Page 90 of A Stealthy Situation

It’s tempting to get up, hand in my paper, and leave. I’ve done what I can, but I don’t want to draw attention to being done early, so I turn back to the start of my paper test and try again with the stupid questions that don’t make any sense.

This is all the Greek’s fault. Probably. I think they’re the ones who came up with math. Or maybe it was Cleopatra. She seemed like a smart chick.

Either way, whoever it was can suck a big one because math sucks. It’s stupid and useless, and who even needs it anyw?—

“Time’s up.”

My exhale is less relief at this being over and more resignation at the big, fat F coming my way. I stay sitting right where I am as everyone breaks into conversation, grabbing their stuff and making their way out as fast as they can.

The room is emptier when I stand and pack my shit away. I’m not looking forward to handing this in. I’m not looking forward to facing Harrison. Technically, if I didn’t hand it in, I’d probably score about the same. My gut is in knots as I drop the paper on Professor Brooks’s desk and hightail it for the door.

Harrison’s exactly where he said he’d be, and I can’t bring myself to drop that happy look from his face. “How was it?”

“It was a test.”

He chuckles, taking my bag from me and slinging it over his shoulder.

“I can carry that.”

“I know. But you’ve had a stressful morning, and I can do it just as well as you can.”

Instead of being a dick and arguing the point, I let it go. “I … I don’t think it went well,” I force myself to say. The last thing I want is for him to have hopes that I’ll pull off some miraculous pass when there’s no way in hell that will happen.

“I always feel that way after a test too. It’s all the stress. But it usually turns out okay, and if not, you can always retake it.”

That isn’t the reassurance he thinks it is. The thought of having to go through that again makes me want to throw up.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I grab it as a way to avoid this conversation. But it’s another one I don’t want to face.

Em:

How did it go?

I groan and shove my phone away.

“Who was it?” Harrison asks.

“My brother.”

“Then why the groan?”

Okay, I guess I’m not avoiding this conversation, then. “He also asked how it went, and it’s not something I want to think about.”

“In that case, I’ll shut up about it, but one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you. Sure, you made some shitty choices that got you into this mess, but you’re working to fix them. That’s important. Maybe more important than people give credit for.”

“Does it still count when the only reason I’m fixing my mistakes is because you called me out on being a cheater?”

Harrison thinks about it for a moment, pushing the door at the end of the hall open for me to pass. “It depends. How do you feel now you’re not relying on Em?”

“Stupid.”

“Benny …”

I roll my eyes at him, not liking that he can already read me. “Fine. I’m glad I’ve taken that pressure off him. And, sure, maybe now that I’ve realized just how behind I am, deep down, waaay deep, under all the fear and self-doubt, I’m kinda glad I’ll be working on it. Better late than never and all that.”

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