Elsa Winters is a good girl. She lives peacefully with her strict parents, does well in school, and always dresses as though she has somewhere important to be.
Jack Frost is a bad boy. He drinks, sneaks into parties, clubs, and concerts, smokes, doe...
"Pay attention." I say. We are sitting in my bedroom on the window seat, using clipboards as hard surfaces for schoolwork.
"What?"
"Pay attention."
"Sorry, sweetheart, you're just exceedingly boring." Jack grins. I scowl.
"Listen, I don't want to do this either, but I also don't want to waste my time," I sigh. "Let's just do it quickly so I don't have to look at your stupid, smug face."
Jack rolls his eyes at me, running his thumb over the leather jacket on his lap. Even though he can't wear it anymore, he has it with him nearly everywhere he goes. I wonder if it's important to him or something.
"Fine. Start talking numbers."
"Thank you," I say, beaming to drive him crazy. It does, I think, because he scoffs and glares at the paper.
What a jerk.
"Alright, we'll start easy. Write 230, 000, 000, 000 in scientific notation," I say.
"Why?" Jack asks. I take that as 'I can't do that,' and wonder if Jack has ever had any proper schooling.
"Let me explain it to you-"
"No, I know the answer. But, still, why?" He demands.
"Why what?"
"I am not going to use scientific notation. Ever." Jack tells me, "I don't need it. Tell me a job, right now, where I would need this."
That isn't the point. He doesn't seem to understand that.
"That doesn't matter." I snap, "There are tiny pathways that link one side of your brain to the other, okay? Every time you learn something new, the pathways get stronger. Every time you practice that thing, they get even stronger than before-"
"What are you talking about?"
"Listen and I'll I tell you. Anyways, the stronger these paths get, the smarter you are. Even if you don't really use something, learn it anyways, and you'll be able to keep up conversation with someone important."
"Elsa, just-"
"If you know everything in the world but can't keep up a conversation, you won't go anywhere in life. That's why teachers tell us things we sometimes don't need." I finish, "Now, write 230, 000, 000, 000 in scientific notation."
Jack glares at me. He looks at the paper, clutching the pencil in his hand so tightly it looks like it might snap, and writes:
a × 10 n , where a is a real number such that 1 ≤ |a| < 10 and n is an integer. The answer is 230,000,000,000 = 2.3 × 100,000,000,000 = 2.3 × 1011
"Good, actually." I say, "I'm surprised. It seems like you do have a brain in there after all."
"After your huge speech on brains and pathways, I find it hard to believe you doubted it." Jack says, "Are we done?"
"We've only done three problems."
"It's been two hours."
"Only because you insist on arguing with me!"
Jack only smirks at me. I hate it when he does that. He just thinks he can win anyone over with that dumb grin!
"Whatever," I say, "Moving on. You seem to have scientific notation down, so why don't we try something else?"
"Mmmm-hmmm," Jack says, moving the pencil across the paper, and I know he isn't paying attention.
Well, it's his education, not mine.
"Fine." I say finally, "If you're not going to listen, have fun living in the streets!"
"I make plenty of money, sweetheart." Jack says, still writing.
"Doing what?"
"I run errands for people."
"Why can't said people do it themselves?"
"Because they're either on parole, or they've been kicked out of the bar. I just go in, buy them what they want, and they me back plus a little extra." Jack says.
"So, you basically by drugs and alcohol for people who aren't allowed to." I finish.
"Yep." Jack says absently, the pencil scratching. "There's this really cool place where I make most of my runs."
I laugh weakly. "Let's stop talking about you doing illegal stuff, and move back to studying."
The pencil still moves.
"Whatever."
Jack keeps writing.
"Will you quit?" I cry, snatching the paper away.
"Hey, give it!" Jack snaps. I stare at the paper in my hand.
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
"Did... Did you just draw this?" I ask, mouth open.
"Yeah, now give it back."
"Who is he?"
"My dog. His name is Ripper. Now give it back. Now." Jack demands.
"This is really good."
"I don't care what you think, just give it back." He groans.
"Fine," I say, "But I don't get why it's so important. It's just a drawing, you know."
Jack only glares at me, folds up the paper, and puts it his pocket. "I'm done."
"You can't just say you're done!" I cry, "You've barely done any work!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Elsie." Jack says, smirking at me, "You must have mistaken me for someone who actually cares."
He walks out of the room, taking the drawing with him. The clipboard slips off the window seat and falls to the floor with a clatter.
Hmmm. Jack can draw. He can do math.
Interesting. Why does he want to hide those things? Why doesn't he want to show me his drawing? The art is really good. Great, actually. I would kill for drawing skills like that.
But he seems intent on keeping them secret. Why would he do that?
I'm not sure. I'll have to find out.
It would be nice to have something to hold over his head, the same way he can manipulate me the that video.
