Kristin climbed into my Jeep Monday morning and slammed the door with emphasis. “What’s going on with you? I’ve been worried about you. You never answered my texts all weekend.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was really sick until last night, and I didn’t look at my phone after I texted you and Tiff.” I backed out of her driveway and steered through the neighborhood, hoping I sounded convincing. I’d texted Kristin and Tiffany Saturday afternoon and told them I was suffering from stomach flu, and then I’d avoided their text messages the rest of the weekend. While pretending to be sick, I’d spent all weekend studying calculus and trying my hardest to make sense out of the confusing concepts.
“How are you feeling now?” She turned to me looking concerned.
“Fine.” I kept my eyes on the road ahead. Avoiding eye contact was my best option for seeming genuine. “It was a twenty-four-hour thing, so I’m all better now. Tell me about the party.”
“You missed the most awesome party Saturday night.” She sat up straight in the seat as if to brace herself for quite a story. “It turns out Monica Barnes and Paul Jefferson have been cheating on each other. It all came to a head in the middle of Tiffany’s family room around midnight.”
Kristin launched into a complicated story I didn’t really care to hear while we drove through Castleton and merged onto the main road.
“It was quite a scene,” Kristin said, concluding the story. “Monica left in a huff, and Paul tried to stop her.”
“Wow.” I felt her eyes studying me, and I cleared my throat. “It sounds like they put on a show.”
“Were you really sick?”
I gave her a sideways glance. “Why would you ask that?”
“Well …” Kristin touched my shoulder. “Brett told us you broke up on Friday. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there for you.”
“Oh. That.” I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I think it was sort of a mutual thing even though he initiated it.” And I was telling her the truth. I’d awakened Saturday completely fine. The hurt was gone and replaced with relief. I no longer felt obligated to be his girlfriend, and I wasn’t worried about how the breakup would affect our clique. Instead, I was more focused on calculus and worried about ruining my nearly-perfect GPA.
Kristin looked unconvinced. “I thought you guys were happy.”
Is she serious? I bit back a sarcastic remark. “I think we were just sort of biding our time until graduation.”
“I just wish you’d told me. You didn’t have to stay home from the party because of being embarrassed. I mean, everyone goes through a breakup now and then. We could’ve drowned your sorrows in chocolate together.”
“I’m doing okay. Really, I am.”
She studied me again. “So you really were sick over the weekend?”
“Yeah.” Sick of calculus. “But I’m fine now.”
“Oh, good. Well, let me tell you more about the party. Tiffany looked spectacular. She and Spencer are so happy.” Her expression transformed into a scowl. “But things won’t be the same now that you and Brett broke up. We won’t be able to do things together as couples. Tiffany and I were talking about that Saturday night. We’re going to really miss that.”
“It’s okay. Really, it is.” I found myself consoling her over my breakup, and it was weird. It was even stranger that I was over the heartbreak. Yet my friends seemed more upset about the fact that Brett and I seemed like the perfect couple than the fact that my heart was supposedly crushed. I pondered that notion while Kristin kept talking.
“I wish the three of us could be happy with our boyfriends again, but you’ll find someone before prom, Whitney. I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure of it too.” I shook my head, thinking that there was definitely more to life than finding my true love at the age of eighteen.
Kristin talked on about the party while I drove the rest of the way to school. I parked in my usual spot near the front of the lot, and then we made our way toward a group of friends waiting by the door. I greeted my friends and made small talk about the weekend. When the bell rang, I went over the speech I’d prepared for calculus class. I was determined to prove to Mr. Turner and my mom that I didn’t need a tutor. I could pass calculus with flying colors on my own.
Mr. Turner was in the middle of explaining our homework when the bell rang at the end of calculus. “Whitney,” he said, making eye contact with me. “Please stay so I can talk to you for a few minutes.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the curious stares around me.
While the other students filed out of the classroom, I lingered behind, pretending to organize my books in my backpack. After the last student left, I made my way through the sea of desks to Mr. Turner’s at the front of the room.
“You wanted to talk to me.” I fingered the zipper on my CHS cheer Windbreaker, hoping to appear more confident than I felt.
“Whitney.” Mr. Turner pulled off his glasses and gave me an overly sweet and encouraging expression. “Your mother called Mrs. Jenkins to say she was very upset when she received your progress report.”
“I know.” I closed my hand around the strap on my backpack. “Believe me, I know.”
“Mrs. Jenkins asked that we find you a tutor.” He pointed at me with his glasses. “I have a fantastic tutor in mind. He’s all but taught my classes. I’m certain the kid is a genius. I know he can—”
“Wait.” I held up my hand. “Excuse me for interrupting, but I have a better idea. I studied all weekend long, and I think I can retake the test and do better. You know I always work hard. If you just let me retake the unit test and do some extra credit, I’m certain I can get at least a B.”
Mr. Turner’s expression clouded, and my hope sank. “Whitney, I’m sorry. There are plenty of kids struggling, and I can’t give you any special privileges.”
“Oh, no, no. I didn’t mean I wanted special privileges or an advantage.” Heat crept up from the base of my neck, and my mind raced. Why couldn’t I remember the speech I’d prepared? I babbled, saying anything that came to mind. “I know I can do better. I just need more time. I promise I’ll study extra hard. I know I can do this on my own, Mr. Turner. I know I can.”
“I think the tutor will give you the extra help you need. He’s good. I’ve recommended him to a few of my other students, and they quickly brought failing grades up to a C.”
“A C?” Panic surged through me. He had to be kidding me. I couldn’t bear the thought of not getting at least a B-plus!
Mr. Turner chuckled. “Not everyone gets As all the time, Whitney. Every once in a while you might struggle a bit, but that’s a part of life.” He put his glasses back on and picked up a notepad and pen. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Jenkins today and arrange for a tutor to start this week. I think a session once a week would work for you. Once you get the concepts down, you’ll be fine. I’ll have it all set up by tomorrow, and the tutor will contact you.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I started toward the door, and my shoulders hunched as I accepted my fate. Maybe just one session would work for me. I’d pass the next test, and everything would be just fine.
After school I stood in the parking lot flanked by Tiffany, Kristin, Doug, and Spencer. I greeted a few students who walked by, and they responded with waves. Although I was standing with my best friends, I felt out of place without Brett by my side until I remembered I wasn’t dating him anymore. I didn’t exactly miss being his girlfriend, but I suddenly felt like I didn’t belong.
“So, how about a movie tonight, Kristin?” Tiffany elbowed Kristin in her side. “Spencer and I are going, and we’d love you and Doug to join us.” She glanced toward me. “Oh, and you can come too, Whitney.”
“Thanks, but I can’t. I have a ton of homework.” Not only did I dread being a fifth wheel, but I also could never admit I was grounded for a bad grade. My friends used to call me Whitney “Ruin the Curve” Richards. I couldn’t stand the humiliation if they started calling me Whitney “Progress Report” Richards instead.
“You study too much.” Spencer stood behind Tiffany, wound his arms around her waist, and pulled her to his chest. “All work and no play makes Whitney a dull girl.”
I glared at him. “You expect me to listen to advice from a straight-C student?”
“Burn!” Doug laughed and punched Spencer in the shoulder. “She got you, Spence!”
Brett jogged up to the group and grinned at his fellow football players. “What’s so funny?”
Although I felt like a fifth wheel without Brett, I didn’t want to hang out with him either. I waved and stepped away from the group. “I have to go. See you all tomorrow.”
“Wait.” Brett jammed his hands in his pockets. “You don’t need to go because of me. We’re still friends, right?”
I forced my sweetest smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, Brett. I’m leaving because I have to go, not because of you.”
“Wow. She’s on a roll, huh? She told Spencer off, and now Brett.” Doug looped his arm around Kristin’s shoulders. “You’re getting mouthy, Whitney. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder. “I just need to get home. That’s all. I have to study for a …”
“Whitney!” a voice called from behind me.
I turned and spotted Taylor Martinez waving toward me as he stood near the bike rack.
“Is Martinez talking to you?” Kristin asked.
“I don’t know.” I studied Taylor, and he waved again.
“Yes, I’m calling you, Whitney Richards,” Taylor said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“What does Taylor Martinez want with you?” Brett sneered. “Charity?”
“Hey,” I snapped at Brett. “That’s not funny and not cool.”
Doug snickered, and I swallowed the urge to yell at him as I walked toward Taylor, who was dressed in tight blue jeans and a faded-green army jacket that reminded me of one my uncle Brad said he bought at Goodwill. Taylor lifted a helmet off the motorcycle behind him.
As I approached him, I wondered how he had gotten so tall. I’d know Taylor since kindergarten when I was the tallest kid in the class. In fact, I was the tallest student until middle school. However, I hadn’t noticed that Taylor had shot up in height and was now a few inches taller than I was. My eyes were drawn to his face, which had transformed from a chubby elementary student’s face to a thin young man’s face. I’d never before noted that he had a pouty mouth, with full lips, or that his hair was so thick, dark, and curly.
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.