Page 46

Ms. Grover looks me up and down. For a second she doesn’t say anything, like she’s trying to decide if I’m serious or screwing with her.

“We don’t have a pie drive,” she says slowly, “but we do have a bake sale coming up.”

“Perfect.”

She hesitates, frowning a little, then pulls a flyer from her desk and hands it over like she’s still not sure what to make of me.

“You bake?”

“No. But I know someone who does.”

This is fucking gold. I’ll get Carmen to help with the bake sale. Women love that kind of shit. She’ll see what a stand-up guy I am, helping out at the school. Then she’ll finally bend over, and I can get the hell out of here.

I pull into the driveway feeling pretty damn pleased with myself. Then I spot her car already there. Carmen’s never home this early.

I kill the engine, and that’s when I see her—sitting in the driver’s seat with her shoulders shaking, face buried in her hands.

Is she crying?

Fuck.

I hop out and stand there frozen for a second. She’d probably want me to leave her alone. I should go inside and pretend I never saw this.

I take one step toward my door.

Then I hear a muffled sob.

“Goddamn it,” I mutter.

I hesitate another beat before walking over to her car and knocking softly on the window. She jumps, quickly wiping at her cheeks before cracking the window open.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says, voice cracking.

I don’t move. “Carmen.”

The dam breaks completely.

“I failed my math quiz,” she sobs. “I thought I had it this time, but I don’t. My brain just…won’t work right. The way my teacher looked at me⁠—”

Tears spill down her face. She presses a crumpled tissue to her eyes, shoulders shaking harder.

I hate this.

I open her car door. “Let me see it.”

She hands me the damp test paper. I scan it quickly. “Most of your working is right. The final answer’s off, but they usually give partial marks. Your teacher’s being a dick.”

Wrong thing to say. She starts crying even harder.

Shit.

I stare at her, completely out of my depth. The tissue is soaked through and her whole body is shaking so hard the car almost rocks with it.

“Alright,” I say. “That’s enough.”

She keeps crying.