CHAPTER THREE

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Chapter Three

I spin toward the voice behind me.

Evan stands with several textbooks in his arms, his eyebrows lifted.

I scrunch my mouth and shrug. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

He drops the books on the table, a loud thud filling the room. The librarian looks up as Evan slides into the chair next to me. “Why not? Didn’t Mrs. Hernandez tell you I was?”

“Well… yes… but I waited and you didn’t show up.”

“I had to go around and talk to your teachers. Find out what they wanted me to work on. As it was, I only got to two of them, but I figured that was enough for one day.” He rests his forearms on the table, lacing his fingers together in a casual pose, yet they tremble slightly. He looks nervous. His head leans forward and he turns to study me.

A blush creeps up my neck.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say,” he says, looking flustered. “In ages,” he tacks on, like it’s an afterthought.

“You missed my speech in English Lit earlier.” I immediately regret bringing it up. I’m not sure why Evan is sitting next to me, but I’m curious enough I don’t want him to run off yet.

He opens his history book. “So I heard…Sarah gave me quite an earful.”

“Yet, you’re still here.”

His dark eyebrows rise. “Sure, why not?”

I shrug again. “Because of Sarah. You two have history.”

He looks confused. “Umm…”

“You two decided you were king and queen of the fourth grade and have ruled with an iron fist ever since. Don’t you all have a pack mentality? Share a brain cell?”

“Ha. Ha.” He grimaces. “Very funny.” But a genuine smile tugs on the corners of his lips.

“Seriously.” I lower my voice. “Why are you tutoring me?”

“Why not? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you barely acknowledged my existence before the accident, and let’s face it, no one acknowledges my existence since.”

He seems at a loss for words and taps his pencil on the open textbook. “Community service,” he finally says and shrugs. “I need it to graduate.”

“So?”

“So, I’d rather sit in a library tutoring you than working in a food pantry. Maybe that makes me an asshole, but so be it.”

I stare at a deep gouge on the table. I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but for some reason, that isn’t it.

“History or English Lit?”

“What?”

“What do you want to work on, History or English Lit?”

My answer is neither, which doesn’t seem appropriate given the circumstances. “History, since you have the book already open.”

He pulls a note out of his textbook. I recognize Mr. Archer’s handwriting scribbled on one side. “Wow, you’re really behind,” Evan finally says. “What have you been doing the last month?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Nothing.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. The strands curl around his fingers and remain out of place even after his hand lowers. “It was kind of a rhetorical question.” His blue eyes look up into mine. “Honestly, Jules, I don’t know how we’re going to pull you out of this.”

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