Chapter 2: Wednesday

He ignores my comment and turns his attention back to the class. Without explaining the answer, he carries on as if nothing happened. Another hour passes, and I rest my head on my hand, barely holding myself up, eyes fixed on Mr. Adkins as he talks.

 

He might be an asshole, but at least he's a good-looking one. I wouldn’t call him hot, like my classmates do—his awful personality drops his attractiveness by about 80%. But that remaining 20%... His dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and sharp features are reminiscent of Peter Badenhop and Sahib Faber.

 

He’s always in a black business attire, hiding his build but not the fact that he’s athletic. His muscles flex whenever he writes, and the stubble on his jaw is always perfectly trimmed.

 

The worst part? He knows he’s attractive. That just makes him more unbearable.

 

When the bell rings, the whole class stays seated. They always do with him. He gives an order, and everyone follows.

 

He turns to face us, scanning the room with a sharp gaze. Lina sits up straighter, flipping her hair in a flirtatious gesture. Meanwhile, I stay slouched, staring back at him with exhaustion. My brain’s fried from trying to keep up with material I don’t understand.

 

"You can leave. I will see you on Wednesday. Do your homework," he commands.

 

Everyone stands up at once. I shoot a pleading look at Hannah, who gives me a sympathetic smile as she gathers her things. I am so jealous. Looking around, I stand up slowly. Maybe if I am sneaky, he won't notice me leav-

 

But our eyes meet, and I sit right back down. So much for that.

 

Hannah looks at me with pity before leaving with the rest of the class, and I’m left alone with Mr. Asshole.

 

He’s sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop, completely ignoring me. I sit at my desk, twirling my pen and staring out the window where freedom feels agonizingly close. Time passes slowly.

 

It's almost peaceful, just the two of us. Almost.

 

"Come here," Mr. Adkins suddenly orders, making me jump. I was so entranced by the wind weaving through the grass that I almost forget where I was. Almost.

 

I stand up reluctantly, grabbing my bag, and walk over to his desk. He keeps typing, not even acknowledging my presence, and I contemplate grabbing his laptop and throwing it out of the window.

 

When I can't take it anymore, I click my tongue and 'accidentally' bump my hip against his desk.

 

His head snaps up, eyes dropping to where my hip is pressed against the desk before slowly moving up to meet my gaze. I can feel him judging me—probably assessing my outfit. Today, I’m wearing my favorite jeans and a fitted top with long sleeves, looking my best despite feeling drained.

 

"You need to do better, Norali. Exams are coming up," he says, like I don’t already know that.

 

"Yes, sir," I respond, my voice icy.

 

"Do your homework for Wednesday. I expect a good grade this time," he adds, his eyes still on me, scrutinizing.

 

"Yes, Mr. Adkins," I reply, keeping my responses short, hoping this will end faster.

 

He stares at me for another moment and I feel the tension in the air rise. It prickles the air like a live wire. He turns back to his laptop before it explodes.

 

"Can I go now?" I ask, tension crawling across my skin. "Please," he mutters, clearly annoyed, eyes glued to his screen.

 

I don’t waste a second, practically running out of the classroom.

 

When I finally reach the parking lot, Mason is already waiting for me in our car. "Hey, baby sis. You’re late," he says, starting the engine as I climb into the passenger seat.

 

I glance at the time on the dashboard. Mr. Adkins kept me for half an hour. "Yeah, sorry. I had some catching up to do," I mumble. Mason has no idea what a jerk Mr. Adkins is to me. I’ve made sure to keep it that way—I don’t want to put him in an awkward position.

 

We’ve kept the fact that Mason is my brother a secret for two years. Every morning, he drops me off at the corner, and after school, when most students are gone, I hop into the car with him. We drive a black Volkswagen, a car many people have, so no one connects the dots.

 

"Any fun lessons today?" I ask as I run my fingers through my hair.

 

"Nope. All the students were shitheads today. They’re nervous about the upcoming exams," Mason replies.

 

I nod. "Yup. Same here."

 

Mason ruffles my hair—something I hate—and pats my shoulder. "Don’t stress, Li. You’re going to rock this. I know it," he says, full of confidence.

 

If only I had as much faith in myself.

 

When we reach our house, Mason parks the car but heads straight to the house next door. "I’m going out with Esme tonight. That cool?" he asks, turning back to me.

 

"Of course. Have fun!" I smile.

 

That evening, I decide it’s finally time to put some effort into math. I spend hours reading through my textbook, but the more I read, the more confused I get. I haven’t written any notes, and even G****e isn’t helping. Frustrated, I throw the book across the room. I need help. Maybe Connor can tutor me.

 

Connor’s in another class, but he’s the only other person who can’t stand Mr. Adkins. He’s one of the popular guys—good-looking, with girls chasing him. Maybe that’s why he dislikes our math teacher so much—he sees him as competition. Still, as I check the time, I figure it can all wait until tomorrow.

 

On Tuesday, I decide to avoid thinking about math altogether. It helps that Mr. Adkins isn’t at school today. Every Tuesday, he goes to his main job as a manager at an international trade company. The school had a shortage of teachers and asked local businesses for help. Apparently, he turned them down several times until they offered him a salary too good to refuse.

 

I wish he had stuck to his refusal. He might be good at math, but he’s no teacher. That much is clear.

 

But by Wednesday, I’m back to square one, completely stuck. "Are you sure you can’t help me?" I beg Hannah as she leans against the classroom door, grinning.

 

"Nora, I’m barely keeping up myself. I won’t be able to teach you from scratch. You’ll have to ask Mr. Adkins," she says, patting my shoulder and tilting my chin up. "If you say ‘please’ and flash a smile, I’m sure he’ll help."

 

"Are we talking about the same person?" I groan.

 

She laughs, pulling me in for a hug. "Just be nice to him, Nora. It’ll be fine."

 

Her laugh is contagious, and I can’t help but smile back. I tug on her long blonde hair playfully. "I’ll try. That’s all I can do."