Archer grabbed my geometry notebook and skimmed over it. It took him half a second before he started laughing. Not a quiet chuckle or anything, but a full-out, shoulder-shaking, throw-your-head-back laugh. He was laughing so loudly, the few people still sitting around in the place shot us curious looks.
I was caught off guard by how rich his laughter was. I wouldn’t mind listening to Archer Morales laugh again. I found myself wishing he’d do it more often.
“This?” Archer said with a gasp. “You’re having problems with the Pythagorean theorem?”
I crossed my arms tightly, trying to ignore the burning in my cheeks. “Not all of us are mathematical geniuses.”
“Yeah, but the Pythagorean theorem is totally middle school work,” he told me, rather haughtily. “Even you of all people can do this.”
“Hey! What do you mean, me of all people?” I demanded indignantly.
Archer ignored me, flipping to a fresh page in my notebook, beginning to scribble down numbers.
“What’re you doing?” I asked.
“I’m going to show you how to do this.”
I stared at him with wide eyes. I found it difficult to believe Archer was offering to help me. “Really?”
He rolled his eyes, making an annoyed sound. “I’m not doing this for your benefit. You butchering your math like this is giving me hives. Pythagoras is probably rolling in his grave right now.”
I didn’t particularly care for Archer’s snarky remarks, but unfortunately, it looked as if he knew what he was doing, and I needed all the extra help I could get. A little extra tutoring never hurt anyone.
It took me another good fifteen minutes before I could finally say with confidence, “So I substitute A2 and B2 with seventeen and three and then solve for C2?”
Archer threw down his pencil, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Finally! She gets it!”
“Thanks very much for your help,” I said sourly. “It’s nice to know that you’re such an altruistic tutor.”
“How is it that you can’t do simple geometry but you can throw out words like altruistic?” Archer said with a frown, pushing my homework toward me.
He had a point, I guessed, but math sucked. Anything math related made me want to curl up in a ball and cry. English was a far better subject in my opinion.
“I can’t do math because math was invented by the devil,” I said. “And I like to sleep with a dictionary under my pillow.”
Judging by the look that came over Archer’s face, he thought I was a freak. If he hadn’t already, that is.
“You’re weird,” Archer said. “Like, really weird.”
He was right. Hadn’t I just signed a contract with Death? I was weird.
It was nearing seven o’clock when I began to pack up my things to head home. Mama Rosa’s closed at seven, and Archer said he needed to help his mom close up shop.
“Thanks for helping me with my math and everything,” I said as Archer organized his stack of completed homework. “You’ve got a nice place here.”
“Sure thing,” Archer said, though he sounded less than thrilled about it.
I figured that was the best farewell I was going to get from him, so I made for the front door after thanking Regina again for the hot cocoa and treats. That was when an idea hit me, a way to hang out with Archer without having to embarrass myself with begging him to be my friend.
“I have a proposition for you,” I said, turning back to Archer when I was halfway to the door.
Archer glanced up from shoving one of his textbooks into his backpack, looking taken aback. “What kind of proposition?”
“I propose that you tutor me in geometry.”
He stared at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. “And?”
“That’s it,” I said. “I’d just really appreciate it if you tutored me in geometry. My mom will kill me if I get a C in another math class.”
I nearly failed algebra last year, even though I’d gotten tutoring three times a week and did copious amounts of extra credit work. I wasn’t eager to repeat the experience, and this seemed like the perfect excuse to get closer to Archer. Despite the small amount of time we’d actually spent together, I knew he wasn’t as standoffish and rude as he was trying to convince me he was. No big, tough guy would melt at the mention of his baby sister the way Archer did.
“And what’s in it for me if I do tutor you?” Archer said, crossing his arms over his chest.
My heart did this stupid little jump in my chest. Was he actually considering it? “My charming personality,” I said, attempting a witty smile. “My gorgeous good looks. All the steak fries you can eat.”
It could’ve been a trick of the light, or maybe just my overactive imagination going into overdrive, but I swore Archer blushed. His cheeks were a bright pink when he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he busied himself with his backpack. What could I have said that would make him blush?
“I’ll do it for the fries.”
I tried not to let out an ecstatic shout. “Fabulous!”
“Don’t look too pleased,” Archer muttered. “I really do have to help close up shop, though, so if you wouldn’t mind . . .” He jabbed a thumb at the door, a clear invitation that I needed to show myself out.
I said good night and thanked him again for his help, to which he responded with a grunt. He obviously was done talking for the night.
I left the coffee shop then, feeling just the slightest bit smug. I took the train across town and passed the journey with the rest of the homework I’d set aside in order to trudge through geometry. I was still surprised Archer had even agreed to help me, though if he was the perfectionist I was beginning to see him as, it made sense he would want to fix something as easy as geometry seemed to be for him.
I jogged on the way home to my apartment building, wishing I’d picked a heavier jacket this morning. It was unnaturally cold for this time of the year, and I didn’t like it. As I approached the apartment building, Hanson the doorman checked his watch.
“Out a bit later than usual on a weekday, aren’t you?”
“I was hanging out with a friend,” I said, and I couldn’t keep back the small smile.
“Good, good,” Hanson said with a smile of his own. “New friend?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “He even helped me finish my geometry homework.”
Hanson looked surprised at this news. I never kept my hatred of math a secret, so the fact that I wasn’t in tears over my homework was an accomplishment of epic proportions. “Well, isn’t that dandy?”
“Hanson, you have no idea.”
CHAPTER 8
Sticks and Stones—22 Days Until
You’re not eating lunch with us today, are you?”
I slammed my locker shut as I juggled the notebooks and textbooks in my arms, giving Taylor an apologetic look. It was Monday, and it was way too early for me to come up with a good response to that question.
She was leaning up against the locker beside mine, arms crossed over her sparkly designer shirt. The expression on her face was an unusual one. Her eyebrows were pinched together and she was more or less pouting, but at the same time she looked like she was almost bubbling with excitement.
“So you’re sitting with Archer again,” she said when I didn’t answer her question.
I had difficulty deciding if she was annoyed that I’d bailed on her lately, or if she was having fun at my expense. “He’s not a bad guy, Taylor,” I said tightly. “He’s actually kind of . . . nice.”
Okay, using nice as an adjective to describe Archer was a far cry from the truth, but I’d noticed over the past few days that he had these moments where he didn’t look like he wanted to slap people. I counted that as a success.
Taylor raised an eyebrow, looking disbelieving, but then she cracked a smirk and started to giggle. She kept giggling until she was breathless, making me even more confused than before.
“Is something funny?” I demanded, wondering if I should feel offe
nded or not.
“Oh, no, no, of course not,” Taylor said, waving a hand. “It’s just that you must really have it bad if you think somebody like Archer is nice.”
“Sorry?”
“C’mon, Hadley, I know you’re not this stupid.”
“What are you talking about?”
I had a sinking suspicion I knew exactly what Taylor was hinting at, but I sincerely hoped I was wrong.
“Just admit it,” Taylor huffed out, sounding exasperated. “You so like Archer.”
“What? I do not!”
I should’ve known from the beginning that this was where Taylor was headed. I ground my teeth together while she started babbling about how she couldn’t believe I would’ve actually fallen for someone like Archer Morales, her sentences interspersed with laughter.
“Look, Taylor,” I said as I shoved my things into my bag, straightening up. “I know I’m kind of all over the place right now, and I’m sorry, but I swear I’m not into Archer, okay? He’s just a . . . a . . .”
Actually, what was Archer to me? I would’ve been lying to myself if I said I didn’t feel something for Archer, because I did. But I didn’t like him like that. That wasn’t what this was about. It couldn’t be about that. It wasn’t even an option when the days were steadily ticking down against me. What I felt was concern. Possessiveness. A need to make sure Archer was alive. I was pretty sure Death did not intend for me to develop a crush, and therefore I wouldn’t.
What did that make Archer to me, then?
“Archer’s just a . . . what?” Taylor asked, looking amused.
“He’s just a guy,” I finished lamely, even though I knew he was so much more than that.
“You’ve been sure spending a lot of time with that guy lately,” Taylor said, giggling again. “I’m not sure what you see in him, but I’ve been waiting forever for you to actually show interest in someone, so I guess Morales will have to do for now.”
“Excuse me?” I blurted, caught off guard. “Just because I’m not chasing after boys doesn’t mean I—”
“Has he asked you out on a date?”
“No! We’re not—”
“Has he kissed you yet?”
“No!”
Taylor heaved a sigh as she brushed her hair over her shoulder, pretending to look all hurt. “Well, when you decide you want to tell me the truth about Archer, you know where to find me.”
“I am telling the truth!” I was at a loss to how I could steer her away from the ridiculous notion of my liking Archer. I couldn’t just spill the beans and tell her why I’d suddenly attached myself to Archer’s hip. “It’s just that I . . .”
Taylor heaved another dramatic sigh before she wandered off, immediately cracking up again. I couldn’t tell if she thought this was the funniest thing to ever happen, or if she was just trying to get a rise out of me. Probably both.
I leaned against my locker and exhaled heavily, rubbing my forehead with the heel of my palm. A part of me wanted to run after her and tell her everything that was going on, why I had no choice but to follow Archer around like a stupid, lost puppy, because it would’ve been a relief to share the burden with at least one person. And Taylor was my best friend. But even then, I didn’t think she’d believe me. I couldn’t afford to pass up any opportunity I got to spend with Archer, but I did miss sitting with the girls at lunch. And hanging out with Taylor after school. And even our Top Model marathons.
But I was down to twenty-two days now. It was bad enough not being able to pester Archer over the weekend in order to find out more about him. Two whole days, just gone. I’d debated making my way over to Mama Rosa’s Coffeehouse to see if he was there that past Saturday, but I quickly decided it would have been just a little too stalkerish. I had to draw the line somewhere. And I suspected that if I pushed Archer too far, he’d retreat back to that corner in the library and never talk to me again.
Despite my semi-argument with Taylor, one good thing did happen that morning. As soon as I forced my way through the lunch line and got my hands on some fries and a turkey sandwich, I took off sprinting through the cafeteria to find Archer.
I had news. Big news.
I tried to stop myself from squealing once I finally reached the table in the back of the cafeteria where Archer normally sat, but to no avail.
“Archer!”
I slammed my food down onto the table and tossed myself into the seat across from him.
Archer reached out to grab a handful of my fries and popped one into his mouth, giving me a sort of amused expression. “Are you that excited to see me?”
“No, don’t be stupid,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice how breathless I was. “But look.”
I grabbed my geometry test out of my bag and slapped it down so he could witness the miracle for himself.
He glanced down at the test and smirked. “A B+? You’re ecstatic about a B+?”
“Well, duh. I failed my last test.” After getting that tutoring at Mama Rosa’s and one extra session in the library earlier this week, I thought I was getting pretty good at math, if I did say so myself.
I busied myself with unwrapping my turkey sandwich and taking a bite out of it while Archer looked like he was about to start laughing again.
“Well,” he said, pushing my test toward me. “Looks like you’re not totally helpless. I must be a good teacher.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I teased. “You just got lucky.”
“Yeah, right,” he snorted. “Me? Lucky? Okay.
“You’re awfully pessimistic,” I said. “You know that?”
Archer tossed back a couple of fries, shrugging. “Most of the time, people have reasons for their actions.”
He wasn’t kidding. I had my reasons for signing that contract, and I wanted desperately to believe that they were good reasons. Archer had his reasons for killing himself in the past. And hopefully I would soon be able to get him to share those reasons with me and prevent him from following through this time.
“Right,” I agreed slowly. “But . . . look. Just two tutoring sessions, and I actually passed a geometry quiz. My sitting with you at lunch isn’t so bad, is it?”
“Yeah, maybe for your benefit.”
I kept my eyes fixed on the table as I fiddled with my sandwich wrapper. “Do I really you bother you that much?”
It wouldn’t have changed a thing if Archer said I was the bane of his existence. Whether or not he realized it, our fates were entwined until further notice. I just wanted to know the answer to that question for myself.
Archer ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Hadley, just because I—”
“Well, what do we have here? Archer Morales finally got himself a girlfriend.”
We both turned at the sound of the haughty voice breaking into our conversation. Standing beside our table was a big, brawny guy with carefully gelled hair and the most arrogant smirk a person could ever possibly make. This was Ty Ritter, JFK’s golden boy because his dad was some big relator hotshot who owned a good chunk of the Upper East Side. I’d spoken to him before—Taylor had been known to flirt with the guys that hung out with Ty—but I couldn’t imagine what he was doing, slumming it up over here. According to the rules of high school, Archer didn’t occupy the same social circle as Ty. Judging by Archer’s disgusted expression, he was well aware of who Ty was, and my guess was they’d never had a pleasant interaction.
I wondered if it had something to do with money. Students at JFK Prep either got in because they were smart or because their parents paid their way. I fell into the latter category, though my generally high grades in English and history classes tended to balance out the not-so-high grades I always got in all things mathematics. My English teacher, Miss Graham, who was possibly my favorite teacher, made being at this school enjoyable with her lively classes and tendency to throw candy at students who gave her good answers. I was always motivated by candy.
Even if I hadn’t seen the place where his family worked
, it was obvious just by the way Archer dressed that he did not come from money. The fact he wore no-brand jeans when the majority of the guys in our grade stuck with the Fifth Ave designers or ridiculously expensive vintage shops was a good indicator he was here solely based on his academic achievements. No wonder he’d snarked at me about being a rich girl. He had to work his butt off to be here, when people like me and Ty could just coast on by. I felt a little ashamed.
“Can I help you?” Archer said to Ty, sounding like he’d rather be doing anything but that.
Ty ignored Archer as he took a seat beside me, pulling my fries across the table toward him. “So we missed you at Bennett’s party last weekend, Hadley.”
“Partying isn’t really my thing,” I said, keeping my attention fixed on Archer. I wasn’t sure if he was about to deck Ty in the face or storm off in a huff. He was clearly uncomfortable, perched on the edge of his seat.
“Shame,” Ty said around a mouthful of fries. “We’re all kind of sad we haven’t seen you around lately. Taylor said it’s because you’ve been spending all your time with Morales here.”
You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought in disbelief. Ty Ritter wants to talk to Archer about me? Why did he even care? I had a sinking feeling Ty was just looking for an excuse to get under Archer’s skin.
Archer leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s hardly my fault. Take that up with her, Ritter.”
“You know, I have to hand it to you, Morales,” Ty said, now looking over at Archer. “You must be something special if you can get a girl like Hadley here. She’s not exactly in your league, bro.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” Archer said dryly. “Is there any particular reason you feel the need to share this bit of information with me, or do you just get some kick out of wasting my time?”
Ty shrugged again. “Yeah, but I also want to offer you some advice too. You know, since I’m such a nice guy and everything.”
I opened my mouth to tell Ty what I was going to do to him with the rest of my sandwich if he didn’t shut up, but the look Archer shot me made my words die in my throat.
In 27 Days Page 6
