on his bed, grabbing his backpack.

“Okay. So, what do you want to do first?” The springs squeak underneath him.

“Algebra’s probably easiest.”

“Yeah, ‘easiest,’” he says, making the quotations with his fingers. “Come on, don’t be shy.” Nathan pats at the empty space next to him on the bed. “This is where the magic happens.”

“Are you more of a rabbit-out-of-a-hat guy, or do you do card tricks?” I ask.

“Oh, funny boy.” Nathan reaches for his algebra textbook.

“Yeah, funny.” I try to force a laugh, but even I can’t believe it. Every “boy” or “him” has been like a stab in the gut. And for some reason, it hurts worse when it comes from him. Even worse than when Mom or Dad called me their “son” or their “boy.”

“Okay, so, Mrs. Sever said that the test would cover these two chapters.” Nathan shows me the part in his textbook.

“So how much do you need to review?”

“All of it.”

“Oh, okay. Wow. Well, let’s go ahead and get started.”

Nathan isn’t totally hopeless, and I’m not sure why he thinks he is. There are a few times where he’ll mess up on an equation, or misremember the order of something, but he isn’t a lost cause. I try to recall all the ways I’ve remembered the dozens of formulas over the years, rhymes or songs or acronyms.

“How do you remember all this stuff?” he asks me.

“Don’t know.” I’ve always been good at math. “It’s sort of easy.” I flip through his review packet again. “It says there’s a practice test online you can take, and you’ll get ten extra points on the quiz.”

Nathan grabs his laptop and types in the website. “Math should be illegal.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Says you.” When prompted for his school, he picks “North Wake High School,” types in his student ID, and hits the big blue start button underneath. “Shit,” he whispers under his breath after reading the first question.

“Look.” I grab his notebook and flip to an empty sheet. “Here, just work it out.” I watch him copy down the problem, carefully making his way through it. “Remember to move that over,” I add.

“There?” He shows me his work.

“Type it in, see if it’s right,” I say, even though I know he’s got it.

The website gives him a little “Good Job!” before it moves on to the next question. “Jesus, how long is this quiz?”

I reach for my bag at the foot of his bed. “You’ve done one question, stop whining.” I open my sketchbook to the newest page. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m already close to needing a new one. The pages are sticking out, notes and sketches pouring from the seams, and I’ve only got a handful of empty pages left. “Just keep going.”

“Fine, Mom.” He groans, pulling the laptop closer. “What are you drawing?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll let you see when you’re finished.” I turn so I can hide the sketchbook from view. “Now get to work. Those ten points will come in handy.”

“Fine, fine.” He starts to work again. “Hey, what about this?” Nathan hands me his notebook, and I check over his work. “The answers aren’t adding up.”

I read over his equations quickly. “Close, you got the root wrong here.” It’s not that far up into the problem, so he won’t have to redo too much work. “Try that again and it should work out.” I hand the notebook back to him.

He lets out a long sigh and erases his work. “This is torture.”