The Lesson Plan: Extra Credit, Book 3

by Charlotte Penn Clark

We all look at each other, wondering who should go first. I guess that would be me. I study my blanket closely and smooth out the wrinkles over my lap.

  “Sex hasn’t always been so good for me,” I say awkwardly. “And things with Noah were great until we started making out. I mean, then they were great too in another way.” I probably look as red as Annika’s soup.

  Annika snorted. “Things weren’t that great before or you wouldn’t have started making out with him. Obviously something was missing.”

  “I think maybe sex and friendship don’t mix.” Duh!

  “You’re wrong.” That’s Lani.

  “So wrong!” That’s Annika.

  They both shake their heads, looking exasperated

  “And we’re not talking about sex in general, whatever that might be, but sex with Noah. Your feelings for each other.” Lani pauses and exchanges another glance with Annika. They look anxious like they’re about to give me bad news so I tense.

  “What?”

  “Noah has always had a thing for you,” Lani says patiently.

  That does not compute. “What do you mean ‘a thing’?”

  Annika shakes her head. “I told you, Lani. She won’t get it unless she’s hit over the head. The girl doesn’t get subtlety!”

  “Hey!” I protest.

  “He’s been in love with you since the class started,” Annika announces.

  “No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You said that once before but you were just being mean.”

  Annika laughs a little. “Not then and not now. Lani, your turn. She’s like a stone wall.”

  “A brick wall. Stonewall means something different.” Lani takes my hand in hers while Annika makes a face. “Holly, why can’t you believe Noah is in love with you? We’ve tried to tell you. He’s tried to show you.”

  I squirm. I actually squirm. “We’re so different. He’s so good at all the stuff I’m bad at. Like subtlety.” If what they are saying is true I’ve been a big fat idiot. If what they’re saying is true…. My heart starts racing.

  “And you’re good at all the stuff he’s bad at.” Annika folds her arms over her chest like she’s won this argument.

  “What’s he bad at?” I wonder. Then I have to smile a little as Lani and Annika burst into laughter.

  “Girl, you’re in deep! I could never be blind to Matt’s faults and I love him to death!” She giggles some more and Lani just nods in agreement.

  “Yeah, I guess I could think of a few things.” I’m starting to feel a little bit better.

  Annika tilts her head at me. “Why were you keeping him on the down low? That had to hurt him.”

  I cringe. I feel awful now. “I didn’t know what we were doing. And it’s hard to be here with you all when you’re all kissy faces and we’re all…whatever.” It sounds lame so I hang my head.

  Lani sighs. “Can’t help the kissy faces, I’m afraid, but we’re not judgey. We’re all friends and we should be able to hang out together.”

  “It’s too late now!” I wail. “He’s done with me.” I drop back onto my pillows, wanting to cry and kick and hide again.

  “Mmm. Yeah. Lysistrata.” Lani covers her mouth as if hiding a smile.

  I bolt up again, suspicious. “What?”

  “We looked it up.” Annika starts coughing and I stare at them.

  “It’s a play. A classical Greek play.”

  I roll my eyes because, really, if he’s not quoting Latin he’s referencing ancient Greek. That’s Noah.

  “About a woman who convinces all the women in her town not to have sex with their husbands in order to teach them a lesson.” The laughter is leaking out into Lani’s voice now.

  I absorb this in silence. “Yeah,” I admit. “I can definitely think of one or two annoying things about Noah.”

  19

  Noah

  The last two weeks before a marathon run require easing up on mileage so I have way too much time on my hands now and I’m not nearly tired enough not to notice how much I miss Holly. I go to classes. I run intervals on the campus track instead of doing long runs around the reservoir. I wait.

  For what, I wonder? In the play Lysistrata the women of Athens refuse to have sex with their husbands until they end the long-running Peloponnesian War. In other words, the sex strike is tactical. But I didn’t lay down any condition for my strike: I forgot to include a deadline. Maybe that’s because, honestly, I’m not really an ultimatum kind of guy. I just got so mad and hurt and fed up that I exploded. And now I’m backed into a corner. I didn’t mean to never have sex with Holly again! So now what do I do?

  I didn’t mean to cut her off entirely either but somehow that’s what’s happened. We run into each other and mumble something before rushing away again. Our friends watch pityingly as we avoid eye contact and opt out of invitations. Holly has to live with them so maybe it’s worse for her. I’m not sure. I’m very tempted to quiz one of them about how she’s doing. When I see her she looks pale and tired. Maybe I do too.

  “Intervention, part two.”

  Matt interrupts my broken record of regrets and anxieties. I look up from shelving books in the library and see him and Kyle leaning against the opposite stacks.

  “What?” I ask warily, eyeing them.

  “Not so fun being on the other side, is it?” Kyle snickers. He pulls out a chair and drops into it.

  “I’m working,” I stall, though I’m pretty sure they won’t buy it.

  They don’t.

  “Sit,” Matt orders, pointing to another chair. I do because I might as well get this over with. He chooses another chair and suddenly I’m facing them across a table as if I’m being interviewed or interrogated. I clench my teeth together. This sucks.

  But first things first. “She’s okay, right?”

  “Who?” Kyle asks, eyebrows way up high.

  “Fuck you,” I say, resigned. I turn to Matt, though I’m unlikely to find more sympathy there. I played a key role in the intervention we staged last semester for him and Annika.

  “She’s fine,” he assures me, then continues to study me.

  “What?” I say again, getting nervous.

  “What do you want?” Matt asks bluntly.

  “Now there’s an existential question. Do you mean today? Someday? For myself? For the human race?”

  “Cut it out. You can’t bullshit the bullshitter. What do you want from Holly?” Don’t these guys ever blink? I’m getting more and more uncomfortable.

  Shit. I open my mouth but everything I want to say sounds stupid. “I want her to love me back,” I admit reluctantly. Yep, stupid.

  Matt nods sagely and slams a palm on the table. “Exactly.”

  Kyle throws his arms up in air. “Target acquired. We done here?” He starts to stand up and Matt shoots him a look. He sits back down with a sigh.

  “So you know what you want. Now how are you going to get it?”

  “I can’t make her love me back!” I protest.

  “How do you know she doesn’t? Have you ever asked her?” Now Matt raises his eyebrows.

  Yeah, that.

  “My guess? She does. Kyle, what do you think?”

  “I’d say probability’s at about 99.9% With any standard margin of error you’ve got a sure thing there.”

  I sink back into my chair. “You two don’t know shit,” I mumble.

  More eyebrows. “Huh. Yet we’re the ones with amazing girlfriends. You happy with Lani, Kyle?”

  “You have no idea,” he says, his voice softening.

  “I might,” Matt says, “Because I’m head over heels for Annika.” He leans forward. “But it was fucking hard work to get here, Noah, and I had to put myself out there more than once. It’s still hard work but God it’s so worth it.” He shakes his head as if he still can’t believe his good fortune.

  Kyle nods his head and tilts it at Matt. “What he says.”

  “It’s not the same,” I complain, but I know I can’t even convince myself. I’ve
been hiding my head in the sand, paralyzed, waiting passively. Like Hamlet, and I should know better than that dumb Dane. I have to do something. Be the hero.

  “You’re scared,” Kyle nods again. “I get it. I freaked out about being with Lani then I freaked out even more about not being with her. She still scares the shit out of me sometimes and she’s the sweetest, warmest, all around best person on the planet. Unlike some girlfriends I could name, who are just plain terrifying.”

  “Hey!” Matt protests, though he’s grinning.

  “Okay, okay,” I surrender, hands up. “I’ll talk to Holly. Tell her how I feel. All that crap.” A lump rises in my throat and I try to swallow. “After the marathon this weekend.”

  “You got to stop running, Noah,” Kyle shoves to his feet and claps a hand on my shoulder. Matt stands too and they both peer down at me for a moment.

  “We don’t mean literally,” Matt clarifies.

  Yeah, I got that.

  Do you listen to music when you run?

  This text is the first contact from Holly since our fight and it’s a little confusing. It’s the night before the marathon and I’m already wound up. I’m ready though. All I have to do is show up and put one foot in front of the other. For twenty-six miles.

  Depends. Why?

  I made you a playlist for tomorrow. I’ll share it with you.

  I read that several times. It’s an overture and I’m almost giddy with relief, though I’m a little ashamed that she broke down before I did. I should have reached out to her first.

  Thanks. Holly—?

  Later, okay? You need to focus. I won’t say break a leg ;)

  No, don’t.

  Good luck!

  Talk tomorrow?

  Yes.

  She’s right. I do need to focus. But I relax a little and download the playlist she shares with me before tumbling into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

  No one is there to see me start. Stupid, Noah! I told my friends not to bother to get up at 8 a.m. to schlep to Staten Island and they said they’d watch near the finish line in Central Park and look out for me. Being a first-time marathoner I’m in one of the middle waves but getting to the starting point with fifty thousand other runners was tough enough. It’s a crazy, chaotic scene and I probably wouldn’t have seen much of my friends anyway but I still kind of wish there were a familiar face somewhere.

  Instead we’re all herded into corrals like steers to slaughter then released at various timed intervals. It’s disconcerting—though, to be fair, crossing the Verrazano Bridge is exhilarating. The wind is high and distracts me so I delay starting Holly’s playlist and try to zone out for the long haul.

  When I do I have to smile. It opens with the Velvet Underground’s “Who Loves the Sun,” which makes me nostalgic for that second class when I started to fall for her. I realize now that I didn’t really fall in love with her that day. I got ready to fall in love with her, if that makes sense. Then I had to learn all the stuff about her that would fascinate and frustrate me over those next few months. That’s when I really fell in love with her, when I got so attached that I can feel her with me even now, as I follow the crowds along Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn, listening to her music. I grab a paper cup of water at a way station and realize maybe Cupid’s arrow was gradual after all.

  I’m halfway through the race, just hitting Queens, before I notice how weird her playlist is. Whitney Houston? I wrinkle my nose. Then the Magnetic Fields? It’s like there’s some logic to it that I’m missing and trying to figure it out takes my mind off the mind-numbing repetition of running, which is both what I love and hate about these long distances. The same motion over and over and over—it’s soothing and boring. You have to focus on not speeding up, on being the slow and steady tortoise…and gradually the mental focus to manage the boredom turns into mental focus to manage the agony.

  I smile wanly at the cheering crowds along the sidelines as my wave hits the Bronx. The winners will have crossed the finish line already. I think of Philippides, the first marathoner, who ran from Marathon to Athens with news of a Greek victory in the Persian War. Then died as soon as he delivered his message. That feels about right. The soles of my feet ache and the air burns going in and out of my lungs. I start conjugating irregular verbs in ancient Greek, wondering which word Philippides used that’s been translated as “joy” and why his name is only one letter different than the Philippines.

  The Kinks’ “All Day and All of the Night.” Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love.” I’m running down Fifth Avenue, on the last punishing five miles of the race, hurting everywhere, when the Beatles’ “She Loves You” starts up. I almost stumble, but catch myself, and that burst of happiness carries me closer to the finish line. Joy.

  20

  Holly

  I check the app again and stamp my feet because it gets cold when you stand in one place, waiting, for a long time.

  “Where is he now?” Annika asks, huddling closer to Matt. We’ve got a prime spot near the end of the race route but the crowds still push us all together. It’s probably warmer that way anyway. There’s a cold wind blowing.

  “Fifth Avenue and 110th. At 23 miles. Jesus!” I’m awed. I don’t think I could run three. “He should come by here within a few minutes.”

  The streets have been cleared of all cars but they are still overflowing with runners and we’ve been watching the stampede for forty minutes already. Even with the app it’s hard to know exactly when a runner will pass which checkpoints. I jump up and down a few times and I know I’m not trying to warm up from the cold.

  I’m nervous. That playlist was about as subtle as I get, and it wasn’t subtle. I feel as if I’ve written out my feelings in capital letters in the sky. We said we’d talk after his race but then he’s bound to be exhausted so I wonder how long I’ll be in this suspense. I scan the crowd anxiously and it’s strangely hypnotic to watch the flow of runners, of all sizes and shapes, coming in wave after wave. I find it hard to tear my eyes away. I edge in front of Kyle and Lani so I can see better. Some people along the edge of the sidewalk are high-fiving runners and whooping it up. We’re all trying to cheer everyone on because these last few miles must be hellish.

  “There he is!” Matt shouts. He’s gone a little upstream to check ahead. “Noah!” he bellows. “You go, man!”

  And I see Noah among the crowd as if a camera has zoomed in on him. He’s sweaty and frowning in concentration but he sees Matt and breaks into a grin. He whips off his headphones and veers through the crowd toward us, where our friends are jumping up and down cheering him on.

  My heart starts thumping as he approaches and I can’t cheer or clap or even smile. I’m just stuck, watching him wide-eyed and alert. Then his eyes meet mine as I stand there like a statue in the crowd and next thing I know he’s swept me up and around in a circle. When my feet hit the ground again he covers my gasp with a hard, fast kiss. I hear people cheering and laughing as I blink up at him, mouth still parted. He grins at me and gives me a little wave as he jogs off again. “Later!”

  I raise my hand to my mouth, stunned. Oh.

  “Good sign!” Kyle says, nodding. “He’s not dead yet.”

  I’m dimly aware of Matt and Annika mobilizing us to meet Noah near the finish line. They seem to have thought this through because it was Matt’s idea to drive down to the city together so we could give Noah a ride back. “He’s going to be seriously wiped out!” Matt had warned.

  So even though it would be hard to park and traffic would be a nightmare around the closed roads we piled into his car together and drove the hour into the city this morning. We hustle across the park now, texting Noah as we go. It takes us forty more minutes because of the crowds but he directs us to a nearby street on Central Park West, where we find him leaning against a wall, covered in the kind of warming blanket you see in camping stores. He’s clutching his phone in one hand and sucking back some green liquid with the other.

  “Congratulations, man!” Matt
lifts a hand to high-five him and Noah just groans.

  “Can’t.”

  I creep a little closer. “You okay?” He meets my eyes, looking serious. I frown. “Not hurt?” He shakes his head.

  Annika tucks her arm into Matt’s. “Maybe we should go get the car. We can’t make him walk to it.”

  “Bless you!” Noah says, his eyes closing. “I did some walking and stretching already.”

  “Good idea, Anni, but I’m driving,” Matt says firmly.

  “What’s the point of going out with you if I can’t drive your car?” she pouts, giving him a sidelong look.

  He leans in to whisper something in her ear, then pauses to smack her butt lightly as she blushes. “Now let’s go. Holly, you stay with him. Kyle, Lani, you heading out?”

  “Yeah,” Lani says, and I notice that she’s dressed up in a skirt and heeled boots. “We’ve got ballet tickets to a matinee at Lincoln Center. We can walk there and take a train home. C’mon, Kyle! I’m getting cold.” She shivers.

  “Can’t have that.” He pulls her in close. “Congrats, Noah. That was one awesome race. Now you never have to do it again.”

  Noah smiles slightly though his eyes stay closed. “Next year,” he whispers.

  The others laugh and shake their heads at the craziness, then scatter in different directions. Noah and I are left alone. He folds over his knees with a groan, pulling at his taut leg muscles, then sinks heavily onto a bench. I perch near him and reach out to smooth the damp hair off his face.

  “You want something? Need anything?”

  “Just you.”

  He takes my other hand in both of his and we sit like that, silent, until Matt and Annika come back for us, then we sit like that in the back seat of the car while Matt and Annika bicker all the way back to campus.

  “Thanks,” Noah manages when Matt and Annika deposit him at his dorm. He winces as he gets out of the car.

  “You staying with him?” Matt asks, watching skeptically as Noah sways on his feet.