You Asked for Perfect(22)

“No, not you. We’re out of practice problems. I should’ve gotten us some additional material.”

“I can find some for next time,” I offer.

Amir raises an eyebrow. “Next time?”

“Oh, I meant…if you don’t mind… Or, if you have time. You know, to study again. Is that okay?”

When he laughs, it lights up his whole face. “I never thought I’d see a nervous Ariel Stone. It’s really messing with my head.”

“Really?” I lean forward. “How do I normally seem?”

“Sure of yourself,” Amir says. “Scattered, but sure of yourself. You’re always doing five things at once but seem on top of it all.”

“So I’ve done it? I’ve mastered the look of having my shit together?”

“I’d say so. It’s a bit like watching a stampede. Ordered chaos.” His eyes are bright. “How do you see me? I’m curious.”

He’s close enough I can smell the spearmint and basil. My pulse thuds fast. “Well, you’re usually quiet, paying more attention to your camera than the people around you. And sometimes you can seem a little…” I cough out the next words. “…into yourself.”

He laughs, loud, then leans back in his chair and scratches the stubble on his jaw. “Perhaps I am, a little bit,” he says. “Though to be fair, all my self-confidence is mixed with intense self-doubt. Like my friends—”

“Your cool, older friends?” I interject.

He laughs again. “Yeah, them. They’re all older than me. And sometimes I catch myself trying to impress them, as if I have to make up for the fact that I’m younger.”

“Why do you hang out with older people?”

He shrugs. “I have some friends at school, but I don’t know. It happened naturally. I connected with Rasha’s classmates, and over time, I met friends of friends and so on, and they became my circle.” He pauses. “I like the excuse to get out of the house, create some distance. I love my family, but they can be overwhelming. It’s hard to get a word in when they’re all talking at once. Sometimes I need to get away, decompress.”

His family is like mine—loud.

For an introspective person like Amir, it must be a lot to deal with. Which frustrates me a little because it means, for years, I’ve been missing out on this guy sitting right next to me.

“Well, I’m glad I get full sentences from you now,” I say.

He laughs. “Thanks. So, wait, what were we talking about?”

“Um, studying together again.”

“Right! Yes, let’s do it. This material is difficult for me also.”

“Please,” I say. “You’re like a math savant.”

His eyes tease me. “Perhaps compared to you.”

“Not cool.”

“Kidding.” He grins. “Well, mostly. Let’s finish this problem. You got it?”

“We’ll see.”

His grin widens. “You’ve got it.”

I work through the steps, hesitating before punching numbers in the calculator, running back over all my handwork. My pencil wavers over the page. I’m about to ask Amir for help when he says, “Keep going.”

His assurance steadies me. I nod, take a short breath, and finish the problem. I glance at Amir afterward, unsure. “Is it right?”

“Let’s see.” He flips to the back of the book, then looks at my page, then back at his book.

“Well?”

He nods. “It looks like we might have two math savants in the room.”

“Awesome.” Suddenly, I feel lighter. I stand and bounce on my heels a couple of times. I want to punch the air like that guy at the end of The Breakfast Club, but that might be a bit much.

“You okay?” Amir asks.

“Very okay. I think I’m actually going to pass that test on Friday.”

“You’ll do better than pass. I’ll be both pissed and proud when you get a higher grade than me.”

I laugh, then walk over to their fridge. For the first time since failing that quiz, I feel truly happy, almost buoyant. Amir is right—I will do better than pass. I’ll bring up my grade, and everything will be as it should be again. “Mind if I grab something to eat? I’m starving. All sugar, no substance.”

“Sure. I’m hungry, too. I should eat before I head out.”

“Head out?” I glance at my phone. “It’s almost nine.”

“My friend Jacob has a showing at Elaine’s. It’s this great gallery downtown—small, but Elaine always tracks down the best artists. It’d be incredible to see my work there one day. Anyway, I promised him I’d stop by.”

I scratch behind my ear. “Does, uh, Jacob go to our school, or is he an older friend?”

“Older friend. He’s, like, twenty-two, I think.”

Twenty-two. That’s too old for them to be a thing, right? Still, my positivity trickles away. Whether he’s trying to be cool or not, Amir hangs out at art galleries on weeknights with interesting, older friends. I try to shake the feeling of rejection. Only days ago, I didn’t have a spare thought for Amir. But now, I’m having trouble keeping my eyes or thoughts off him.