Counting Down with You(8)
At four, the bell rings, signaling an end to after-school tutoring. Students start to leave the library, heading for their respective clubs.
I try to tamp down my annoyance at the empty seat across from me.
My group chat with Nandini and Cora buzzes with notifications, distracting me from homework.
Cora Zhang-Agreste:
SO??? HOW DID IT GO??? IS #KARSTAIR OFFICIALLY A THING?
Nandini Kaur:
I want it on record that I prefer #ACEKARINA!!! but also YEAH UPDATE US WHAT IS GOING ONNNN
Me:
I literally cannot stand EITHER of you!!! he hasn’t even showed up so... [pretends to be shocked]
Cora Zhang-Agreste:
ugh men are such flops
Cora Zhang-Agreste:
they really can’t do a single thing right
Nandini Kaur:
I guess we should’ve known but damn. it was nice to have hope for like 2 seconds lmao
Me:
not to say I told you so but I told you so!!! plus I’M NOT TRYING TO DATE HIM SO CAN Y’ALL CHILL
Cora Zhang-Agreste:
chilling? never heard of that concept!
I go to my locker, pack my things, and grab an umbrella. It’s raining outside, though it wasn’t an hour ago. Another reason to be irritated.
If I had a confrontational bone in my body, I would hunt down Ace and demand to know why he’s forcing me into this awkward and horribly anxiety-inducing situation.
As it is, all I can do is wait for tomorrow.
5
T-MINUS 26 DAYS
During my free period the next day, I finish the study guide I started working on last night. Admittedly, I did it more for Miss Cannon than Ace. I want her to know I gave this every effort, that I actively tried to help him. It’s not much, but it’s something to show initiative on my part.
Giving him a study guide also means I won’t have to deal with this tutoring situation anymore. The problem will be out of my hands.
My annoyance might have slipped in while I was writing it, though. In place of formal descriptions are the crude recaps I usually give to my friends. I probably should’ve kept it more professional, but it’s not my fault he didn’t show up.
Nandini and Cora insist I go to the library again, saying maybe Ace had an emergency and I should give him a second chance. I have to remind them exasperatedly that I’m not trying to date him.
God forbid I ever do. My parents would murder me.
There are far too many rules in my household, and not dating is one of the big ones. Some of them, I can understand, but others are more difficult to get behind. I have to be careful with the way I spend my time, I have to be careful with who I decide to hang out with, and I have to be careful about what kind of goals I choose to pursue.
With all of that in mind, getting an English degree is more or less a pipe dream.
Abiding by all these rules day in and day out is exhausting, but my parents have sacrificed too much for me to throw it all away by being selfish. They left behind their lives in Bangladesh and moved here in the hopes of giving me a better life. They want me to grow up and be successful, to be financially stable, to be focused and diligent and hardworking.
I know they’re thinking about my future, but I don’t know how to be the daughter they can gloat about at our community parties, the daughter whose achievements they can praise to their coworkers, the daughter who never steps a toe out of line and does everything exactly as they wish. Still, a part of me wants that—to be enough for them, to have them be proud of me. The rest of me wishes I could crawl into a hole.
I try not to think about it too much.
When I get to English, I don’t see Ace, so I leave the study guide on his usual desk with a scribbled note explaining what it is. Miss Cannon watches me curiously but only offers a smile when our eyes meet.
I exhale in relief. If she saw how awful my commentary was, I think I’d have to drop out of school.
I wait on the edge of my seat for Ace’s arrival, but the clock keeps ticking, Miss Cannon keeps teaching, and the door to the classroom remains closed.
He’s ditching? Seriously?
Right before class ends, someone knocks on the front door. Xander Clyde pops his head into our classroom, and everyone falls silent.
His eyes are a stunning pale blue, and his dark brown hair is slicked back. He looks like every Ivy League college’s wet dream, with his brown loafers, tan khakis, and tucked-in button-down shirt.
When he grins at Miss Cannon, I glance at Cora. As much as she jokingly encouraged me to pursue Ace, I think she’d have an aneurysm if any of us even looked at Xander romantically. Ever since he beat her out for student body president, she’s been seething with contempt for him.
“Sorry, Miss Cannon, do you have a minute?” Xander asks, leaning against the doorway.
She furrows her brows but nods. “Class, continue to discuss. I’ll be right back.”
“I wonder what that’s about,” Nandini says, turning toward us as the door closes behind them. “Do you think it has to do with Ace?”
As if her words are a trigger, the front door slams open, and a different figure enters. It’s obviously Ace, but there’s a hood over his head, so I barely catch a glimpse of his expression as he stalks toward his desk, snags my study guide with ringed fingers, and walks back out.
The class immediately bursts into confused clamor.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, staring after him. “Did Miss Cannon mention I left something for him? Do you think she knows he ditched our study session yesterday?”