“Write down your given,” Brad says, banging pretend drumsticks along with the music coming out of his speakers. We’re sitting on the floor with our backs against his bed.
I write down my given, then stare at the geometry proof, unsure of what to do next.
“What’s the definition of a parallelogram?” he asks.
“Um … give me a second.” I scan the glossary at the back of the book and find it. “A four-sided flat shape with straight sides where opposite sides are equal in length and opposite angles are equal.”
“So, what do you need to prove here?”
“Well, I’m given that the opposite sides are equal in length, so I guess I need to prove the opposite angles are equal?”
“Exactly.”
I raise my pencil, ready to do just that, but then realize I don’t know how.
“Search for congruent figures,” he says without even looking at me. He tells me that at least twenty times during each tutoring session. Apparently, geometry is all about finding identical figures.
“It’s just one shape,” I complain. “How can it be congruent?”
“It can’t. Think about it.”
My brain hurts. These sessions over the last few weeks have been good for me, and my grade has gone from a D to a C, but it’s been painful. I don’t know what it is, but my mind does not process geometry. At all.
He grabs my book from me and flips to an earlier problem. He points to it and then lowers the book back on my lap. Along the way, his arm ends up between us, resting against my hip. It’s not like he’s trying to cop a feel. It’s just the innocent placement of his arm between us, and the back of his hand happens to touch my hip.
I try to focus back on the problem, but it’s impossible. My eyes are drawn to his hand.
My brain knows it means nothing. So why does my stomach suddenly feel like it’s full of butterflies trying to bust their way out?
I glance back to my book, figuring he’ll move his arm once he realizes, but he doesn’t. It just sits there, burning a hole through my jeans.
I swallow, take a deep breath, and try to focus on the problem before me. “So, I need to draw in a line to make two triangles?” I ask, finally remembering what we did for the earlier problem.
“Yep.”
I do it, but then stare at the problem again. His closeness is making it even harder than normal to concentrate.
After a moment, he says, “This is exactly like the other problem.”
“Right,” I say, glancing down at his arm again, which still hasn’t moved.
What is wrong with me? I cannot react to him like this. Besides, as nice as he is to me, he would never be interested in me. We’re totally different people. Incongruent figures, really.
Oh my God.
I’m using geometry humor. What has happened to me? I giggle without even thinking.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
Crap. Was that out loud?
“Geometry’s funny,” I say, tapping my pencil on the book, not really wanting to get into the details with him.
“No, it’s not.”
I smile. “I made a weird geometry observation. That’s all.”
“Care to share?”
“Not really.”
“Come on. I love a good math joke.”
“It’s not really a joke,” I say with a shrug. “I was just thinking about congruency and how … incongruent the two of us are.”
He frowns. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You’re a straight-A student, an athlete, have the best parents ever, will be invited to college with open arms, and I’m … none of those.”
“Okay, so maybe we’re incongruent, but I wouldn’t say we’re incompatible. Sometimes congruency is overrated. Congruency is boring. Incongruency makes things interesting.”
“Like the whole opposites attract thing?” I say with a smile, then catch myself. “That’s not what I meant,” I continue as my face heats up. “I’m—”
“Brad! Hailey!” Adam yells, leaping into the room. “Come downstairs—we’re all here.”
Thank God. I jump up and away from Brad.
“Hey, Adam, you’re early,” Brad says, standing.
“Yeah, my mom was pissing me off. I had to get out of there.”
“Uh-oh. What’s going on?”
“College crap.”
“Sorry, man,” he says, patting Adam’s shoulder.
“Are the girls downstairs?” I ask.
“Yeah, Abbie’s starting the popcorn,” Adam replies.
“I’ll help her,” I say before racing through the door and away from my embarrassing words to Brad.
When I join the girls, Abbie and Brittany are talking while waiting for the microwave to ding. Michelle is sitting on the sofa, playing on her phone.
“Hey,” I say to everyone as I walk to the fridge. “Anyone want something to drink?”
“Coke,” Brittany says.
“Sprite,” says Abbie.
Michelle ignores me.
I pull out their drinks and grab a Sprite for myself.
“You have to come to our gig next Saturday,” Brittany says, looking at me.
“Where is it?”
“The Arboretum. They’re having some sort of festival. We’re on from one to two.”
“Want to go together?” Abbie asks.
“Sure, that sounds like fun.”
“Hey, Brad,” Michelle says, drawing my attention back to her. She’s forgotten about her phone and is headed toward the stairs as the guys come down.
“Hey, Michelle. Abbie. Brittany,” he says, stepping into the room.
Abbie and Brittany wave while Michelle sidles up next to him. “We got a romantic comedy today. We figured it was time for a girly movie, since we always watch explosions and aliens and all that boy stuff.”
“Fine by me,” he says, stepping around her to grab a Gatorade from the fridge.
Beeping from the microwave pulls me back to the kitchen area. Abbie pulls out the steaming bag and pours it into a huge bowl already halfway filled with popcorn, then we all take our seats.
I sit on the end like usual with Brittany right next to me. Abbie is between her and Adam. Brad and Michelle continue standing, rather than taking their normal spot at the end.
“Hey, Brittany,” Adam says, “want to share some Junior Mints?”
“I’ll get them for you,” Brad offers, heading back to the kitchenette. He returns with not only those but also Sno-Caps, my favorite.
After Brad tosses the Junior Mints to Adam, Brittany gets up and sits next to him. “Are you trying to get lucky tonight?” she asks with a sideways glance.
“Do Junior Mints hold that much power over you?” Adam asks, handing her the box.
She smiles and accepts it. “In your dreams, buddy.”
While I’m watching the two of them, Brad plops himself down right next to me, his leg touching mine. His freaking leg pushed up against me from hip to ankle. If I thought his arm was bad during tutoring, this is a thousand time worse. The pressure of his hard muscles, muscles I shouldn’t even be thinking about, is like a gigantic fluorescent billboard. It commands all my attention, and the more I try to ignore it, the more noticeable it becomes.
“Sno-Cap?” he asks, holding the opened box between us.
I take it and pour a couple pieces of candy into my hand. He’s not fazed at all. Of course not. He’s not the least bit attracted to me, so he probably doesn’t even notice the contact.
After handing the box back to him, I curl my legs under my body and scoot to the very edge of the sofa, practically on top of the armrest. It’s uncomfortable, but at least it puts a few inches between us.
A loud huff draws my attention back to Michelle, who is still standing in the middle of the room. She shoots me an evil glare, then lowers herself next to Abbie, who holds out the bowl of popcorn. Stuffing kernel after kernel into her mouth, she stares at the television.
Great. She’ll probably take her evilness to a whole new level now.
While chewing on a Sno-Cap, I try to focus on the drama of the movie and not the drama going on right around me. I have no idea what’s up with Michelle and Brad, but I’d prefer to stay out of it. Maybe I should have Abbie remind Michelle how Brad and I are foster siblings and nothing more. Maybe it’s all a simple misunderstanding that’s leading to her nasty attitude.
Although a misunderstanding would be nice, I kind of doubt that’s the problem. Michelle hasn’t liked me from the minute we met, and at this point, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change that.
As I pop another piece of candy in my mouth, I think about my options for dealing with her. I could dish it right back at her, but there’s no way I could ever be as mean as her. I think you’re either born with the mean gene or not. She was; I wasn’t.
Really, my only other choice is to ignore her. From now on, I need to completely ignore everything she says and does.
And that’s exactly what I do for the rest of the movie. I ignore both Michelle’s attitude and Brad’s closeness, Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done, especially ignoring Brad.