heart went
out to him as he bit his lip, turned to me and said in a low voice, “I’ve never
been more scared in my life.”
Faking.
I didn’t know
what to say to that, even though I racked my brain. The sad look on his face-
it just pierced me right to the core. Everyone tells me I’m too softhearted.
Maybe that’s the reason I felt like crying as I looked at him, running his hand
through his hair. This was Luke Astor like I had never seen him before.
“Did they offer
you therapy?” I finally asked, remembering that when the illness was serious,
the hospital usually referred the patients to a therapy group session. It
helped boundless people. Maybe it would help Luke too.
“Yeah, I’m not
big on therapy,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m not going.”
I blinked.
“Why? They would help you deal with it! I’m sure it would be good for you,” I
told him. He gazed at me, an unreadable expression in his eyes.
“It’s a
personal reason,” he said.
In other
words, butt out, Nancy Drew.
My cue to
leave. “Um, I ought to be going,” I said, hesitantly getting up from the bed
and moving towards the door.
I braced
myself for another bout of singing, but Luke just gave me a lopsided smile and
wave. “Great. Thanks, by the way.”
For what?
What?
“No problem,” I
said ungracefully. And then the softhearted side of me kicked in and just
ruined everything. “Um, if you ever, you know, need a shoulder to cry-,” I
started, stumbling through my ‘I’ll be there for you’ speech. But maybe he
didn’t want me to be there for him! And what in God’s name am I doing,
offering him a shoulder to cry on?
“A shoulder to
cry on?” Luke asked incredulously, chuckling as he stared at me.
I ran a hand
through my hair nervously. “I mean- anyone to talk to- about anything- my aunt
says I’m a good listener and-.” Luke laughed harder as I decided to cut my
losses and get the hell out before I embarrassed myself further. Like that’s
even possible. “I’ll see you around,” I blurted and scurried out of the room,
Luke’s laughter ringing in my ears as I power walked down the hallway to the
daycare.
Why am I so
awkward around guys? No, scratch that. Why am I so awkward around Luke Astor?
Luke’s Point
of View
“Mr. Astor,
perhaps you can tell us what the answer is?”
Mr. Floyd’s
voice jolted me out of a deep doze and I groggily raised my head from my desk,
blinking blearily and trying not to yawn.
I felt like
crap. How the hell was I going to get through two months of this?
Mr. Floyd
pointed to an equation on the board, his face set in grim lines. He reminded me
of my dad so much I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from bursting out
laughing. I wasn’t scared that I would be looked at funny for just randomly
laughing like an idiot; I simply didn’t want my head to hurt more than it did.
Rubbing my eyes
with the heel of my palm, I tried to focus.
“Well? We’re
all waiting for your informed answer,” Mr. Floyd said, his voice dripping with
sarcasm.
People twisted
in their seats to stare at me and witness Luke Astor’s public humiliation at
the hands of his much loathed Math teacher. The old me would have cracked a
dumb joke, made everyone laugh and admitted that I had no idea what the answer
was. The new me felt so slow, so totally out of it that it was all I could do
to stop myself from going back to sleep
“Uh-,” I
started, scratching my chin and trying to look like I was really thinking. The
pretense didn’t work. Wendy, who was sitting in front of me, tittered behind
her hand while Ahmed turned his laugh into a cough. With friends like these...
Mr. Floyd
scowled at me, acting like I was the first person who couldn’t answer his
notoriously difficult equations.
“I thought
not,” he muttered loudly. He looked directly at me, catching me right in the
middle of another yawn. “I realize that trigonometry isn’t very interesting,
but
out to him as he bit his lip, turned to me and said in a low voice, “I’ve never
been more scared in my life.”
Faking.
I didn’t know
what to say to that, even though I racked my brain. The sad look on his face-
it just pierced me right to the core. Everyone tells me I’m too softhearted.
Maybe that’s the reason I felt like crying as I looked at him, running his hand
through his hair. This was Luke Astor like I had never seen him before.
“Did they offer
you therapy?” I finally asked, remembering that when the illness was serious,
the hospital usually referred the patients to a therapy group session. It
helped boundless people. Maybe it would help Luke too.
“Yeah, I’m not
big on therapy,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m not going.”
I blinked.
“Why? They would help you deal with it! I’m sure it would be good for you,” I
told him. He gazed at me, an unreadable expression in his eyes.
“It’s a
personal reason,” he said.
In other
words, butt out, Nancy Drew.
My cue to
leave. “Um, I ought to be going,” I said, hesitantly getting up from the bed
and moving towards the door.
I braced
myself for another bout of singing, but Luke just gave me a lopsided smile and
wave. “Great. Thanks, by the way.”
For what?
What?
“No problem,” I
said ungracefully. And then the softhearted side of me kicked in and just
ruined everything. “Um, if you ever, you know, need a shoulder to cry-,” I
started, stumbling through my ‘I’ll be there for you’ speech. But maybe he
didn’t want me to be there for him! And what in God’s name am I doing,
offering him a shoulder to cry on?
“A shoulder to
cry on?” Luke asked incredulously, chuckling as he stared at me.
I ran a hand
through my hair nervously. “I mean- anyone to talk to- about anything- my aunt
says I’m a good listener and-.” Luke laughed harder as I decided to cut my
losses and get the hell out before I embarrassed myself further. Like that’s
even possible. “I’ll see you around,” I blurted and scurried out of the room,
Luke’s laughter ringing in my ears as I power walked down the hallway to the
daycare.
Why am I so
awkward around guys? No, scratch that. Why am I so awkward around Luke Astor?
Luke’s Point
of View
“Mr. Astor,
perhaps you can tell us what the answer is?”
Mr. Floyd’s
voice jolted me out of a deep doze and I groggily raised my head from my desk,
blinking blearily and trying not to yawn.
I felt like
crap. How the hell was I going to get through two months of this?
Mr. Floyd
pointed to an equation on the board, his face set in grim lines. He reminded me
of my dad so much I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from bursting out
laughing. I wasn’t scared that I would be looked at funny for just randomly
laughing like an idiot; I simply didn’t want my head to hurt more than it did.
Rubbing my eyes
with the heel of my palm, I tried to focus.
“Well? We’re
all waiting for your informed answer,” Mr. Floyd said, his voice dripping with
sarcasm.
People twisted
in their seats to stare at me and witness Luke Astor’s public humiliation at
the hands of his much loathed Math teacher. The old me would have cracked a
dumb joke, made everyone laugh and admitted that I had no idea what the answer
was. The new me felt so slow, so totally out of it that it was all I could do
to stop myself from going back to sleep
“Uh-,” I
started, scratching my chin and trying to look like I was really thinking. The
pretense didn’t work. Wendy, who was sitting in front of me, tittered behind
her hand while Ahmed turned his laugh into a cough. With friends like these...
Mr. Floyd
scowled at me, acting like I was the first person who couldn’t answer his
notoriously difficult equations.
“I thought
not,” he muttered loudly. He looked directly at me, catching me right in the
middle of another yawn. “I realize that trigonometry isn’t very interesting,
but
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