“Wait, what?” I try to remember her saying anything about this before, but I’m coming up blank. “What eye doctor appointment?”
“It’s, uh—” She waves her hand again, sighs. “Yeah, it’s totally last minute, sorry.”
“You didn’t say anything about that before,” I remind her.
“It—got rescheduled,” she says, and picks up her bag from the floor, wincing apologetically. “I’m really sorry, Linus. I can—I mean, I guess I could drop you off at home first, it’s not a big deal, but—”
“I … guess I can go with Danny?” I say, heart hammering in my chest, not daring to actually look at him in case he just offered to be polite. But if he meant it … this is a good development, right? A bit sudden, and I wasn’t prepared for it, and I’m not sure how someone as organized as Meg can forget about an appointment, but—well. “Or I’ll walk. I can walk. I don’t mind walking.”
“I just really—they called yesterday and apparently someone had canceled, so they could fit me in earlier, and I just totally forgot—” Meg looks really sorry. Too sorry. I’m almost one hundred percent sure that she’s running out on me on purpose and while this means more time with Danny, which is what I wanted, I’m not sure how I feel about her making this decision for me.
“Are you okay?” Danny asks her, sounding concerned. “Like, is it anything urgent?”
“Oh!” She shakes her head. “No! I’m fine. It’s a routine checkup. And I may need new glasses. So I can—you know”—she gestures wildly—“drive Linus home safely in the future and all that. I don’t know yet. I’ll talk to you guys later, okay? Bye!”
And with that, she hurries from the room and I’m left standing there, not quite sure what the hell just happened.
“Uh, I guess I should get going, then,” I say, after I’ve just stood there staring for a minute. “Since I still have homework and stuff.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Danny says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to do that!”
“You don’t have to keep pointing that out! I’m offering, okay? And since your usual lift home is indisposed—”
“I really don’t mind walking,” I let him know. Because, well, I don’t. “But—uh, I mean. I’d be home quicker if I could go with you, just, if you’re sure it’s not too much of a detour—” I know I’m stammering, but I’m afraid he might have figured out as well that Meg was making up that appointment. Meg just sounded as if she was making it up. She has always been a worse liar than she cares to admit to herself. But then, Danny doesn’t really know her that well. I’m probably worrying about nothing. And, well, he did offer to drive me home. It’s all okay, I tell myself. I just wish I was better at this whole social-interaction thing. I want him to drive me home; I just don’t want to be a burden.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’d really be happy to take you home!”
“I can call my mom. Maybe she’s home by now. Or my dad.”
“If you’d prefer that, okay. But it’s really no trouble at all!”
I take a breath, put on a smile, and tell myself to stop being weird already. “Okay. Yeah. If you’re sure, that would be so nice of you. Thank you! I just feel like you keep getting stuck with me,” I admit. “I’m really sorry. I swear that I am usually way better organized than this!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just—” I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Lunch yesterday, and now this. I feel bad for taking up so much of your time constantly!”
“You’re joking, right?” he asks. “You spend several afternoons a week tutoring me when I know you probably have a million better things to do.”
“But you pay me for that!”
He lowers his eyes a little, nods. “Right. But it’s still just—really nice of you.”
“I like tutoring,” I admit.
“Well.” He takes a deep breath, lifts his head again to meet my eyes. “And I’d like to be allowed to take you home right now. Is that okay?”
I deflate a little, and I don’t really know why I should keep saying no to this. I mean, I want to have him take me home. It means I’ll get to keep talking to him, and I really can’t imagine in what universe I would ever actually say no to that. Unless there’s a universe in which I am straight and blind and someone who doesn’t like nice people.
“Yes. Okay. That’s more than okay. Thank you!”
He smiles and I go to retrieve my bag while he waits for me by the door, starts walking next to me down the by-now-deserted hallway.
“You really do enjoy the tutoring, don’t you?” he wants to know.
“I really do. Why?”
“Just.” He shrugs. “You’re good at it. You’re patient. Like, I’m never afraid to ask you stuff because I trust you won’t tell me it’s a stupid question or anything.”
“I would never do that,” I promise. “Why would I do that? If it were a stupid question, you wouldn’t be asking it. No good teacher should ever make you feel like you’re not allowed to ask if you don’t understand something!”
“I feel like that’s a really unusual attitude, though,” he says. “You’re kind of a natural at teaching. I’m really glad that Meg recommended you to me.”
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks,” I say quickly, trying not to let him see as my face falls a little. This was Meg’s idea? Well, now at least I know why he approached me. It’s not like I ever actually thought it was because he liked me, but this is … Has she been lying to me? She never mentioned this. “I … try.”
“You do more than that,” he insists. “I’ve had a lot of different math teachers over the years, and, I mean, I learned math, I got good grades. But I never really got why math was exciting or fascinating. You know? Until you started explaining it to me. I can listen to you when you talk about it. And the way you talk about it helps. You talk about it as if you actually love it.”
“Well, yes, but that’s because I do actually love it.”
“I know. And that’s awesome. And it shows when you’re trying to teach it. It makes me almost feel excited about it, too. Or at least—at least like I want to try to understand it better, because if you can be so passionate about it, it cannot be completely stupid.”
“But today, you made me feel the same way about acting,” I tell him.
He laughs. “No, that’s different. You were already excited. I just—helped. A bit.”
“That’s what I’m doing, too. I don’t see the difference.”
“Have you thought about becoming a teacher?” he asks. “I mean, obviously you can do whatever you want. And I have no doubt you could build space probes or cure cancer or become president—”
“Oh no! I do enjoy a good debate, but I couldn’t even imagine going into politics!”
“But, well, you know.” Our shoulders touch as we walk next to each other, and I can’t tell if it’s an accident or if he bumped our shoulders intentionally. “I think you have a real gift for teaching. And it seems as if you’re enjoying it!”
“I have thought about it,” I admit. “A lot. But I don’t know yet what I want to do. I know most people probably have it figured out by now, but I just—I can’t decide.”
“You still have time.”
“Not that much time!”
“Enough time.” He smiles at me. “I can help you. If you like. You can use me as a sounding board. Or we’ll act out different futures for you. Whatever you need.”
“You’re nice. But I’ll be okay. Thank you!”
“Well, if you need me, I’m here,” he says.
I don’t know what to say to that and I can feel myself blush dark red, my face burning with it, so I quickly change the subject as we exit the school building and walk across the almost-empty parking lot in the direction of his car. So even if he’s just hanging out with me for my math skills, he still always manages to make me feel kind of really good about myself. And I guess that’s worth something.
“What about you?” I want to know. “Do you know what you want to do yet?”
“Not really. I mean, yeah, in theory I’d like to be a writer. But it’s not like you can just make up your mind to be that and make it work. So, in the meantime—well, I do know that I want to go to college. And major in English because I love it. And I’ll figure out the rest.”
“I’m sure you will,” I say, and add because he has offered it first, “If you ever want to talk it out with someone, I’m here for you, too. You know that, right?”
“Thank you.” He sounds surprised but pleased all the same. “And, you know, I actually think that a lot of people our age don’t really have any of this stuff figured out yet. I think it’s a little difficult even to imagine what you want to be out in the real world when all you have ever known is school, you know? How are we supposed to know what it’s going to be like, actually doing other stuff? It’s always going to remain a bit of a surprise. So I guess taking the time to properly make up our minds is a good thing.”
“Oh, I absolutely agree,” I assure him. “It’s like—all I know for sure is that I want to do something that makes me feel like I am doing something. I mean, I want to feel like I’m contributing, you know?”
He nods. “Yes, I get that. And I like that you think of it that way. I guess that also means becoming an investment banker is not on your list of possible career choices?”
I shake my head firmly. “God, no! Absolutely not!”
He grins, gets out his keys as we finally reach his car. “You want to use your awesome math powers for good!”
That makes me laugh. “I guess you could say that.”
“I couldn’t see you as an investment banker anyway. You are far too nice for that.”
“Uh,” I say eloquently. I’m never really sure what to do with compliments like this one. Probably because I don’t get them a whole lot. “It’s like—um. There’s this episode on Star Trek: The Next Generation,” I tell him. “Sixth season, I think. It’s this thing Picard says that’s always sort of stuck with me, it’s something along the lines of ‘the most important thing in a person’s life is to feel useful.’ I’ve always really liked that. I think we all want a purpose in life, you know?”
He unlocks his car, smiles at me over the roof of it. “Your Captain Picard is right,” he tells me. “I think I like that quote!”
“It’s also why I like tutoring, I guess.” I open the passenger-side door and slide into my seat as he gets in behind the steering wheel.
“It makes you feel useful?”
“It makes me feel like I’m doing something to help someone.”
“You are,” he says, and starts the car. “Doing something to help someone, I mean. And I can absolutely assure you that you’re really good at it.”
Hanging out with Danny is definitely going to be very good for my ego. Regardless of why he is actually hanging out with me in the first place.
Chapter 33
Meg
ONCE AGAIN, THE FIRST THING I do as soon as I get home is to take my afternoon coffee upstairs (in a new mug Mom brought home for me from the museum yesterday; it says I DIG ARCHAEOLOGY on it) and boot up my computer.
The idea to fake an eye doctor appointment when Danny offered to take Linus home was a good one. And while I didn’t stick around to see if it worked, I’m confident that Danny did indeed drive Linus home. If everything went according to plan, they should be pulling up in front of his house together any second now. And hopefully they spent the entire drive talking and getting to know each other even better.
But from what I can tell after seeing them together earlier, they already do get along pretty great.
The thing is, I can’t really keep just ditching them all the time. I know it looks weird, and also I don’t want to be a bad friend to Linus. I can’t really keep putting him in these awkward situations that probably make him feel all kinds of nervous.
It would be so great if those two just had another reason to spend more time together. And I still believe that Linus taking on a more active role in the upcoming play would be a great way to accomplish that. But the problem with that idea is that I really don’t know the first thing about auditions and what’s important to know if you want a part in a play. I’m not exactly the best person to help him with this and to give him advice.
And I do know someone who might be able to provide some helpful tips, but … I can’t exactly ask her anymore, can I?
I mean, that option has been there all along, even if I have hesitated considering it for obvious reasons. I don’t really know if I want this, but on the other hand, it’s for the greater good. It’s for Linus and Danny!
Maybe my own feelings in this don’t matter. I can make them happy. Isn’t that enough to make it all worth it?
All I need to do is keep a level head and get it done. It’s not a big deal. And she may not want to talk to me anymore anyway. Who knows?
I take a deep breath and turn toward my laptop.
The fastest way to get the required information would doubtlessly be a text message or a phone call. But somehow, I can’t really do that yet. I don’t want to talk to her. I just need her help.
For the greater good.
So I open my e-mail in-box and pull up my contacts folder—I don’t remember her e-mail address, since we never really e-mailed much before. We mostly texted. And instant messaged. And spent every possible waking minute together.
But there’s a first time for everything, I guess.
So I gather all my courage and start typing: Dear Sophia …
It feels weirdly formal. Like I’m writing to a stranger instead of to the one person who knows me better than anyone. And I don’t like this. All it does it make me remember that she’s so far away, doing new things, meeting new people, while I’m still here, the same old Meg stuck in an all-new life. One without her. It hurts. But I don’t have a choice. I have to keep writing. For Linus.
Once I have written it all out—four paragraphs, and I have already left out some of the less important details—there is nothing to do but focus on my homework until she finds the time to write back to me. If she even wants to write back to me. I don’t know that she does. She called and texted a lot, the first few weeks. And then, when I never responded, she stopped.
But I do have enough to do to keep me busy for the rest of the day, at least until Mom gets home later tonight. So I don’t have to dwell on this; I can simply dive right into my homework instead.
I gather all of my courage and press SEND.
Chapter 34
Linus
OVER THE COURSE OF A week, I keep tutoring Danny, I keep participating in drama club and debate and astronomy, and really, everything is pretty much business as usual except for the fact that something is definitely going on with my best friend and I cannot figure out what it is.
She’s distracted one minute and attentive the next. She still hasn’t apologized for ditching me after rehearsal right after she promised she wouldn’t abandon me again, and I don’t quite know how to bring it up without sounding too whiny. Plus, she let me believe that it was Danny’s idea to approach me about tutoring, while really she was the one who told him he should do it. I mean, it’s not like she outright lied to me, but she didn’t tell me the whole truth, either. And that’s just not like her at all. Also, it makes me feel stupid for thinking Danny might have asked me because he wanted to. Because maybe he liked me. Clearly, it was Meg’s doing all along.
During drama club, she keeps to herself most of the time and then throws herself right into the middle of the action. It’s almost like she’s avoiding me. I don’t really mind her leaving me on my own in there; Danny is very nice and always willing to partner up with me and even gently encourages me after rehearsal, when Meg keeps bringing up the topic of auditioning for parts for the Sherlock Holmes play.
“I just think it could be fun,” she says, shrugging.
“I’m not an actor,”
I point out once again. “I wouldn’t get a part anyway.”
“Do you want a part?” Danny asks. “Because if you do, it can’t hurt to try, right?”
For a moment, I’m not sure if I like him taking Meg’s side in this, but he’s not pushing me to do anything. He’s just being helpful. So I smile and think about it and the thing is, I don’t even know if I want a part or not anymore. It really might be fun. Trying new things is good, right?
But no, really, I can’t figure out why Meg is acting the way she’s acting most of the time. She keeps up her weird habit of disappearing during lunch period. She’s done that every day this week. At least Danny always hangs around to keep me company, which is nice. I’m not a big fan of eating on my own.
I mean, maybe she just wants to give me some space with Danny. But I worry about her. I can just see her sitting alone in some secluded corner of the school yard, eating her lunch by herself, face sadly buried in some old sci-fi novel. Like she did that one time last year when she was fighting with Sophia. I don’t like that thought.
Things have started feeling so tenuous between us that I’m almost a bit nervous to bring up our plans after drama club.
“So, Star Trek marathon at my place today?” I ask as we’re packing up our things for the day. “After I’m done tutoring?”
She looks up, a little startled, and I can practically hear her thinking. “Uh,” she says. “I’m—sorry. I have—I can’t today, I have … Grandma.”
I blink at her. “You have what now?”
She shrugs and doesn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah, my grandmother is coming over today. Spontaneous visit. Sorry. But I really cannot just skip out on her; I never get to see her.…”
I shake my head and I’m honestly so confused. Meg’s grandmother is eighty-six years old and in a wheelchair and lives five hours away by car. How can she be making a spontaneous one-day trip to visit her granddaughter? “Okay,” I say, because I have no idea how else to react to such an obvious excuse. No, it’s more than that. It’s such an obvious lie.
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