Page 3 of First Echo

Once the class ended, we all grabbed our bags and made our way to the door, but Mr. Sinclair stopped me.

“Miss Hayes, a word please?” he said, his eyes narrowing a bit.

I paused, bracing myself. I wondered if it was about my grade or the fact that I was late again. I really, really hoped it was the latter. Sam looked at me, as if uncertain whether he should wait around. I nodded my head toward the exit, giving him and Julian permission to head out. They both left with that same concerned look on their faces, though Julian still had a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Mr. Sinclair, if this is about the fact that I was late this morning, I just overslept and it won’t happen again,” I said as quickly as possible, trying to sound sincere. Oh, it most definitely would.

“It’s not about that,” he replied, pursing his lips.

“Well, a bit, but the main problem is that you are going to fail this class, Madeline.”

I felt my heart sink lower than it had before. Me, Madeline Hayes, failing a class? How was that even possible? Sure, I’d skated by plenty of times without studying properly, but I always managed to scrape a passing grade.

“You’re a smart girl, and I do believe that with the right guidance, you can pass. So that’s why I’m assigning you a tutor,” he said, his tone decisive.

I stared at him in disbelief. A tutor? A tutor? As if almost failing a class wasn’t embarrassing enough, now I had to spend time with some random nerd who probably thought they were better than me? The idea of it made my stomach twist with anxiety and resentment.

“Mr. Sinclair, I don’t think—” I tried to protest, but he raised a hand to silence me.

“It’s already arranged, Madeline,” he said, his voice calm yet firm.

“If you don’t agree to the sessions, I have no choice but to inform your parents. And I know you don’t want that.”

He handed me a small piece of paper with a name scrawled on it. I skimmed it, my eyes catching the faint handwriting that detailed where and when I was supposed to meet this tutor. Yeah. No. Absolutely not. But as I slid the paper into my pocket, I couldn’t help but realize that I might not have much of a choice if I wanted to survive my parents’ wrath and maybe even salvage my grade.

Outside the classroom, I caught sight of Sam and Julian standing by the lockers. They looked up as I stepped into the hallway, clearly curious about what happened. I forced a smile, though I felt anything but happy. The halls were bustling with other students heading to their next class, some laughing with friends, some staring at their phones, a few trying to cram in some last-minute reading. Everything carried on as usual. But for me, that one short conversation with Mr. Sinclair had changed everything.

I could practically feel the weight of that piece of paper in my pocket, the threat of failing swirling in my mind. It was like the cold I felt this morning had settled inside me, chilling my thoughts. I realized that, even though I despised the idea, this tutor might be my best shot at turning things around. That didn’t mean I had to be happy about it, though. Absolutely not.

CHAPTER THREE

BROOKE

Iwas walking toward the library to study when I got an email from Mr. Sinclair. It struck me as odd to hear from him so soon, especially since I had only just left his classroom ten minutes ago. My phone vibrated softly in my pocket, and for a moment I debated whether I should read the message right away or wait until I was settled in the library. Curiosity got the better of me, so I tapped open the email while navigating the busy hallway.

I got an A on my test, which was pretty good,though I was almost too anxious to feel proud. Tests always made my stomach twist in knots. As I read Mr. Sinclair’s email, I felt a faint flicker of satisfaction flicker alongside uncertainty.

Hi Brooke,I was wondering if you had the time to tutor a fellow student. She is going to fail my class if she doesn’t get an A on the next test, and since you are my best student, I thought you were well qualified for the job. I look forward to hearing from you!Kind regards,Mr. Sinclair

I was not surprised he asked me. People often said I was a natural when it came to academics, and in Mr. Sinclair’s eyes I might have been the perfect candidate for tutoring.I really was his best student.Still, I wondered who he was talking about. My mind flicked through possibilities—perhaps someone like Nathan who usually fell asleep in class, or maybe Charlotte whorarely paid attention. It was unusual for Mr. Sinclair to reach out so directly, so this situation must have been urgent.

I stopped by a row of lockers to quickly type my response.

Hi Mr. Sinclair, yes, that’s fine. I would appreciate it if you could tell them to meet me at the tutoring center after school so we can pick a date and time for our first session. Sincerely, Brooke Winters

With that handled, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and continued down the corridor. The library doors stood at the far end, tall and made of thick glass. A dull hush emanated from within, promising a haven where I could study undisturbed for a while. Outside, a couple of students gathered in small groups, chatting in hushed voices about weekend plans, upcoming exams, or maybe the latest gossip. I passed by them, feeling only a mild sense of detachment. I was thinking about who I might end up tutoring. My mind drifted between different scenarios, imagining how that first session might go. I was usually patient but tutoring someone who barely tried could be frustrating.I hoped this student would be at least somewhat motivated.

After classes ended for the day, I left the main school building and made my way toward the tutoring center. It was a separate annex, right behind the gym, with large windows that often let in the late afternoon sunlight. That day, the sky was overcast, and the light was gloomy, so there was only a faint glow in the windows as I approached. Now and then, a stray gust of wind blew, causing the trees around me to rustle. There was a sidewalk that led from the main entrance to the tutoring center, its concrete cracked in places from the changing seasons.I was careful not to trip, especially since I had my eyes half-focused on the building and half on my phone notifications.

Through the window, I saw someone standing inside, a single silhouette against the fluorescent lights. My vision was a little blurry from forgetting to put in my contacts, which reallyannoyed me since I was sure I’d set them out next to the sink the night before.Stupid.I scolded myself for being so careless. The figure in the window moved slightly, turning as if scanning the room. I thought maybe they were tapping their foot; they had that impatient stance you notice from a distance.

The closer I got, the clearer they became,though the haze of my bad eyesight still blurred the details of their face. A cold tingling crept over my skin, as if my intuition was warning me that something unexpected was waiting inside. A tiny part of me hoped this was just some random student getting help in algebra, not the person I was supposed to meet.

Until I walked through the door.

Oh no. No no no. Madeline Hayes.My heart sank into my stomach. That was the last name I wanted to hear. It was enough to make my cheeks feel warm, a mix of shock and dread. Not only was she infamous for being difficult, arrogant, and unbelievably popular, she was also the type of person I tried my best to avoid altogether. Now I was apparently supposed totutorher?

Madeline Hayes needed tutoring. From me?I felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Why me? Of course, I knew why it had to be me—Mr. Sinclair’s top student, the one who always showed up on time, who always studied. Still, it felt like some cruel cosmic joke.

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