Page 17 of The Do-Over
Thea smiled. “Yes,” she said.
“Yes, you agree it was rigged?”
“No,” she said. “I meant, yes, I’ll go on a second date with you.”
* * *
Rob hummed against Thea’s lips as he kissed her. “I love how your parents are never home,” he murmured.
Thea broke the kiss and laughed. “You just like taking advantage of that fact so that we can make out,” she said.
“That’s not it,” he said. “I mean, I don’t mind that part. But I like that we have privacy in general.” He ran his fingers through her hair gently. After two weeks of seeing each other, he had learned that her curls wouldn’t part around his fingers the way a straight-haired girl’s hair might, and he’d adjusted his touches accordingly.
“We’re supposed to be using this time to study,” Thea said gently, pulling out of his embrace. It was difficult. The last two weeks had been like something out of a fantasy, and it was hard to bring herself back down to earth, even though she knew it was important. “The SATs are in two weeks.”
“You don’t have to study for the SATs,” Rob said. “It’s an aptitude test, not a regular test.”
“Yeah, but I’m not like you,” she said. “I can only afford to take the test once.”
He frowned and looked away. Thea thought she knew why. They never talked about the difference in their financial situations. It was an uncomfortable topic, especially since they were really talking about their parents’ money and not their own. But Thea knew that Rob’s father was a wealthy attorney who could afford to sign him up for the SATs as many times as it took to get a good score. The same wasn’t true for her. It would cost her family dearly every time she tried.
And although Rob was right that it was an aptitude test, he was also wrong. Studying did help. Everyone knew that the kids who hired private tutors to help them prepare tended to do better. There were statistics on that.
Rob, she had discovered, just didn’t need to work as hard as she did. Like so much else, academics came naturally to him.
If she hadn’t loved him so much, she might have been bitter about that.
She picked up the flash cards and handed them to him. “Quiz me,” she insisted. “That’s what you came over for. To study.”
“I mean, that’s not really what I came over for.” But he flipped through the stack and held up the word censorious.
She read it. “It means, like, criticizing people.”
“That isn’t the word-for-word definition.”
“Well, I don’t need the word-for-word definition. If I understand what it means, I’ll be able to pick it from a multiple-choice test.”
“I’m not sure,” he teased. “Use it in a sentence.”
“Okay, I’m censorious of you interrupting my studying!”
And then, unable to help herself, she dived on top of him, sending him flat on his back on the bed. Her lips found his again, and his arms linked at the small of her back, and the flash cards lay forgotten on the floor beside them.
* * *
The calculus test bore a small D-minus in red and the note said see me after class. Thea felt as if her breath was coming too quickly. She thought she might pass out.
She’d never gotten a D-minus in her life.
This was going to absolutely tank her calc grade.
She was already running through scenarios in her head. Would she be able to do extra-credit work to make up for this? Could she switch to taking statistics and start over, or was it too late in the year? Could she simply drop this class?
She didn’t want to drop it. She wanted to learn calc. Only the top math students were admitted—you needed to score eighty-five percent or above in pre-calc your junior year—and she’d been so proud when she had qualified. How had she let this happen?
She waited until the rest of the class had left the room, then slowly approached Mr. Archibald’s desk.
He looked up. “Thea,” he said.
