Twelve Steps to Normal(36)

He unravels the foil on his own pan dulce and sticks a hunk in his mouth. I do the same.

“Oh my god.” My tongue is coated in sugar and carbs and it’s the best thing ever. “I missed these.”

Alex smiles.

I wait until I’m done chewing before saying, “Wait, you made these this morning? Like before school?”

“Yeah, it was my idea. I was up early helping her make tamales, anyway. It’s kind of a long process, but we finished this morning. My mom’s running a special this week.”

“Do you work there now?” I ask. “At Rosita’s?”

His face flushes. “I, uh. Just recently. My mom needs a little more help right now.”

I can tell I brought up a sore subject for whatever reason, so I change course. “Thanks for sharing,” I say as I polish off the last of mine. “Do you normally carry pan dulce with you in your backpack?”

He crumples up his foil into a ball. “Only on theater days when I don’t have time to go home and eat.”

“So your mom thinks you’re doing theater stuff?”

Alex shrugs. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

I laugh. “I wish I had an excuse. My dad’s going to kill me when he finds out.”

Alex stares at me like I’ve sprouted another head off the side of my neck. “So… don’t tell him?”

“Oh.” I blink a few times. He already thinks I’m at Earth Club with Lin. I don’t necessarily need to tell him otherwise. “Um. Wow, yeah. That could work.” I give him a sideways glance. “Who knew you had a bad side?”

He shrugs. “I don’t make a habit of it.”

What does that mean? Am I an exception?

I stare at him a beat too long. He looks away.

I try to go back to my work, but I’m officially stuck. I’ve skipped around and completed all the easy problems. I’m completely blindsided by the ones that have strings of letters attached to them. Why does algebra contain so many letters? Aren’t numbers complicated enough?

Alex leans over in his desk, his eyes focused on my packet. “What’d you get for thirty-two?”

I stare down at my work. “Uh, I sort of skipped around.” Then I shoot him a playful glare. “Why are you asking me anyway? I suck, remember?”

Instead of answering my question, he reaches over and flips my packet toward his line of vision. I watch him study my work, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. I don’t know why. It’s not like my algebra struggle is a secret. It’s why we’re both here.

I take the opportunity to study his profile as he scans my worksheet. He has a really great chin. I don’t tend to notice people’s chins, so I don’t know why I notice his. It curves neatly into a sturdy plane, jutting out slightly as he concentrates.

“Okay.” His liquid brown eyes meet mine. “You’re hopeless.”

“W-what?” Shame coats every bone in my body. Am I really that bad? How the hell am I going to survive the rest of this year?

Alex laughs. “I’m joking, sorry! You’re not hopeless.” He leans in closer. He smells nice, like spicy boy deodorant and laundry detergent. “It looks like you haven’t gotten the hang of a few steps, that’s all.”

“Great,” I say, defeated.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not much better. Ana’s been helping me with my homework. She had Mrs. Donaldson last year.”

I remember Alex’s two older sisters, Ana and Marlina. Marlina graduated last year, but Ana’s a senior this year. I first met them in the sixth grade when I went to Alex’s house to complete our Ancient Egypt history project.

“She tutors, you know,” he continues. “She’s starting back up this week in the library if you ever need extra help.” I feel my face warm again. I think he picks up on this because he goes, “If I didn’t get to bug her at home, I would go. I wouldn’t have passed math these last two years without her.”

I smile at him. I don’t know why he’s being so nice to me after what I did to put us both here, but I appreciate it.

Footsteps click down the hall. Alex slides out of the seat next to me and hands me my packet. Then, quietly, he walks over to his desk. I bend over my worksheet and pretend to work.

Mrs. Donaldson returns with a stack of papers in her hand. She sets them down on the desk and says, “Packets, please.”

We hand them to her. She glances over them briefly before saying, “Thank you. You’re free to go.”

The two of us gather our things and head out the door without a word. When we’re a few feet down the hall Alex says, “How much do you want to bet she’ll look over our work tonight as a bit of late night pleasure reading?”

The corners of my mouth lift into a smile. Somehow we’ve fallen in step together as we make our way to the parking lot. “She probably dreams of polynomials and parabolas.”

“Instead of counting backwards to fall asleep, she counts backwards from the square root of fifty.”

I laugh. It feels nice, talking and joking around like we used to. Alex holds the door for me and I step outside. Our cars are some of the few left in the junior/senior lot. Everyone else has gone home.

Alex turns to me. “Here.” He pulls a piece of candy from his jeans pocket. “For the ride home.”