Destination Unknown

by Amy Clipston

  He looked sullen and serious, and I wondered what he wanted to discuss with me. From what I remembered, Taylor and I hadn’t spoken since we had shared our lunchtime desserts in elementary school.

  “Hi, Taylor.” I stopped in front of him and fingered a tie on my Windbreaker as I looked up at him. “What did you need?”

  He stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. “Mr. Turner said you need some help with calculus.”

  “You’re a tutor?” The words escaped my lips before I could stop them, and I immediately wanted to slap myself for being rude.

  “I imagine you find it hard to believe that someone like me could actually understand calculus, huh?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile. I felt myself drawn into his deep-brown eyes. I wondered if his eyes had always been so dark and bottomless. They were innocent and worldly all at the same time. Had they magically transformed when he shot up to nearly six foot two?

  “I’m sorry. That was rude, and I didn’t mean to say it.” I felt the tips of my ears burn with embarrassment. “I won’t take up a lot of your time. I don’t need much help.”

  “You only need a little help, right? I hear that a lot, until the students actually get into calculus. When they realize just how difficult it is, they wind up spending a whole lot of time with me.” He hugged the black helmet to his chest, and his expression remained dark but confident. “How’s tomorrow at twelve thirty?”

  “That works.” I nodded. “I have a free period after lunch.”

  “I’ll wait for you in conference room number two in the library. I’m tutoring someone in geometry during my lunch period, so I’ll be there already.” He took a step back toward the motorcycle. “Bring your book and your last test.”

  “Okay.” I studied him and wondered how long he’d been mentoring students. Why hadn’t I seen him at any of the peer mentoring meetings? Was it because he only tutored math, while I helped students with Spanish and English?

  He pulled the helmet over his head and fastened the strap before straddling the motorcycle next to him.

  “Is that your bike?” I pointed toward the motorcycle and wondered what it would be like to ride on one. Was it as exciting and liberating as it looked in the movies?

  “No, I’m stealing it.” His response was muffled through the helmet. “See you tomorrow, Whitney.”

  Before I could respond, the bike roared to life. It choked and went silent before he revved it again and then sped off through the parking lot. I, meanwhile, just stood there, watching him disappear around the corner. I’d never imagined that Taylor Martinez was a math tutor and rode a motorcycle. He’d transformed from the quiet boy who shared his chocolate-chip cookies with me during lunch in fourth grade to a tall, arrogant senior who was a math whiz.

  “What did Martinez want?”

  I spun around and found Tiffany, Kristin, Brett, Doug, and Spencer watching me.

  “Whitney, I’m talking to you. What did he want?” Kristin asked again.

  “Oh. You mean Taylor?” I searched for an excuse for my conversation with him. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that Taylor was going to be my calculus tutor. “He and I have a project we need to work on together for class. We’re going to meet tomorrow to talk about it during my free period.”

  “What class are you and Taylor in together?” Kristin asked.

  “Calculus.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Taylor was going to help me with calculus, so that qualified as a project. My friends couldn’t dispute it, since none of them were taking that subject.

  “Did you know Taylor’s dad left him, his mom, and his sister years go?” Tiffany blurted. “I think he was six. I can’t imagine growing up without a father, can you?”

  “No, I can’t. It’s got to be really hard,” Kristin agreed. “I heard his mom has to work two jobs to get by. That’s why they live over in Great Oaks. They have a tiny little house, but it’s better than no house at all.”

  “Don’t gossip.” I looked around at my friends. “My cousin lives over in Great Oaks, and her place is nice enough. You can’t judge people by where they live.”

  “Get real, Whitney.” Doug crossed his arms over his varsity jacket. “Taylor is a loser. He doesn’t hang with our crowd, and he’s never at any of our parties. Whenever I see him, he’s always studying alone in the library.” He pointed toward where Taylor’s motorcycle had been parked. “Did you check out that rat bike?”

  Brett grinned. “Yeah, man. What a loser. I almost laughed when it didn’t start. I was wondering if he was going to walk it home.”

  “What’s a rat bike?” I asked.

  “It means it was pieced together with odd parts,” Doug said. “I’d be too ashamed to ride that thing.”

  “You’re so shallow, Doug.” I wondered why Kristin liked him so much. I’d never realized until that moment that he was such a jerk. I regarded Doug and Brett with disgust and then turned toward my Jeep. “I need to get home. I’ll see you all later.” I headed across the parking lot.

  As I drove home, I sent up a prayer:

  I’m so confused and stressed out. I’ve always gotten straight As in school and tutored other kids, and now my grades in calculus are so bad, I need a tutor myself. It’s embarrassing and humiliating. Please help me understand calculus so I can bring my grades up. But what I’m most confused about is my friends—my best friends since elementary school. Suddenly I don’t feel like I belong in their group anymore. I don’t really know why, but everything feels different now. Are they changing or am I? I just know I’m really confused and don’t know what to do. Please help me, God.

  chapter three

  The following afternoon I stepped into the library conference room and found Taylor scowling while sitting at the table.

  “You’re late.” His lips formed a thin line illustrating his discontentment. He was wearing an unbuttoned, well-worn, red-plaid flannel shirt with a plain black shirt underneath. “I figured you weren’t going to show up, since you said you really didn’t need my help anyway.”

  “Well, I did, and I’m here now.” I sat across from him and wondered if he was always so outspoken. “I lost track of time while I was eating lunch. I’m sorry.” I pulled out my notebook, found my infamous calculus test with the big, red D in the upper-right corner, and placed it on the table.

  “Let me see that.” Taylor picked up the test paper and examined it as if it were a specimen he was about to cut open and study. He began explaining problems and concepts, and I tuned him out while staring down at my notebook and wondering how I could blow off this tutoring session and convince Mr. Turner I didn’t need any help.

  “Whitney? Are you listening to me?” Taylor sounded irritated.

  My eyes snapped to his. “Yeah, I’m listening. I’m sorry.”

  Taylor drummed his pencil on the table and studied me, causing me to feel self-conscious and wonder if I had salad stuck in my teeth. “If I’m wasting my time here, then let me know. I can think of better things to do with an hour before I have to go to class.”

  “You’re not wasting my time or yours. Let’s just get it over and done with. I have better things to do too.” I sat up straight and studied his deep-brown eyes while he talked on about calculus concepts.

  “Did what I said make any sense at all?” His question broke through my thoughts and caught me off guard.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “So you think you could recreate this problem here and get the right answer?” He pointed toward the first problem I’d messed up on the test.

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “All right. I’d like to see you do that.” He rewrote the problem on a blank piece of paper and pushed it toward me. “Show me.”

  “Okay.” I took the pencil from him and studied the question.

  “Want me to show you how to do it again?”

  I looked up at him and wondered how a guy so gruff on the outside could have such warm and captivating eyes.

  He raised his eyebrows. “
Why are you staring at me?”

  “Why do you tutor?” The question burst from my lips before I could stop it. Why was I so blunt when I was around Taylor? His outspokenness seemed like a highly contagious disease.

  “Why do you tutor?” He bumped the question back to me as if it were a volleyball.

  “How did you know I was a tutor?”

  His smile was wry. “I’ve seen you at the peer mentoring meetings. I guess you didn’t notice me because I don’t wear a varsity football jacket.”

  I blanched. “Not all of my friends are into sports.”

  “And none of them live on my side of town either.” His expression challenged me to prove him wrong.

  “That’s not true. I know someone who lives in Great Oaks.”

  “Yeah. Sure you do, Whitney.” He averted his gaze by looking down at the test again, and I wondered why he was so cantankerous. “Back to work.”

  “You never answered my question.” I planted my hands on my notebook. “Why do you tutor?”

  “Why do I tutor?” He rubbed his chin as if considering the question in great depth. “Let’s just say not everyone has a college education handed to them on a silver platter. I have to earn the privilege of going to college through activities and good grades. Without a scholarship, I’ll be working the fryer at Burger World, and I would rather put my math abilities to better use.”

  “Are you saying I have everything handed to me on a silver platter?” I challenged his harsh remark.

  “I didn’t mean that.” He shrugged. “I just meant some kids have it easier than others. Did you get to choose which college you wanted to apply to without worrying about the cost?”

  I paused, not knowing how to answer. The truth was my mother was more worried about prestige than cost when it came to choosing a college. She only let me apply to the local university and State because I begged until my dad finally allowed it.

  “Since you can’t answer the question, I would imagine you can go to any college you want to, since you get awesome grades, have participated in all of the right activities, and your father makes a lot of money.”

  I tapped the table for emphasis. “Let’s just say I don’t have as much choice as you think I do.”

  “You have more choices than I do. Right now I’m thankful I got a full scholarship.”

  “You did?” I smiled widely. “That’s awesome, Taylor. Which school are you going to?”

  “I got a full ride to U.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronize me, Whitney.”

  “I’m not patronizing you. I think it’s awesome.” I felt a twinge of jealousy nip at me. University, or U as everyone called it, was where Emily planned to go, and it was where I wanted to go, since it had a fantastic teaching program. But my mother was insisting on Kentwood, so I had no choice in the matter. “Why can’t you just accept a compliment?”

  His expression softened a fraction. I wondered if he ever smiled, or if he was this frosty all the time. “I’m just glad I get to go to college.”

  “Look, Taylor, my life isn’t perfect. I’m certain you have problems, but I do too. Just because my problems are different from yours doesn’t make your life any harder than mine. Everyone has problems.” I couldn’t help but wonder why he was acting so prickly. I felt as if he was judging me because of where I lived, which was just as bad as Doug and Brett making fun of where Taylor lived. Maybe Taylor was just as socially prejudiced as they were.

  Taylor snorted. “Whitney, I doubt you have any idea what it truly means to struggle in life.”

  Speechless, I stared at him. Why does he have such a big chip on his shoulder?

  “Enough chitchat. Back to work.” Taylor looked at his watch and then pointed toward the paper in front of me. “We don’t have much time. I’d like to eat lunch before my next class. Let’s see if you can figure that one out.”

  “Okay.” I started writing down what I thought was the right answer to the problem.

  “Actually, you’re closer, but that’s still not the answer.”

  I slumped in my chair and folded my arms over my chest.

  “You’ll get it. I promise you. I’m a good tutor.” He pulled out another blank piece of paper from his notebook and began to write. Mr. Turner was right when he said Taylor was a genius, but he was an arrogant one.

  He continued to discuss concepts, and I watched him, wishing I could understand the subject like he did. Why didn’t calculus come as easy to me as history, science, Spanish, and English did? I couldn’t comprehend why I was struggling so much. It was so unlike me to feel lost when it came to school.

  Soon the bell rang, and I gathered up my notebook. “Thanks.”

  “So much for eating lunch today.” He packed up his supplies. “Same time next week?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder and moved through the door.

  I spent all of Spanish class wondering why Taylor had been so defensive with me. Did he truly believe I was a snob who would never acknowledge him? If so, then he didn’t know me at all.

  While Señora Zoch prattled on about the Spanish novel we were studying, I propped by elbow on the desk and rested my chin on the palm of my hand as I considered the thought. Could Taylor possibly be right about me? Was I a snob because I hadn’t noticed him at the peer mentoring meetings? The question wouldn’t let me go. I’d always tried my best to be a true Christian in every sense of the word. I knew I wasn’t perfect. I tried not to be the stereotypical cheerleader in the movies who thought she was better than everyone else and didn’t acknowledge students who weren’t a part of her exclusive group. So then why did Taylor accuse me of blowing him off and being a snob? The accusation stung me, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

  Señora Zoch moved on to our homework assignment, and I pulled out my notebook. I flipped to the problem we’d discussed during the tutoring session, and my eyes focused on Taylor’s handwriting. I couldn’t possibly learn anything if I spent the entire tutoring session wondering exactly why Taylor didn’t like me. I had to find a new tutor. And there was only one way to get a new tutor—I needed to convince Mr. Turner that Taylor and I weren’t the best match when it came to learning.

  The bell rang, announcing the end of the school day, and I hurried down the hallway toward Mr. Turner’s room. I stepped into the room and found him clearing his desk.

  “Hey, Mr. Turner.” I fingered my notebook in my hands. “Can I ask you a quick question?”

  “Sure, Whitney. What’s going on?” He stood.

  I wracked my brain for a reason to find a new tutor. How could I possibly admit I felt uncomfortable working with someone who accused me of being a snob? “I was wondering if there’s another tutor available to help me with calculus.”

  “Oh.” Mr. Turner swiped his glasses from his face. “Taylor is the only calculus tutor we have. Isn’t it working out with him?”

  “It’s working out fine.” I hoped my voice sounded upbeat. “He’s really smart.” Why was I such a chicken? Why couldn’t I admit Taylor made me feel uncomfortable?

  “So, then, why do you want to find another tutor?” He picked up a briefcase and began to fill it with papers.

  “I guess it’s sort of a personality thing.” I tried to smile and act causal even though I was humiliated. “I don’t think he likes me.”

  Mr. Turner looked as if he was holding back a laugh. “I find that hard to believe.” He closed the briefcase. “You said you didn’t want any help. Just complete a few sessions with Taylor, and then you’ll be ready for the next test.”

  “Right.”

  “Have a good evening, Whitney.” He lifted the briefcase. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I made my way out to the parking lot wondering how I was going to get through the future tutoring sessions. Maybe if I was as sweet as sugar to Taylor, he would be nice to me. Grandma always said I should kill people with kindness. Perhaps Taylor was the kind of person she was referring to when she’d shared that advice.
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  I found my friends standing in the usual spot by the tree, and I sidled up to them.

  “Hey, Whitney,” Tiffany said as I approached. “How was your afternoon?”

  “Good.” I nodded. “Yours?”

  “I have a ton of homework,” Tiffany said. “I should’ve been reading that stupid book all along. The test is Friday, and I’m totally unprepared. I can’t stand English. What’s the point in reading old books anyway?”

  I bit my lip to stop my smile. Tiffany would tease me if I told her I loved the classics almost as much as I loved contemporary fiction.

  “I know what you mean.” Kristin examined her fingernails. “I need to study for a Spanish exam, but I totally need to get a manicure.” She looked at her watch. “I wonder if I run to the mall right now if I can get my nails done before I start studying.”

  I shook my head. If my friends worked harder at school, they too could be on the honor roll. The roar of an engine drew our eyes toward the parking space where Taylor straddled his motorcycle.

  “That reminds me.” Kristin turned toward me. “I meant to ask you how your project is going with Taylor.”

  I shrugged while watching Taylor secure his helmet. “It’s going fine.”

  Tiffany grinned. “He’s kind of hot on the back of that motorcycle, huh?”

  Taylor sped through the parking lot, and I watched him until he disappeared around the corner. Yeah, he’s good looking, but he’s a tad bit abrasive.

  “Definitely eye candy.” Kristin smiled.

  Tiffany looked at Kristin. “So, are you going to the mall to get your nails done? I’ll come with you. I need a fill really bad.”

  I spotted Spencer, Doug, Brett, and my other ex-boyfriend, Chad, approach, and I groaned. “I have to go. See you tomorrow.”