by Amy Sparling
“Hey.” I hate that he’s giving me that cute smile when we’re supposed to just be friends. It makes me think of those few days when I thought I had a crush on him.
“Just came by to wish you good luck on your history exam.”
“My what?” I come to a dead stop in the middle of the hallway. “Is that today?”
His hand slides down the strap of his messenger bag and he nods. “You have Mrs. Lapin fifth period, right? She’s giving the exam to all of her senior classes today.”
I sigh and toss my head back, muttering a curse under my breath as I stare at the ceiling. “I completely forgot. I was supposed to study this weekend.”
Jonah’s lips slide to the side of his mouth, and I can practically hear his thoughts about how if I’d just been at tutorials last week we could have studied for it. “I can study with you at lunch, if you’d like.”
“Really?” The flash of excitement I get is quickly overshadowed by my history with Jonah. “Wait, I can’t make you sacrifice your lunch for me.”
“Sure you can,” he says with a shrug. “Plus, I’m offering. I don’t mind.”
“What about your girlfriend?”
“Tutoring comes first,” he says, glancing down the hallway instead of looking at me. “If you fail this test, it looks bad on me so I’m really doing this for myself too, if it makes you feel better.”
“That does make me feel better.” I don’t really hear the words I’m saying because I’m struggling against the pain my chest. Jonah’s reply is not what I wanted to hear. I wanted him to say something like, “Girlfriend? What girlfriend? The only girl I care about is you.”
But that stuff only happens in fantasy worlds, I guess.
“Thanks,” I say, trying to smile. “Let’s meet at lunch.”
“Meet me by the recycling?” he says, glancing at me quickly before looking down at his phone, even though the screen is off.
“Sure thing.”
I do my best to pay attention in math, chemistry, and English classes because I know I’ll get to study for the history exam during lunch. Now that I’ve been actually working on my grades, it turns out paying attention to the lesson as it’s taught is much easier for me. I actually understand what’s going on now that I’m somewhat caught up in class. Still, that lingering exam in History class is nagging at me and I wish I’d remembered to study for it this past weekend.
Anger replaces my regret and I could kick myself for wasting so much precious time thinking about Caleb. I think it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t even like me that much. If anyone else had told me that a guy treated them so pathetically on their first date, I would tell her to leave him. Yet here I am, still wishing he’d text me.
Why am I so pathetic? I shove down the feelings that I’m still not over my little crush on Jonah and that it’s making me focus on Caleb too much. I miss the days when I didn’t really care about any guy. When my life was composed of worrying about the store and skipping school.
At lunch, Jonah is waiting for me at the recycle bins that are next to the doors to the cafeteria. I’ve already texted April to tell her I won’t be in lunch, but I still feel slightly bad about ditching her.
“I secured a study room for us,” Jonah says, flashing me a grin as he walks out of the cafeteria. “Mr. Hawkins said the room across from his is empty so it’s all ours for the day.”
“Can I come here every day during lunch?” I say, thinking how great it would be to avoid looking over at other tables and seeing people I don’t want to see, like Jonah’s girlfriend.
“Doubt it,” he says, oblivious to my thoughts.
The classroom is empty except for rows of desks. We sit at the back and Jonah pulls his desk toward mine so that we’re facing each other. “I’ll quiz you,” he says, pulling out his history textbook and opening it to the chapter about the Civil War.
I’m trying to decide if Jonah has suddenly gotten cuter or if I’m just used to his nerdy polo shirt and khakis by now. In a way, it’s almost sexy how he doesn’t care if he’s dressed like a middle aged businessman instead of a teenage boy. My thoughts float back to seeing him on the beach, shirtless in flipflops. He looked like his age there. My cheeks redden.
Jonah asks another history question and I answer it, my voice a little raspy. I clear my throat and tell myself to stop thinking about what he looks like without his shirt on. This history exam is important. I have to focus.
“This was fun,” I say as the lunch period is almost over. “I missed studying with you last week.”
“I missed you too,” he says, closing up his textbook and putting it in his messenger bag. My eyes widen. Did he mean to say those exact words—he missed me—or did he mean he missed our studying?
“Look, Jonah…” I swallow the lump in my throat and take courage from the fact that we’re all alone in here. “I’m really sorry about that day…when you heard April talking about you…”
His bottom lip pulls under his teeth and he looks at the desk. “It’s fine, Nat.”
“No…it’s not… I mean, I don’t know what all you heard, but—” I take a deep breath even though my cheeks are burning and I feel like an asshole and this is so embarrassing. Jonah is a good guy and I can’t stand the thought of him going around life thinking he’s a nerd, or someone unattractive. I have to make this right. I look up at him and he’s watching me, a curious expression on his face.
“When we first started tutoring together I was just mad about it. I didn’t want a tutor and I didn’t want to go, so I bitched about it to April. I called you some unflattering names, but I would have said that about anyone because I was mad about the tutoring.”
He watches me, his expression softening. I continue, “So then we were talking about you, and I was saying you’re not so bad and she repeated what I’d called you, and that’s the part you overheard. But it’s not true, Jonah. I didn’t mean it. You could have been any other student tutor and I would have said the same thing.”
I can’t bring myself to say the word nerd, so I dance around it. “I’m so sorry, Jonah.”
He stares at his fingers for a moment, pressing them to the desk. “It’s fine, Natalie. You don’t have to explain.”
“But I do. I have to apologize. I don’t want you thinking you’re anything less than amazing, because you are.”
His lips turn up a little in the corners. “Thanks,” he says, meeting my eyes. “I broke up with Lara, by the way.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Ex.” He shrugs. “She’s kind of a bitch. After we talked that day at the beach, I got to thinking that I’d rather just be alone than be with someone like her.”
I realize I’m smiling in this huge, giddy way, and I quickly make my face go back to normal. “That’s good. I’m proud of you. You deserve so much better than her.”
“Hopefully,” he says. The bell rings and he stands. “Good luck on your test. I think you’re going to do great.”
It feels like a ton of weight has been lifted from our friendship now that we’ve gotten this talk over with. I’m happy Jonah ditched that girl and I’m glad I got to apologize for calling him a nerd. I can’t believe it, but I’m actually looking forward to tutoring this week.
“Walk me to history class?” I say as we leave the empty classroom. “You can quiz me all the way there.”
He grins and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’d love to.”
Chapter 18
Mrs. Lapin reuses the same tests from class to class, so instead of letting us write on them, she has us number one through thirty on a piece of our own paper and then we fill in our multiple choice answer. The cool thing about this way of testing is that she can grade our tests instantly by putting our answer sheet up against her master key.
The bad thing? She can grade it instantly.
I walk up to her desk to turn in my exam and she smiles at me, then puts my paper next to her answer key. I want to turn around and run back to my desk as fast as my legs will take me
, but most kids stand around and wait to see their grade. I force my feet to stay planted near her desk and I wince when she marks one wrong right at the start. A few seconds go by and she makes another x and then another. I look away, focusing on the date she’s written on the dry erase board.
“Not bad,” she says a few seconds later. She hands my paper back and I look down, seeing my grade written in red pen and circled at the top right corner.
Relief washes over me. An eighty-nine. That’s not failing. In fact, that’s almost an A. I can’t help but grin as I take my paper back to my desk. The last minute studying paid off.
I snap a photo of my grade and text it to Jonah.
Me: I couldn’t have done this without you!
He responds by sending about fifty smiling face emojis. For the first time since I was a young and stupid high school freshman, college feels like it might actually be attainable. And I owe it all to my ex step-dad’s new wife who forced me to get tutored. Go figure.
***
Jonah slaps something on my hand when I walk into tutorials on Tuesday afternoon. I look down and see it’s a pink sparkly sticker of a unicorn that takes up almost my entire hand.
“Are you a big fan of unicorns?” I say as I sit next to him at our usual table.
“My little sister loves them,” he says, pulling out his notebook. “My parents give her a sticker to celebrate any accomplishment she does.”
I hold my arm up to examine the sticker. “So why are you giving me one?”
“She said you should get one for your fantastic grade on the history test.”
I give him a curious look and his cheeks flush a deep and glorious shade of red. “You told your little sister about my grade?” I ask, leaning forward. “When would that ever come up in normal conversation?”
He rolls his eyes but I can tell he’s embarrassed and trying to play it off. “My parents asked about the students I tutor, and I told them one did really good on her test. My sister overheard, and well…” He gestures to the sticker on the back of my hand. “That’s from her.”
I hold out my hand and let the sticker sparkle under the library lights. “Tell her thank you. I love it.”
“You earned it,” he says with a laugh. “Now let’s get to business.”
As much as I want to argue and try to blow off studying, I don’t. Jonah has proven to be a great tutor so far and I’m actually getting excited about seeing all my grades go up. We do my homework and study for my upcoming math test. With fifteen minutes left of tutorials, I start in on some extra credit worksheets. I finish the second one when I remember what these things mean.
“Can I still ask a question?” I ask, placing the completed worksheet on top of his notebook. “One question per worksheet?”
“What more could you possibly want to know about me?” Jonah asks, tilting his head while he looks over my paper.
I shrug. “You’re still a mystery, Jonah.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” I say, sitting straighter. “Have you ever kissed a girl on a date and then gone four days without texting her?”
“That’s oddly specific,” he says, furrowing his brow.
“Answer the question.”
He finishes scanning my answers on the worksheet and puts it at the bottom of the stack. “No. I only kiss girls I’m dating, and if I’m dating a girl then I don’t go that long without talking to her.”
I rest my chin in my hand while I watch him. “So…if you ask a girl on a date but then you bring your friends with you to the date, is it still considered a date?”
“One question per worksheet,” he says.
I shove the second paper at him. “I did two already.”
“Natalie…” he says with a sigh. “I agreed to answer questions about myself, not to give you covert dating advice.”
“I am asking about you. Would you consider that a date?”
He contemplates it for a moment. “Maybe. But not really. A date is something intimate.”
I open my mouth to say more, but he points at the stack of papers. “One question per paper.”
I blow a raspberry at him and get back to work, flipping through the pages until I find one with only four questions. Jonah’s phone buzzes and he texts back to whoever texted him. It takes a lot of willpower on my end not to ask who he’s talking to, because I know he’ll try to count that as my question for this worksheet.
When I’m finished, I hand it to him. “What did you mean the other day at lunch when you said you think you hopefully deserve better than Lara?”
He stares at the worksheet while he thinks about it. “It means I think I deserve better than the kind of girls I’ve dated lately,” he says after a moment. I stare at him until he gives me more information. “I’m not an asshole, okay? I’m a good person. I’m nice. I don’t cheat on girls or have random hookups that don’t mean anything. I don’t think it’s too much to want a girl to be nice to me in return, you know?”
I nod, thinking that’s all I’ll get out of him, but now he’s looking off in the distance, his thoughts clearly focusing on the topic at hand. “I just…I’m not some popular jock and I’m not the most jacked manly man ever, but that doesn’t mean I should settle for someone who treats me like shit. So I said I hopefully deserve better, because I think I do. I don’t mean to sound arrogant, it’s just—” He sighs.
“I know what you mean,” I say, finding the words he can’t seem to say. “You are a good guy. You do deserve better than your ex-girlfriend. There’s nothing wrong in admitting that.”
“You should take some of your own advice,” he says, poking me in the arm with his pen.
I lift an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“A guy kissed you then didn’t text you for four days?” He shakes his head. “Ditch that asshole. He’s not worth it.”
“That was a hypothetical,” I say quickly. “Totally not real.”
His lips flatten as he looks at me and I know he’s not buying it.
The librarian clears her throat and I realize she’s looking at us. “Tutorials and detention are over,” she says with an exhausted wave of her hand. “Time to get out of here. You’re the last ones left.”
“Shit,” I say, looking down at our table filled with papers and books. We totally talked past the bell that dismissed us from tutorials. Jonah and I gather up our stuff. The last thing he grabs is his notebook, which is opened to my page.
“Hey,” he says, tilting it toward me. “Today marks our one month of tutoring completed.” He grins in this boyish way, like he’s truly proud of the accomplishment. “Only one month left.”
“That’s definitely cooler than talking about my dating failures,” I say as I sling my backpack over my shoulder.
“I thought you were speaking in hypotheticals,” he says as he walks toward the parking lot.
I smirk. “Shut up.”
As we reach the glass doors that lead into the parking lot, it’s clear today’s weather has taken a turn from sunny and pretty to ugly and gross.
“Ughhh,” I say as we watch the dark clouds light up with a streak of lightning. Thunder cracks and the leaves on nearby trees blow. “There’s no way I can walk home before it starts raining.” I pull out my phone and unlock the screen. “Hopefully there’s no customers at the store so Mom can come get me real fast.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Jonah says. His car keys are already in his hand and he gives them a shake. “My car is totally rainproof inside.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a dork.”
“A dork with a car.” He pushes open the door and holds it for me to walk outside. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
“I can’t bum a ride off you,” I say as I reluctantly step outside into the cool windy air. “I’ll just jog home and maybe I’ll beat the rain.”
“Absolutely not.” Jonah hooks his arm through mine and tugs me along. “I’m happy to give you a ride. Actually…” he turns to me, loo
king down a little since he’s taller than I am. I’m so close to him I can smell his soapy skin and see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Since our arms are halfway linked, my hand reaches up on its own and grabs his bicep. He flexes it just a little when I touch him, either on purpose or on reflex.
“Actually what?” I say, realizing he never finished his sentence.
“I think we should go get frozen yogurt, if you’re up for it. It can be a celebration of being halfway through tutorials.”
I can’t think of anything better than spending more time with Jonah right now. Mom needs me at the store, but she can wait another half an hour. It’s not like we’re ever busy on Tuesdays.
“Okay,” I say with a grin. “Sounds fun.”
Jonah’s car smells like leather and Armor All. He’s a good driver who doesn’t take the turns too fast like Caleb did. He talk about school to pass the time, but I wish we’d get back to more important topics, like what kind of girl he wants to date.
We fill our own cups of yogurt and add toppings. I choose cherry flavor with dark chocolate chips and coconut shreds. Jonah gets the birthday cake flavor, saying it’s so good it doesn’t need any toppings, but then he covers it with sprinkles, brownie bites, and whipped cream anyway. When we get to the register, I set mine down and reach for my wallet.
“I’m buying,” Jonah says, handing over some money to the cashier, a tall girl who looks like she’s fed up with working here.
“What? No,” I say. “I’ll buy my own.”
He shoves my hand away. “We’re celebrating,” he says, standing straighter which makes him seem much taller. “Let me celebrate you. Please?”
“Aww,” the cashier says as her grumpy expression breaks into a smile. “That is so sweet.”
“Okay,” I say, relenting and putting my wallet back in my backpack. “Thank you.”
He grins and holds out my yogurt for me. “You’re welcome.”
We make our way to a table in the corner of the room, right next to the window that shows the darkened sky that still hasn’t opened up with rain yet. I watch Jonah as he moves his spoon around, flattening the whipped cream and then stabbing it. Now that I know Jonah for the person he is, he’s not some brainy nerd like I first assumed when I met him. He’s cute, and sweet, and he celebrates little things like halfway points in tutoring. It makes my heart beat in this crooked way, and suddenly I’m wishing I was the kind of girl that’s good enough to date a guy like Jonah.