The Tutor's Clause

Chapter 2

Thursday came faster than Simona wanted.

She got to the library at three fifty, picked a table in the back corner, and spread out her own notes like a shield. If George showed up late, she wanted proof she'd been ready.

He walked in at four on the dot.

"You're on time," she said, not hiding her surprise.

"Don't sound so shocked."

"I'm allowed to be shocked. You've never been on time for anything in your life."

"You don't know that."

"I know your reputation."

George dropped into the chair across from her, tossing a notebook onto the table. "Reputation's exaggerated."

"Is it?"

"Mostly."

She opened the notebook before he could stop her. Half the pages were actual notes. The other half were sketches, doodles, one full page of what looked like a boat.

"A boat," she said.

"It's a scull. For rowing."

"I know what a scull is."

"Didn't seem like it, judging by your tone."

Simona flipped the notebook back around so it faced him. "Page forty two. That's where we're starting."

"Straight to business."

"You have two failing grades and a scholarship riding on my patience. Yes. Straight to business."

George leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You really think forty hours of this is going to fix two years of not caring."

"I think it's going to fix one term of grades, which is all Voss asked for."

"That's not the same thing."

"I know. I'm not trying to save your soul, George. I'm trying to keep my scholarship."

Something flickered across his face at that, gone before she could name it.

"Fine," he said. "Page forty two."

They worked through the first problem in silence, mostly. Simona explained, George scribbled, got it wrong, tried again. On the third attempt he actually solved it.

"See," she said. "Not impossible."

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I'm allowed to be. You've never been on time for anything in your life."

"You already used that line."

"It's still true."

He almost smiled. Almost.

They kept going. Second problem, third. He was faster than she expected once he stopped performing boredom and actually paid attention.

"You're not bad at this," she said, halfway through the fourth problem.

"I know."

"Then why are you failing?"

The question landed wrong. George's jaw tightened.

"Doesn't matter."

"It kind of does. I'm supposed to figure out what's actually wrong, not just watch you solve equations for forty hours."

"Nothing's wrong. I just don't care about calculus."

"You cared enough just now to get it right on the third try instead of giving up after the first."

George set his pencil down. "Can we not do this."

"Do what?"

"The whole, let's dig into George's feelings thing. I'm not interested."

"I wasn't digging."

"You were absolutely digging."

Simona held up both hands. "Fine. No digging. Page forty three."

They worked another twenty minutes without talking, except for the actual math. It should have felt tense. It didn't, not exactly. More like two people who'd agreed to a truce neither of them trusted yet.

"Can I ask you something," George said eventually, not looking up from the page.

"Depends what it is."

"Why do you care so much about the scholarship. Like, actually care, not just, I need good grades, care."

Simona considered lying. Decided against it.

"My mother works two jobs so I could apply here," she said. "If I lose it, I don't just go back to my old school. I go back to being the reason she can't stop working two jobs."

George looked up at that.

"I didn't know that."

"Why would you."

"Fair."

"Your turn," she said. "Why do you not care about calculus, when clearly you're capable of caring about things."

He picked the pencil back up, turned it over in his fingers.

"Ask me something easier."

"That was the deal. I answer, you answer."

"I didn't agree to a deal."

"You just did, by answering mine."

George exhaled, something between a laugh and a sigh. "You're annoying."

"I've been told."

"Fine. Later. Not tonight."

"Later, then."

He nodded once, like that settled it, and went back to the problem set.

Simona watched him work for a second longer than she needed to, filing away the fact that he hadn't said never. Just not tonight.

That felt like something.

She didn't examine why it felt like something. Not yet.

"Page forty four," she said instead, and George groaned, and for the first time since Voss's office, the whole arrangement felt almost bearable.