Counting Down with You(5)

Someone else raises their hand. “I agree with Karina. On page 150, it says...”

I nod, flipping to the mentioned page in the book.

The conversation continues for another ten minutes before we split up into groups. Naturally, Cora, Nandini, and I push our desks closer together.

“Okay, so I didn’t read any of it yet,” Nandini admits after checking to make sure Miss Cannon is attending to a different group. “I had a late shift at the movie theater yesterday and I still had to finish the physics lab, so...something had to give.”

“I skimmed most of it but didn’t really understand,” Cora says, scratching her nose. “Karina, can you explain?”

I roll my eyes, unsurprised. We all have our strengths when it comes to school subjects. Nandini loves science, Cora loves history, and I love literature. “So you basically want Gatsby for Dummies?”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Nandini says.

I sigh, but nod. “All right. So Nick and Gatsby are basically driving together, and Gatsby is like blah, blah, blah, here’s my whole life story, and only God knows why Nick cares. Then Gatsby’s all like bro, I’ve done all kinds of wild shit you wouldn’t believe. I collected all these jewels in Europe and hunted big game and had mad medals awarded to me during World War I from tons of European countries. And Nick is like...huh? And Gatsby is all like look here’s my medal from Montenegro and me and my bros playing cricket in Oxford, yada, yada, yada.”

“I love you,” Cora says sincerely. “You are an angel and I would absolutely die for you. I am never going to read a book again.”

“That is the exact opposite of what you should do,” I say, kicking her underneath the desk. “Please read a book.”

“We’ll see,” Cora says, waving a nonchalant hand.

I explain the rest of the chapter, and we decide on a talking point for our homework just before the bell rings. We stand up to head for lunch, which we have next, but as we head for the door, Miss Cannon says, “Karina, can you come here for a second?”

I falter and look at my friends.

“We’ll wait outside,” Nandini says, patting my arm. I smile gratefully and go over to Miss Cannon’s desk, which is overflowing with books and papers.

Miss Cannon is my favorite teacher. She’s only a few years older than us and always has the most interesting lessons. When I told her I love to read everything from classics to young adult fiction, she offered me some of the best recommendations and then asked me if I’d be her assistant during after-school tutoring, which runs for an hour every day after ninth period.

I hesitated at first, because I’m not good outside my social bubble of Nandini and Cora. But tutoring means helping someone one-on-one for a few minutes, and even for me, that’s manageable.

Getting my parents’ permission was another problem, but Miss Cannon talked to them. Unsurprisingly, they demanded an in-person meeting before agreeing to let me stay after school from 3:00 to 4:00 p.m. every day.

Of course, they have no qualms about me staying late for Pre-Med Society on Tuesdays, even though it means another hour at school, since clubs don’t start until after tutoring. I wish they were as lenient with everything else, but that’s asking too much. I rarely go to the meetings anyway. No one cares if you skip club activities unless you’re on the e-board. And I most certainly am not on the e-board for Pre-Med Society.

As soon as I lean against one of the desks, Miss Cannon says, “Before you say no, hear me out.”

“Yikes,” I say. “That doesn’t sound promising, Miss Cannon.”

“I know, I know.” Miss Cannon sighs quietly, toying with a red dreadlock. “As you know, the English Regents are coming up.”

I nod. Regents Exams are state-mandated exams we have to take every year as per New York law. This year, I have them for English, Physics, Italian, and US History.

“A student in my class reached out for help,” Miss Cannon says. “We’ve worked together a little, but I think he’d benefit more from one of his fellow classmates’ perspectives. Would you consider privately tutoring him?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Me? I think you’re talking to the wrong person.”

“No, I definitely chose the right person,” Miss Cannon says, smiling, before her expression shifts to serious again, her lips pursed. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but instead of helping me during after-school tutoring sessions, you could spend that time with him.”

My mouth dries. “For five days a week?”

Miss Cannon winces. “Yes, preferably, since it’ll be substituting the time you spend helping me here. It’s only for three months, and you’re my best student, Karina. I know you can do this.”

I shake my head, my pulse hammering. “Miss Cannon, I don’t know if—”

“If you do, you’ll be excused from having to do the poetry project,” Miss Cannon says, cutting me off. “I’ll count this as your grade instead.”

I falter. The poetry project is worth twenty percent of our grade. She wants us to write ten original pieces following the specific parameters of different poetry formats—haikus, limericks, freestyle, and so on. We have to turn it in next month and choose one of the ten poems to present in front of the class.

Even though I love poetry, I hate public speaking. More than that, I hate the thought of saying my deepest, most vulnerable thoughts aloud. Being free of that obligation just to tutor some random dude during the time I’d be helping Miss Cannon anyway? It might be worth it.