Page 49 of Every Thought Taken

“You study with Anderson?” Mom asks with another tilt of her head.

Play it cool, Helena.

“Yeah. He’s in a bunch of advanced classes. Some of them are pretty close to the curriculum in ours.”

Mom studies me with narrowed, unblinking eyes. The harsh scrutiny has me borderline nauseous. How she eyes me, examining every line and twitch of my face for confessions left unsaid. I don’t move or breathe as I try to relax my expression. Hour-long seconds pass as my skin heats further and a hint of perspiration dampens my face. She is searching for any hint of a lie. Thankfully, nothing I said is an actual lie. Omitting Anderson is my boyfriend… that is a topic for a different day.

“How’s he doing in his classes?” Mom asks.

I shrug. “He makes dean’s list or honor roll, but I didn’t ask after school today.”

“Fine,” Mom says. “You’re allowed to study with Anderson, but only if Alessandra or Magdalena are here too.”

Shit. She suspects. Keep it cool.

“Okay,” I reply with a nod. “Thanks, Mom, Dad.”

“We just want the best for you, Bug.”

I can’t argue with that. “I know. Sorry for being mean earlier. It’s just I’m already upset about the grades and it felt like I was being punished for not being good enough.”

Dad rises from his seat at the table. A second later, he stands a foot away. He yanks me forward and crushes me to his chest. “This is new to us too, Bug. But we’ll get through it and everything will be better soon.” He strokes my hair. “We got this.” He releases me and holds me at arm’s length. “Okay?”

I nod. “Yeah.” I peek over at Mom. “Okay.”

“This sucks,” Anderson mutters as we walk with Lessa to my house after school.

“Yep,” I say, popping theP. “Not like I had a better option.”

Anderson jerks to a stop and twists me to face him. “Hey. I’m sorry.” He tips his head back, stares at the dismal winter sky, takes a deep breath, then levels his gaze. “You have every right to hate this more than anyone.” He toys with my fingers twined with his. “But please, don’t hate me.” Bending slightly at the knees, he lowers to my height. “I want to help. However I can.”

I tighten my hold on him and tug him forward down the sidewalk. “Sorry I snapped at you. The whole situation has me frustrated.”

He leans into my side and presses his lips to my temple. “I get it. We’ll get you caught up and this will be behind us.”

I nod but say nothing further. Anderson is right. With a week or two of aggressive study sessions, I will be back on track. My grades will return to honor roll status in no time. Though I have a new routine, at least I still get time with Anderson. We may not be alone, but I will take any time over none at all.

“C’mon, North.” Anderson tugs me until we all but jog through the thin layer of snow to catch Lessa. “We’ve got a study date.”

Light laughter spills from my lips, but I feel no joy. A strange new pressure sits in the middle of my chest. A pressure that formed when my parents put their foot down and enforced better study habits. The heavy-growing weight isn’t strictly about school and improving my grades. No, there is something else mixed in with that tension. Something I can’t quite make out. Something itchy and uncomfortable and bitter.

I shove down the sensation. Push it aside for another day.

Only one thing matters right now. Doing better. Being better. Because failing isn’t an option.

CHAPTER28

ANDERSON

“Ican’t tomorrow, Ander,” Helena huffs out over the phone. “Or any other day this week.”

When I walked out of school this afternoon, the smile I’d worn for several months fell away. Ales and Mags stood on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around their middle, a small bounce in their stance as they waited for me to arrive. Helena, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight. I asked Ales where she was and she gave me the saddest smile before saying,“Her parents told her no more study dates and to come straight home after school.”

The entire walk home from school, I sent text after text to Helena. She ignored them all. Probably because she was studying and I was nothing but an interruption. After a fifth unanswered text, I stashed my phone in my pocket and told myself she would text after she was done studying.

Hours passed without any response. Focusing on my own homework had become a challenge. I checked my phone too many times to count. When I still hadn’t heard from her by the end of dinner, I decided to call her.

“You’re upset, I get it.”

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