Believing (Lily Dale #2)(17)

Not unless you count the fact that I have absolutely no clue how to even set up the first problem, much less solve it.

The classroom is hushed; all around her, pencils are scratching and her classmates are intently focused on the quiz.

“It’s only the second day of school. How can we have a test when we haven’t learned anything yet?” someone protested when Mr. Bombeck sprang it on them.

The stern reply: “That’s the point. I want to see where your math skills are.”

Calla realized, a few seconds in, that hers seem to have vanished into thin air, the way things often do in Lily Dale.

She looks up at the teacher now, shrugs, and whispers, “I’m sorry . . . I just don’t understand these problems.”

He nods a little and crooks a finger at her, gesturing for her to come with him.

She hesitates, then pushes back her chair. It makes a loud scraping sound on the hardwood floor and the entire class looks up at her. Everyone except Jacy Bly, that is. He’s intently focused on his test.

“I want you all to keep working,” Mr. Bombeck announces. “I’ll be right outside the door, and I’ll be monitoring you through the window. Keep your eyes on your own work, please.”

Calla follows him out of the classroom, her face burning.

Mr. Bombeck closes the door behind them and positions himself in front of the rectangular window so that he can keep watch on the classroom.

“I was afraid you might have trouble, Calla.”

“No, but . . . I’ve always been good in math. Straight A’s. I was supposed to be in Advanced Placement Calculus back in Florida.” Sharing that with him doesn’t feel like bragging.

Right. It’s more like sheer desperation. She can’t let the toughest teacher in her new school conclude she’s ignorant.

“I’m sure you did well there, but you did come from out of state.” He jerks the doorknob, pushes it open, and calls, “John, put all four chair legs on the floor.” Without missing a beat, he closes the door and goes on to Calla, “Our math curriculum here is extremely challenging.”

Yeah, no kidding.

“What should I do?” she asks helplessly.

“I’m going to assign you to a study partner for the next week or two. Let’s see if we can get you caught up. You’re staying with your grandmother in the Dale, right?”

When she nods, he says conclusively, “Willow York lives near you, and she’s got a terrific track record in math. The two of you can start working together right away.”

Willow York . . . again.

Could her life be any more complicated?





“Jacy! Wait up,” Calla calls, spotting him in the hallway just after the last bell.

His long legs were about to carry him around the corner to the stairwell, but he turns and looks back at her.

He doesn’t smile, but as she hurries toward him, she can’t help but decide he seems glad to see her. Smiling—and flirting—just aren’t his style.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she asks him, watching him swing his backpack over his shoulder after zipping his gray hooded sweatshirt.

“About math? Is everything okay?”

So he did notice that she had to leave the classroom with Bombeck. After their little talk, the teacher sent her to the school library for the remainder of the period. He said it made no sense for her to sit there while everyone else finished the test. She could feel them all watching her while she gathered up her things and left the classroom.

“Everything’s okay with math,” she tells Jacy, “I just need some extra help.”

“I can help you if you want.”

Yeah, I wish. If only Bombeck had assigned Jacy to be her study partner, instead of Willow. Maybe she can suggest that to—

No. She’d better not mess with Mr. Bombeck. He’s been human enough so far, but she can tell there’s a steely core underneath. Besides, he said he’d tell Willow to call her after school, so she must already know about being assigned as Calla’s study partner. If Calla backs out now, Willow might think she doesn’t want to work with her because of Blue.

Which is kind of true, she admits to herself.

“I was looking for you during lunch,” she tells Jacy. “Where were you?”

“Outside. I took a walk in the woods.”

“Really?” She checked the student handbook yesterday and found out the school has a closed lunch rule, meaning you have to stay in the cafeteria. Or so she thought. “So we’re allowed to go outside, then? During lunch?”

“No.” He shrugs. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

She looks around, not wanting anyone to see them together.

Anyone? You mean Evangeline.

“Calla?”

She likes the way Jacy says her name. Some people around here, with their Great Lakes accents, make the a’s flat and nasal, drawing it out into Key-alla.

Not Jacy.

Who, by the way, is still waiting for her to say something.

“Uh, sorry . . .” She tries to remember what it was she wanted to talk to him about.

Oh. Right. That.

Instantly, she’s plunked right back down to grim reality.

“Yesterday you said something about my being gifted. Well, not in those words, exactly, but . . . you know what I mean.”