Page 73 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
Houston shrugged. “Our dad is from New York and our mom was from Texas.” He turned when someone called his name, showing me for the first time a deep bruise on his temple.
I gasped and grabbed his arm. “What happened to you?”
Both boys cracked up, like there was some inside joke I was missing. Something told me Jordan had something to do with the bruise, though I hoped it wasn’t a fight or something. They seemed to like each other well enough.
“Come on,” Houston said without answering the question. “Sam’s giving us a ride.”
I groaned. Of all my stepsiblings—of which there were many—Sam was the most annoying.
Jordan punched Houston lightly before turning to me. “Don’t worry, Queens. I’ll protect you from your big bad brother.”
I frowned. “That’s not my name.”
“I know.” Then he winked at me, and I had a feeling he was going to be a thorn in my side for the rest of my life.
Mateo may not have Jordan’s smirk, but he has the same spark of mischief in his eyes as he approaches me at the front of the room. I’m tempted to sneak a picture of him and compare it to one of Jordan from our junior year, just to see if my memory is accurate, but that would be illegal. Or at least frowned upon.
“You must be Mateo,” I say with as warm a smile as I can manage. “I’m Miss Briggs.”
He examines me for a second, hardly any expression in his face. “Where should I sit?”
He sounds like Jordan too, only there’s an undercurrent of defiance in his words. He clearly doesn’t want to be here but is smart enough to know he can’t skip every class.
I keep my smile firmly in place. “We’re doing a lab today. I’m going to pair you up with Meghan.”
Right on cue, Meghan hops up and approaches us. She’s on the student council and incredibly smart, so she’ll be able to both make Mateo feel welcome in our class and help him settle in. “Hi! It’s Mateo, right? We have US History together.”
Mateo’s eyebrows pull together as he looks at her, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Were you taking chemistry at your last school?” I ask him.
He drops his eyes to his shoes. “No.”
That’s going to make this hard for him, but I can put in some extra time after school if he’s willing to take some tutoring. I’ll suggest that once I have a better idea of how much he needs to learn to get up to speed. “We’re done with the first quarter, but hopefully you can catch up without too much trouble.”
He lets out a deep sigh that sounds too weary for a seventeen-year-old. “Where’s our table?” he asks Meghan.
She shows him to her station, where her partner is waiting with a leery expression that has me slightly worried about how Mateo will be received. Meghan will be nice to him, but that doesn’t mean Ethan will take kindly to working with someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’ll have to keep an eye on them.
Halfway through the class period, Meghan comes up to me and hands me her finished lab report.
“Wait,” I say, looking it over. “You finished already?” This was supposed to take two lab periods, and I haven’t even taught one of the formulas they’ll need to finish. I was hoping Meghan would take her time and explain everything to Mateo.
After glancing at the class behind her, Meghan leans in and mutters, “I don’t think Mateo should be in this class.”
To say I’m disappointed in her is an understatement. “I know he’s new, but he can—”
“He did the whole thing, Miss Briggs.” She points at the lab report. “All of it. We didn’t even do half of the experiment because he’d already filled that part in.”
I look over at Mateo, who is slouched on his stool and looking at his phone. Even I can see the boredom in his expression.
Turning back to the lab report, I check all the answers. Sure enough, everything is accurate, including a description of some of the reactions I know they wouldn’t have done today.
Looks like Mateo Torres lied to me.
“Thanks, Meghan. Would you and Ethan mind helping out Sadie and Jess? They look like they’re struggling a bit. And if you could ask Mateo to come over here, that would be awesome.”
When Mateo comes over, he looks like I’m about to tell him he’s in trouble. “What did I do?” he asks before I can get a word in.
