Wrong About the Guy(14)

Tell her you make me work harder and we should be paying you to come

That’s ridiculous

We’ll talk about it later

I didn’t want her money. George was my tutor and she only came as my invited guest, and that’s how I wanted it. I liked being the one in control.

Once he had finished printing up the tests, and we were just waiting for Heather to arrive, George started firing vocabulary words at me. “Define euphemism.”

“Polite word for something that isn’t polite. For instance, instead of saying that someone puked, I would say that they ‘prayed to the porcelain god’ or something like that.”

“Avuncular.”

“Behaving like an uncle to someone. Michael is very avuncular toward me. But when I marry his son, he’ll be more paternal. Do you want some tea?” I stood up.

“No, thanks. Fatuous.”

I put a tea pod into the coffee maker and hit the start button. “I’m not sure I can define it, but I’m pretty sure you’re an example of it.”

“Wrong,” he said. “It doesn’t mean wildly handsome.”


“Oh, well played, Georgie! You win that round.”

Soon after that, Heather buzzed in at the gate. “I have good news and bad news,” I told her as we walked along the hallway toward the kitchen. “The good news is we’re going shopping later.”

“And the bad news is that I can’t afford to buy anything.”

“Yes, you can. I’m treating.”

“Then the bad news is that it’s so hot, my car will melt before we leave.” She was dressed for the brutal heat in a pair of Daisy Dukes and a gauzy tee.

“Not that either.”

“Then what’s the bad news?”

We entered the kitchen and I gestured toward George, who was sitting there in his usual jeans and oxford shirt—dressed for a completely different climate. “First we have to take a practice SAT.”

“Oh no,” she said, backing away. “You didn’t tell me we were going to do that. That’s not fair.”

“Come on.” I took her hand and pulled her toward the table. “It’ll be fun. We’ll do it together.”

“No, you won’t,” George said. “I’m putting you in separate rooms. You need to take this seriously or there’s no point.”

“You go ahead,” Heather said. “I’ll wait. I can watch something or talk to George.”

“George doesn’t want to talk to you,” I said.

“I beg your pardon!” he said. “I’d be happy to talk to Heather.”

“Thank you,” she said to him. “I’d be happy to talk to you, too.”

“You have to take this test so George can help you raise your scores.” I turned to him. “I’ve got it all planned out: Heather and I are both going to get in early to Elton College. We’ll be done with all the college stuff before the holidays, and then we’ll be together for the next four years.”

“We hope we’ll get in,” Heather said. “I mean, I’m sure you will, but I’m not so sure about me. Elton College is hard to get into and I haven’t been the best student.”

“That’s why we’re going to apply early. They like people who apply early, especially people who are quirky and interesting, and who’s more quirky and interesting than us?”

The dimple on Heather’s right cheek appeared. “No one.”

“Plus George is going to make sure we do well on the SATs. Now get into the dining room and take that test.” I took her by the shoulders and steered her across the kitchen and through the archway that separated it from the dining room.

“Why do I have to be in here?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Because I need to be in the kitchen. My tea’s in there.” I came back in and sat down, folded my hands, and looked up at George like an obedient pupil. “We’re ready to take your test, Mr. Nussbaum, sir.”

He handed me the packet and told me to get to work.


On Friday, I was coming down the stairs in the morning and spotted George heading out the front door

“What are you doing?” I called out.

He turned around and greeted me in his usual measured way—he never seemed particularly excited to see me, but he was always pleasant enough. “Your mom asked me to get her laptop fixed.” He showed me the computer sleeve in his hand. “I’m running to the Genius Bar. Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

“What about?”

“Heather’s not here, right?”

I looked to my left and to my right, then patted the pockets of my jean shorts. “Doesn’t seem to be. Why?”

“I just wanted to say that maybe you shouldn’t be pushing her to apply early to Elton.”

I leaned against the banister. “Why not?”

“After scoring that test you guys took, I’m worried she doesn’t have much of a shot there.”

I shrugged. “Neither of us was taking it very seriously.”

“You still managed to do incredibly well.” He shifted the computer from one hand to the other. “Elton would be a big reach for her, I think.”

“You’re not a college counselor,” I said. “You don’t really know.”