“Don’t worry,” Dad said, in his Father Knows Best tone of voice. “It’ll come. Your math scores are too good for you not to get a scholarship.”
Samuel Lee, my father, was a city engineer—or as he liked to call himself, “the best damn underpaid, overworked civil servant Columbia had ever seen.” In addition to my passion for math and science, I also inherited my beautiful smile, light brown eyes, and rich cocoa skin from him. Unfortunately, he also passed along his nearsightedness, sausage-shaped fingers, and soft, pudgy mid-section.
Dad banged a spoon against the pan, trying to loosen a brown glob from it. “How was tutoring?”
“Interesting,” I said. “I ended up tutoring a classmate from Piedmont.”
Creases shot across his forehead. “When did you start tutoring high school kids?”
His question would have seemed innocent enough to the untrained observer, but I could already hear the worry in his voice. The frown on his face was as large as his potbelly. He stuck a spoonful of his experimental goop in his mouth. Still frowning, he forced it down.
“Today was the first,” I said. “Mrs. Hawthorne recommended me to one of her students. A junior.” I paused and watched the steam begin to build in Dad’s head. Time to release the pressure. “She needed help in trigonometry.”
A weary smile came to his face. “That’s great. I’m sure it’s nice to teach something other than multiplication tables and simple arithmetic.” He finally gave up on his experiment and turned off the stove. “You said she went to Piedmont, right? What’s her name?”
“Sarah Gamble.” I felt like I was in elementary school as I bounced over to him. “And her mother is Justice Deborah Gamble. Bryce thinks that if things go well, she’ll offer to write me a recommendation if I get selected as a finalist for the President’s Achievement Program.”
By now, Dad was beaming. “With your test scores and a letter from Justice Gamble, you’d almost be guaranteed a scholarship.” He quickly stifled his smile. “Of course, we don’t need to expect anything out of this. And even if you don’t get a scholarship to Georgia Tech, as long as you get accepted, I can pay for it.” He peered down at me. “That’s what fathers are supposed to do.”
I felt my face sour. “You don’t have to worry about paying for me to go to college. I’ll get the scholarship.”
“I’m sure you will, Rhonda. I was just saying that if things don’t work out—”
“I’ll get the scholarship,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. The black smoke that had been floating over the stove suddenly seemed to have surrounded us. I thought about apologizing for being so short with him, but decided against it. It was easier for both of us if I just kept quiet.
Dad sighed. “Why don’t you tell me about your new student?”
I nodded, happy to be crossing back into neutral territory. “Sarah seems nice,” I said. “She’s one of the most popular girls at school. She’s a cheerleader and president of the …”
My voice trailed off as a familiar grimace came to Dad’s face. His eyes narrowed and his jaw turned into concrete.
“Honey, you’ve got to watch out for girls like her. They can be a handful.”
I shook my head. So much for neutral territory.
“Maybe you shouldn’t tutor her. You know, so you’re not … tempted to fall back into your old crowd. You don’t really need a recommendation from Justice Gamble. Your grades are good enough to speak for themselves.”
He stepped toward me. I thought he was going to hug me, but instead he reached into his pocket, pulled out some cash, and dropped it on the counter. “Call me when the pizza gets here. I’m going to my room to watch a little of the basketball game.”
I pretended to count the money as Dad strode off, but as soon as I heard the familiar click of his bedroom door shutting, I dropped the cash and made a beeline to the freezer. By the time the pizza arrived twenty minutes later, I had eaten two bowls of strawberry ice cream, both smothered in chocolate syrup and topped with sprinkles.
There was no doubt about it—tomorrow was definitely shaping up to be another day for the elastic waistband pants.
For fifty-two minutes and forty-nine seconds, I stared at the back of Gail’s head as she fired question after question at our teacher. Mr. Miller probably lost two gallons of water a day from all the sweating he did in our class.
Not that the rest of us cared. We had already passed all the math-related Advanced Placement classes we were allowed to take in high school. This class was basically a glorified study hall—well, for everyone except Gail.
As soon as the bell rang, the entire class sighed in relief and began collecting their bags.
I balled up a piece of paper and threw it at Gail’s head. “Do you have to ask so many questions?”
Gail twisted around in her desk. “With as much as my parents are shelling out for my education, I feel I can ask as many questions as I want.”
“But Gail, you already know the answers to most of the questions. Hell, you know the material better than Mr. Miller.”
“We all know the material better than Mr. Miller.”
I rose from my desk. “Still, you shouldn’t show off. You may need him to write a recommendation—”
“Speaking of recommendations,” Gail began, as she leapt from her desk and grabbed my wrist, “guess what I got in the mail yesterday.”
I could already tell by the sound of her voice. “Stanford?”
She nodded so hard, I thought she was going to shake her teeth loose. “I got in,” she said.
“Don’t tell me you’re surprised. You got a perfect math score on the SAT.”
“Now that you mention it …”
I rolled my eyes. “I would hate you, if you weren’t my best friend.”
She laughed. “I’m just happy that it’s over with. I feel like I’ve aged ten years over the past three months.”
“Don’t be so smug. Some of us are still aging, remember.”
Gail and I walked out of the classroom and down the hallway. “I guess you haven’t heard anything from Georgia Tech,” she said, her voice a little less cheerful. “Well, if it makes you feel better, my sister didn’t find out about her scholarship until after Christmas. And if she got a scholarship, you’ll definitely get one.”
Gail Smith had been my best friend since I met her on the first day of tenth grade, her first year at Piedmont Academy. I always joked that she had a plain name, but her looks certainly weren’t plain. She was part Korean, part Cuban, and part African. Her skin was a striking bronze, her hair was a reddish-brown mix. And not only was she pretty, but she could recite π to the fortieth decimal place.
We went through the lunch line and headed to our usual table, way off in the corner of the cafeteria. The last of my merry band of super-smart outcasts, Xavier, was already sitting, his fingers punching away at the keys on his laptop. Xavier was the editor of our school newspaper, but being that he only had a staff of two, he ended up writing most of the articles himself.
We slid into our seats, and Gail quickly informed Xavier of her good news. Xavier slumped farther in his seat and looked at me. “So I guess that means it’ll just be me and you taking the SAT this Saturday,” he said.
“I’ve taken the SAT four times, and I still can’t get my Verbal scores up.” I bit into a soggy carrot stick. “I think I’m stuck with the scores I have.”
“At least you have the full ride from USC to fall back on,” Xavier said.
“USC isn’t an option.”
Gail and Xavier exchanged looks, but didn’t say anything. They just didn’t understand—I couldn’t stay in Columbia and go to USC. I had to escape. I needed a fresh start.
I began to pull out my chemistry book, but stop
ped once I caught a glimpse of Sarah Gamble. She and the rest of the cheerleaders had set up shop at a table in the middle of the cafeteria. They wore the same drab blue blazers as everyone else, but somehow they made them look like fashion statements. The way she laughed and carried on, she didn’t look like a girl that had failed a major test today.
“Maybe she passed after all,” I mumbled to myself.
“Maybe who passed?” Xavier boomed. Xavier was short and skinny, with spiky blonde hair and a voice like a cannon. Every time he spoke, his Adam’s apple expanded so much, I thought he was choking.
I snapped my head toward him. “No one,” I said, a little too quickly.
That caught Gail’s interest. She pushed her tray away and scooted closer to me. “You’re mighty jumpy.”
I slid away from her. “Everybody’ll think I’m gay if we sit this close to each other.”
“Come on, Rhonda,” she said. “They probably think that anyway.”
Good point.
“What’s his name?” Gail asked.
“Who?” I replied.
She shook her head. “We can spend all day playing this cat-and-mouse game, or you can save both of us some time and tell me his name.”
I sighed and readjusted my glasses. “I wish I were thinking about a guy. Y’all know I don’t have any type of love life.”
They both nodded and went back to eating their lunch, and I immediately wanted to throw my tray at them. I hated that they conceded defeat so quickly. What if I had been thinking about a guy? Just because I hadn’t gone out on a date in almost three years didn’t mean I couldn’t.
Out of the three of us, Gail’s love life was in the best shape. Her boyfriend, a freshman at MIT, was as exciting as a brown paper bag, but at least he treated her nicely. My love life was ground zero right now—though at least the rubble proved I had once had a love life, unlike Xavier. Xavier was a career virgin trying to find a new line of work.
Of course, none of our love lives compared to Sarah’s. Girls like her could—
“Rhonda, what are you looking at?” Xavier asked.
I quickly turned back to the group. I hadn’t realized I was staring at Sarah again.
“Okay, what’s really going on?” Gail asked. “I know you’re up to something.”
“Don’t bother answering,” Xavier said. “I see exactly what you were looking at.”
Everyone at the table turned and glanced in the direction that I had been staring. Sarah was standing up now, talking to her older brother, David.
“You were staring at David Gamble, weren’t you?” Gail demanded. “Don’t tell me you have a crush on him.”
I tugged at my collar. “Of course I don’t.”
“What’s wrong with David?” Xavier asked. “He’s in my biology class. He seems really nice.”
“And that makes you an expert on David Gamble?” Gail folded her arms across her chest. “Rhonda doesn’t need a boyfriend like him, anyway. Especially since in less than a year, she’ll be a freshman at Georgia Tech.”
Xavier sat up in his seat. “But you have a boyfriend—”
“Lewis isn’t like these immature boys we go to school with.” Gail’s voice dropped a little as she turned toward me. “And anyway, my situation is entirely different than Rhonda’s.”
I frowned, but didn’t say anything. What could I say? Gail was exactly right.
“I’m not saying that Rhonda shouldn’t have a boyfriend,” she continued. “I’m saying that she shouldn’t have a boyfriend like him.”
“Why are we having this conversation?” I shook my head. “I wasn’t even looking at David Gamble.”
“Then who were you looking at?” Gail asked.
My stomach began to churn. “Um … ”
“You were staring pretty hard in that direction,” Xavier said. There was a slight glint in his eye. “Do you have a crush on his sister?”
“Shut up, Xavier,” both Gail and I said.
Gail sighed. “Do I have to remind you that he plays on the basketball team? With Christopher?”
Xavier nodded. “Christopher is a jerk.”
“How many times do I have to say that I’m not interested in David Gamble?” I paused and glared at Xavier. “Or his sister.” I stood and grabbed my tray. “I think I’m done with lunch for today.”
I tossed my half-eaten ham sandwich in the trash and marched to the library. But as I walked there, I realized I wasn’t mad at Gail and Xavier because they didn’t think I could get a guy like David Gamble. I was mad because I knew I couldn’t get a guy like David. And that wouldn’t have been so bad, except that I really did have a crush on him.
David and Sarah had transferred to Piedmont Academy last year. They didn’t have any trouble fitting in with the rich crowd. Most of the people around here didn’t see things in terms of race. Green was the preferred color of choice.
Sarah was an instant hit with everyone at school. I had heard her name mentioned by four different guys before I even caught a glimpse of the girl. Finally, at the end of the day, I saw her. She was tall and lanky, like a supermodel, with full red lips and perfectly shaped hazel eyes. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.
I hated her instantly.
David was a much more rugged version of his sister. He, too, was tall and lanky, but that was about the only similarity between them. It always seemed that Sarah was the center of attention, while David shied away from the crowd. The only reasons he was popular was because he was Sarah’s brother, he dated popular girls, and he was a basketball player. He was also extremely cute, but he never smiled, which I couldn’t understand. I even had a class with him last semester. On the first day of Spanish class, in the process of rushing into the room, I damn near ran him over. But instead of being angry, David just apologized in that deep, hypnotizing voice of his and allowed me to walk in first.
And even though I knew I would never date him, I couldn’t deny that my heart fluttered, if only for a thousandth of a second.
“How did you do on your test?” I asked as Sarah slammed her books on the table the following evening.
The look on her face said it all.
“How bad?”
“Pretty damn bad.”
I motioned for her to sit next to me. “We just need to work a little harder.”
She shook her head. “I’m through with this tutoring bullshit. I’ll take the class over again in the summer.”
“But what about your mother?”
“Fuck her,” she said, her voice carrying across the room. “I don’t care anymore.”
I sat back in my chair and glanced toward Bryce’s office. He was already headed toward our table.
“Maybe we should go for a walk or something,” I said.
Her face seemed to relax at that thought. She chewed on her lip for a second before nodding. “But what about your elementary school kids?”
“Most of my regulars were already in. Bryce has rearranged my schedule so I’ll have about thirty minutes every other day to tutor you.”
“Tell him to change it back.”
Bryce reached the table. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem,” I said, already standing. “We’re just going for a walk.”
He flashed me a fatherly look. “I don’t know … it’ll be dark soon.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be right outside.” I grabbed Sarah by the arm and dragged her out of the building before Bryce could say anything else.
Sarah pulled her hair from her face and rubbed her eyes. Her black mascara was beginning to smear across her cheeks. She would have made a beautiful raccoon.
“It’s just that I felt so good after you helped me.” She plopped down on the curb and twirled her hair around her fingers. “I eve
n studied for a few extra hours after I left the center. When I walked into that classroom, I knew I was going to pass that test.”
“What happened?”
“I was too slow. I was only able to finish half the test.”
“You’ll get it next time,” I said. “You’ve got to keep plugging away at it.”
Sarah looked at me and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something. But instead, she leapt from the curb and ran to the bushes. Seconds later, she was throwing up.
I jumped up and ran to her. By the time I got there, she had finished “fertilizing” the shrubbery. She spat a few times and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Stomach virus,” she mumbled.
I took a quick sniff of her as she passed by. She didn’t smell like alcohol, unless she was taking shots of peach-scented perfume.
“You know what I need?” she said. “A pint of ice cream.”
“But you just threw up.”
Sarah smirked. “Can you think of a better way for me to get this nasty taste out of my mouth?” She headed toward a convenience store across the street. “I only hope they have French vanilla.”
I smiled and followed her. I guess even a snob had to have some good points.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” Sarah asked. We sat at the bus stop around the corner from the center. I could imagine how crazy we looked, eating ice cream outside in the first week of December. No wonder the bus didn’t bother stopping as it passed by.
“I’m not staring at you.” I popped the last of my ice cream sandwich into my mouth and crumpled the paper wrapper in my fist. “I just don’t want you to give up, okay? You’re really smart, whether you believe it or not.”
“Why do you care?”
I shrugged. “I’m your tutor. It’s part of the job.”
My Life as a Rhombus Page 2