Page 119 of Hail Marry
I don’t havehigh hopes of seeing Dallin at the youth center, which is why my mood gets a lift at the sight of him sitting at a desk in the corner.
He looks up from his homework, and his gaze settles on me for a second before returning to his paper with no reaction.
Luca and I talk with the youth center director, who has us fill out paperwork before we can get started tutoring. There are a few other volunteers, and they hop between desks whenever kids raise their hands.
I don’t wait for Dallin to raise his but go straight over to him.
His homework is covered in doodles, but none of the math equations have actually been worked on.
“I take it you’re of the camp that art is math?” I sit on the edge of the empty desk next to him.
He doesn’t even look up. “I’m of the camp that math is useless.”
“Ah. That’s a popular camp. How does your GPA feel about your views on math?”
He shrugs.
“Okay,” I say, “so you don’t like math, and you don’t care about your GPA. Whatdoyou care about?”
“You minding your own business.”
“Ouch.” I open my bag of Twix and take one out, starting to unwrap it. “That hurt kind of.” I take a big bite. “May I gently recommend choosing something else to care about? It’s just that I happen to be avoiding my own business right now because my business is a hot mess. So I’d rather mind yours.”
His eyes flick to the candy in my hand before moving away again. “Do you plan to just sit there bugging me?”
I nod and take another bite. “Orwe can work on those math problems, and you can get a piece of candy for every one you answer correctly.”
He considers me for a second, and I show him the bag in my purse as proof I’m willing to pay up.
“One piece for each problem?” he clarifies like I’m about to trap him in some complicated loophole.
“Eachcorrectproblem.”
He stares at me another second. “Fine.”
I smile and leave Dallin to the first math problem.
Luca’s leaning over another kid’s desk, helping him. The kid looks up at him, in awe.
I sympathize deeply.
I head over to help a girl with her geography homework for a few minutes before going back to check on Dallin.
He’s sitting back on the hind chair legs, spinning his pencil between his fingers.
“Gave up already?” I ask, prepared to eat another Twix to tempt him at another shot.
He doesn’t say anything, and I lean over his desk to take a look at the paper.
Every last problem has been worked on. I glance up at him. He doesn’t bother looking at me, so I start going through the problems to check his work.
Fun fact: Dallin thinks math is useless, but he’s good at it. Not one answer is incorrect, which means I owe him…half a bag of candy. He looks mighty pleased with himself as I count out and hand him piece after piece.
“How’d you get so good at math if you hate it?” I put my half-deflated bag of candy back into my purse.
“I don’t hate it,” he says. “I just don’t see the use in bothering with it.”
Sounds a lot like what he said about football. “Maybe youshouldbother with it because you’re a freaking math whiz.”
