“Hell no. I don't even know the girl. I’m just saying, I think she just wants to get through the school year unscathed.” When Lacey unlocks our arms and pops her hip, I explain further, “I just think it could be a little harder than we planned and we need to prepare for that.”
“Like I said, don’t worry. I’ll drag her ass there myself if I have to. I’ve gotta go.” She spins on her heels and attempts to walk away.
“Lacey,” I holler after her. She turns around and I hold up her books. Snatching them from my hand, she continues on her way.
Slamming my locker shut, I drag ass as I walk down the hall. Trailing my fingers on the row of lockers, I stop at mine, taking my time, waiting for the hall to clear. It’s no secret that my grades aren’t up to par, if I wanna graduate, I have to at least pass my classes. Still, I don’t announce that I have tutoring for math on Tuesdays after school. Got a reputation to uphold. Even if it is all a lie. They see who they want to see, not who I really am—an orphan, a homeless, broke kid, who will spend his entire life living paycheck to paycheck.
Once the dust has settled and there are only a few stragglers left at the end of the hall, I dip into the library. Making my way to the back, I pull out my phone and shoot a text to my best friend, Brock, letting him know that I’m swinging by after he gets done with football practice.
Still looking at my phone once I reach the back of the library, a shiver runs down my spine, as if I’m being watched. When I look up, I see her.
“Oh, hell no,” Nadia quips. She’s sitting pretty at the small round table where my tutor has sat every Tuesday for the last four weeks.
Glancing around the room, I look for Lenny, but he’s nowhere in sight. Pointing at her with my phone, I dig for answers, even though I think I already know them. “What are you doing sitting there?”
“Please tell me you are not here for math tutoring.”
Swinging my backpack around, I let it fall on the table with a thud and offer her my hand. “Zack Wells, Algebra dumbass.” Secrets out. She knows I’m just looks and no brains.
Shuffling the papers in front of her, she avoids eye contact and completely ignores my grand gesture of a handshake. “Ok. I guess we just suck it up and endure this torturous hour then go our separate ways.”
“Or, if it’s that torturous, we could just get Lenny back here. He was actually teaching me shit. I’m not so sure there’s much to learn from you.”
Finally, her eyes skate upward, her jaw clenched, and her back steeled. Slamming the book in front of her closed, she grits, “Let’s get one thing straight, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, but I have to be, so I can graduate. If you think your snide comments and holier-than-thou attitude scare me, you don’t know me at all. You will not halt my graduation day.”
Stunned by her little outburst, and a little turned on, I reluctantly slide the chair back and drop my ass into it. Grinning, I choke down the laughter working its way up my air-pipe. “Ok, little Blue Jay. Show me what you’ve got.” I pull my book out of my backpack and drop it to the floor beside me. Sinking down into the seat, I pop my pencil between my teeth and watch her try and teach me Geometry.
She talks. And talks. And talks. I’m not even sure I’ve heard what she’s saying as I watch the way her lips move, spewing out words that make no sense at all to me. I’m pretty sure she said something about quadrilaterals, but I can’t be sure. It’s like I’m in a trance. Locked inside of this small space, stuck with her, and forced to gaze at her angelic movements. Her voice is so timid, her bones so fragile, but inside, she’s rock solid and stubborn as hell.
Never forget what she did.
Keeping that in mind, I tear my eyes off from her and look down at my open book.
“Does that make any sense?” she asks, though I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Huh?” I look up at her. “Oh yeah, planes. Yep, got it.” Nope. Not a fucking clue.
“Zack, if you want to graduate, you’re gonna need to pass this class. Personally, I don’t care. But, you might want to take it a little more seriously.”
Straightening my back in the chair, I press my elbows to the table and lean forward, invading her space directly across from me. “Do you take school seriously?” I ask her, my question laced with intent.
She sniggers. “Of course, I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” I lean back, continuing to watch her.
Cocking a brow, she questions my motives here. “And how is that interesting?”
“Tell me, Nadia, why transfer to a public school mid-year after spending your entire life at a private school? Surely, your parents didn’t go broke.”
Looking down at her book, she begins scribbling something on the paper. If I were to look over, I bet it would be one of her screwed up drawings she does to distract herself. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh, come on. Humor me. Why’d you transfer?” I push harder, even though I know the answer. “Did you get in a fight? Get kicked out? Were you bullied? Harassed—sexually?”
She perks up, shooting daggers across the table. “Why would you say that?”
“Didn’t say anything. Just asked a question.”
Side-eyeing me, it’s like she’s trying to read my expression. “What have you heard?”
My shoulders rise and fall. “What’s there to hear? You got secrets, Blue Jay?”
“Quit calling me that.” Her book slams shut and she begins stuffing everything into her backpack.
“Hey, what are you doing? I still get forty minutes.”
“I can’t do this. I'll talk to the counselor. See if he can get Lenny to come back and I’ll tutor someone else.”
She rounds the table, but I reach out and grab her by the wrist. “Woah, woah, woah.” I give her arm a tug, but she locks her gaze on the row of books in front of her. “Stay. I won’t pry anymore.” This is actually the perfect scenario. Get under her skin a bit, see what rattles her.
“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you have a problem with me, Zack. If you want me to stay and tutor you, then spill. Why’d you accuse me of stealing from you? Why the cold stare down at my car? Why are you pushing for a reason as to why I switched schools?” Her head snaps to me and the look on her face is anger-ridden. “What do you know?”
"My parking spot," I spit out.
"Huh?" She looks at me dumbfoundedly. "Your parking spot?"
"Yeah. Your first day here. You stole my parking spot. That's what I was talking about when I called you a thief." It's true, she did steal my spot. But she also stole more, much more.
"That doesn't make any sense. You were at the doors before I was."
"Yeah, because your little run in with Lacey and her crew. I pulled in the parking lot behind you and you whipped right into the spot I've parked in all school year. So I went and parked elsewhere and beat you to the doors."
"Wait a minute. So you had your girlfriend dump water down my shirt. You got in my face and practically threatened me, all because I parked in your spot? Yet, you talked to me numerous times that morning and never once said a thing."