The Art of Being a F*ck Up

8. No Good Deed

One good thing can be said about this monumentally bad idea—it's already been almost a month and Maddy and I haven't resorted to murdering each other with our bare hands yet. I won't pretend like it's been smooth sailing either, I think it's mostly our mutually beneficial arrangement that keeps this little experiment from imploding, even when she let's a sideways comment slip every now and then. As for me, I've been pretty good at just letting it go, because for all the reservations I had about getting involved with her again I can't deny the noticeable improvements I've seen since she started tutoring me.

That seems well worth having to grin and bare a stray bitchy remark, but mostly I'm just glad to have given Jonah back to himself so that he can actually focus on something that will make him happy. It was an awkward conversation, telling my boyfriend that me and the ex-girlfriend I cheated on with him were going to be spending a lot more time together, but he was very mature about it. He hates any second I have to be around her, and honestly who could blame him, but in the end we both agreed—in not so many words—that there weren't many other choices. I'll say it again, I'm not blind, I know he has to be relieved now, so I'm willing to do this for him.

"You need to focus, I didn't agree to do your homework for you, can you at least try to put in some effort?" A pair of fingers snap in front of my face, forcing me back into reality. It's a beautiful day, and even in late autumn the sun over here on the west coast still shines down warmly on Maddy and I as we sit sprawled out on the quad. There are so many things I'd much rather be doing right now—like Jonah—but she doesn't seem capable of appreciating that. "If you won't even try then I'm not going to waste my time."

"I am, see? I rechecked my equations like you said." I push my notebook across the ground towards her so she can check all the adjustments I made. I'm still struggling like always, that hasn't changed, and I don't think that Maddy or even Jonah could ever fix that. Now, though, with her helping me, it feels manageable, like instead of drowning I've learned to tread water.

"Better, you somehow got most of them right, but you know what I find funny? The rest of these are all mixed up, like this one here," she points to a spot on the paper, "you literally calculated everything correctly, but you switched around the numbers in the answer?"

"So?"

"So how is that even possible?"

"Maybe if you weren't rushing me there wouldn't be any mistakes." After I snatch the work back from her I start erasing it furiously. Of course she found all the mistakes she was diligently looking for, I can't help feeling as though she's rooting for me to fail. I am glad I did this for Jonah, don't get me wrong, and I do think it was the best choice given the circumstance, but it still sucks having to put myself through this when I've already been so low.

"Don't get snappy, I was only asking," Maddy mutters. This last month hasn't been any different than the one before, and all I want is to get through this thing with her, but she doesn't make it easy as she muses loudly to herself. "This reminds me of that time in tenth grade, you remember? We had that one teacher—god, what was her name—she was the worst. I'll never forget the look on your face when she yelled at you in front of the whole class and said you belonged in special ed."

"No, I don't remember that, but thank you for bringing it up." I lie through my teeth, embarrassed. Of all the things she could remember, it has to be something like that? When I think about Maddy I think about how she used to take ballet and loved to dance, about how happy she was doing cheer. There was plenty of bad stuff too, but also a lot of good, I guess I shouldn't have expected her to see any of that good in me after our breakup. "Can we get back to the homework though, please?"

"We could, but you haven't fixed any of your mistakes yet. Take another look," she waits, her gaze boring holes through me as I scour my work for whatever issues I'm supposed to be fixing. The pressure's on though and I fail to find my flaws, which is ironic, since I'm sure she'd say that's always been my problem. After I shrug and give up, pushing the paper away, she sighs loudly and tears the page out completely, crumpling it up. "Perfect, then we'll have to start all over again."