The Impossible Knife of Memory(17)

I checked his face and hands; there were no scrapes or cuts to show he’d been in a fight. I threw on a jacket and my sneakers and went out to the truck. No marks on the bumpers, no new scratches in the paint. I opened the door and found empty Budweiser cans in the foot well and an extra hundred and fifteen miles on the odometer.

Finn hadn’t said that he’d pick me up on Friday. In fact, I hadn’t seen him since I gave him the library article. But I sort of watched for him while I was standing at the bus stop. He didn’t show.

The bus smelled like fresh puke.

The cafeteria was being fumigated so first period was wasted in the auditorium being supervised by a teacher I had never seen before who clearly forgot to take her medication.

Not only did I flunk my math test with a 0 percent (that’s right, he didn’t give me any points for putting my name on the paper and remembering the correct date), but I also flunked my homework by getting every problem right.

SEE ME! was scrawled at the top of my paper. In red.

Rogak forced a surprise quiz on the lotus-eaters down our throats, we had not one, but two lockdown drills during study hall (we were too loud during the first one), and then we had to go outside for gym because the janitors were doing something sticky to the gym floor.

I had dressed for fall, you know, long sleeves, jeans, boots. Summer had reappeared, choking us with eighty degrees instead of fifty. I had a heatstroke and that’s why I zoned in forensics and Chinese and didn’t rise to the bait when Diaz asked me what I thought about the legacy of Andrew Jackson.

The final bell rang and my classmates sprinted for the exits.

I trudged back down to the math wing.

“There’s cheating and then there’s felony cheating.” Cleveland shook my homework in my face. “It’s not even your handwriting, Hayley. How stupid do you think I am?”

I had so much fun thinking about possible answers to that question that I didn’t hear much of what he said for the next five minutes. Then an alarm sounded in my brain.

“Excuse me, sir, could you please repeat that?” “I said I’ve arranged a tutor for you.”

“I don’t need a tutor.”

He picked up his red pen and circled my test grade again. “Okay,” I said. “I don’t want a tutor.”

“It’s the only way you’re going to pass this class, and

that’s assuming you work your tail off.”

“I’m actually kind of, you know, smart,” I said. “I don’t

need a tutor.”

He laughed so hard he could barely catch his breath.

“Wow.” He pulled a couple of tissues out of the box on his

desk and dabbed at his eyes. “Whew! I haven’t laughed like

that in a while.” He blew his nose and chucked the tissues in

the trash. “Finnegan Ramos has agreed to tutor you.” “No. I want somebody else.”

“You want a pony, too? Most of life is doing things we

don’t want to do, Hayley.”

“Thanks for the wisdom, sir, but it doesn’t apply here.” “Then I’ll set up a meeting with your,” he glanced at his

screen, “father and Ms. Benedetti so we can discuss which

lower-level math class you belong in.” He typed on his keyboard and looked at the screen again. “It says here that your

father’s phone number and email don’t work. How can I get

in touch with him?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. How would Dad react?

How would he handle himself in a meeting like that? What

if Benedetti mentioned Trish?”

“What do I have to do so that you don’t call my father?” He looked at me over the monitor, eyes serious. “Tutoring sessions until you catch up on the work you’ve blown off. Do your own homework and get your grade out of the toilet by the end of the semester and pass all tests.” He stood up. “Also, it wouldn’t hurt if you wrote a few more satire pieces for what we hope is going to be a newspaper one of

these days.”

“Excuse me?”

“Finn showed me your article. He said you wanted a

regular opinion column. It might be a good idea, as long as

your grade comes up and you don’t get controversial. No

abortion, no religion, and nothing about today’s botched

lockdown drill, okay? The board is on the fence about releasing the money for the paper; the last thing we need is

to upset them with an actual opinion about something that

matters.”

I opened my mouth, but words didn’t come out. He handed me back my fake homework. “Your first tutoring session starts now. He’s in the library.”





_*_ 25 _*_

I tried. I really did, but it was ten million degrees in the library, and Finn was being a obstinate jerk. The fans set up in the stacks sounded like jackhammers, and my brain was melting.

I might have said a few things to him that were less than nice.

Finn finally stood up and slammed his book closed. “This isn’t going to work.” he said. “I’ll email Cleveland.” “No,” I said. “I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“You’re not even trying.”