Page 32 of All Your Pucking Secrets

At least I’m not wearing the necklace. I haven’t been able to bring myself to get rid of it yet. Not when so many complicated emotions are entangled in everything it represents. But I won’t wear it, especially not where he might see.

Another half-hour later, we decide we’ve done enough for one day. I pack my laptop into my backpack, along with my notepad, sling it over my shoulder and hurry out the nearest exit, surprised when Tyler doesn’t immediately follow me.

I’m halfway back to the dorm when I slip one of my cold hands into my pocket and stiffen as my fingers brush the corner of a folded piece of paper. Slowly, I draw it out.

The paper has a ragged edge from where Jin ripped it from his notebook to give to Tyler, who hadn’t brought anything to take notes on. It would seem he didn’t use the paper for our assignment.

Echo,

I haven’t given up on you. I won’t ever give up on you.

I’m letting you have some time to process, but we will talk about the past. We need to have that conversation. Both of us. So we can put it behind ourselves and move on.

We need closure.

~ Tyler XO

9

THE PAST

TYLER

Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I stare at the last question on the pop quiz that Mr. Harding surprised me with after school. The ticking of the clock seems abnormally loud in the otherwise silent classroom.

I chew on my lip. I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but if I get this wrong, it could ruin everything.

If I’d only known about this goddamn test, I might have been more prepared. I was only supposed to be collecting my grade for the essay I was allowed to resubmit, but when I arrived, he sat me down, put the test in front of me and told me to get started.

I should have seen this coming. Mr. Harding isn’t the kind of teacher who likes giving second chances. He was probably bullied into letting me redo the essay and this is his way of getting back at me for it.

The clock continues to tick.

Sweat soaks the hair at the nape of my neck.

I put pen to paper and fill in an answer for the final question, then I read over everything I’ve already written. My stomach churns and I regret having chugged down a protein shake before coming here. The liquid sloshes around in my gut, making me feel ill.

Ping! Ping! Ping!

The timer on Mr. Harding’s phone goes off. He uncrosses his legs from where he’s leaning against the desk, crosses to me, and reaches for the paper. I grab at it, desperately trying to recheck the last few lines, but he tuts.

“Time is up, Tyler. That’s it.”

I grit my teeth as he takes the paper back to his desk. He sits and picks up his red pen, holding it poised above the test as he goes through it. He frowns and makes a note, then glances up at me and back at the paper. I wriggle in my seat. What if I got it wrong? What if I only thought I’d gotten my head around this stuff?

How much does this pop quiz even count for? He hasn’t said. For all I know, he could be making it up as he goes along. My instincts tell me he is, and I want to protest, but considering he’s giving me special treatment already, I keep my mouth firmly shut.

“Hmm. Interesting.” He jots something at the top of the page and circles it, then raises his head. “Not a bad effort, Tyler. Nine out of ten. You lost half a point each for incomplete explanations of questions two and seven. You were on the right track but didn’t quite get there.”

All of the tension I’ve been holding in my body releases at once.

“I did well?” I ask, unnecessarily.

His nose scrunches, a line of irritation forming between his eyebrows. “I just said that, didn’t I?”

He gets to his feet, grasping the pop quiz in one hand and a file holding a few sheets of paper in the other. He passes them to me. My gaze skims past the test since he’s already told me my result and settles on the essay. Circled in the top right-hand corner of the front page, beside the title, is an A minus.

I close my eyes as relief overwhelms me. Tears prickle at the backs of my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.

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