Clever Girl

Chapter 13: "What's War and Peace, a video game?"

He doesn't walk away.

I'm reminded of the time before, when a strange silence had overcome him, and he had stared at me with no readable expression. Just like then, I don't know what he's thinking, and it annoys me. Is he joking with the apology? Is he setting me up for a prank? I wouldn't put it past him. The icy blue of this eyes sear through mine, and I blink a couple of times and turn away slightly, just to break the tension. It's becoming almost routine now, for him to seem almost lost, then a second later for his usual haughty demeanour to take over.

"So are we done here?"

He steps back and scowls at me, "Yeah, we're done here. See you at lunch, princess."

It'll be great not to have to hear some pretentious nerd call me 'princess' in a mocking tone every day. I walk backwards and give him a curt wave, equipped with a chipper smile, then walk away before he can react.

The morning evolves like any other at Apollo. Uneventful yet soul-crushing. Lessons trudge on as if the teachers are all one large monotone creature. One sound, muffled together in the ordinary air of society's expectations. Whenever I'm walking from classroom to classroom, it feels like I'm floating, like my consciousness is refusing to participate anymore, even if it's only for a few more hours.

How would they all react if I were to suddenly know all the answers? Raise my hand? Ace any pop quizzes I might have today, or be so bold as to correct teachers in the many times they have been wrong about certain facts? It might be funny, or it might make them angry. Deciding against any action that may draw attention, I sift through the crowds and the conversation, the minutes and the lessons unnoticed.

I don't think a single person will notice that I'm not here on Monday. That I won't be here for the rest of the school year. That I won't be at prom, or graduation. Maybe it's sad, to appear and disappear without the second-glance of a single person, but I can't let that overtake me. There are much more important things I'll need to worry about, like my parents' health and Matty's education.

As promised, Stella doesn't scratch out at me when she sees me in the hallways. In fact, none of Jay's friends even acknowledge my presence, which is exactly how it was before the tutoring started, and exactly how I like it.

Between classes I spot Will by his locker. I walk up and lean against the locker next to his, smiling.

"You're in a good mood. Can I have some of whatever you're on?" He looks a little down, not his usual upbeat self.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Just some shit I don't wanna deal with."

"You can talk to me, if you like. I'm a good listener."

"It's just... have you ever felt like everyone was leaning on you for literally everything?"

"Kind of... Is it your family, or your friends?"

"Both. Like, no one can do their own shit and I'm the punching bag.. But whatever, I'll tell you more about it some other time. See you tonight Ronnie."

I watch as he walks away, and I'm reminded again that leaving school means never seeing Will again. I make a promise to myself to not lose touch with him. Maybe we can hang out sometimes, and I can continue helping him with whatever he needs help with. He's probably the only part of Apollo that I'll miss.

By the time lunch rolls around, my mind is already far away from this place.

"So do you think we can get through today without your usual moodiness?" I ask as I take a seat across from Jay.

"Of course. Nothing is so necessary for a young woman as the company of intelligent men."

"It's the other way around."

"What's that now?" He says with a hint of a smirk.

Already extremely frustrated with his presence, I start pulling out my textbooks, "I said, it's the other way around. Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women."

He leans in, "How is it that a burnout failure like you can quote War and Peace?"

Think fast, Veronica. "What's War and Peace, a video game? We have that quote framed and hanging in our kitchen. If I had known it was from a video game I would've never let my mother hang it up."

"Video game, is that the best lie you can come up with? How long are you going to keep up this façade?"

"Façade? Here's a better question, how long until you stop obsessing? And I though you were sorry for how you've been treating me. Did you change your mind already?" I manage to calm myself down, thinking happy thoughts, like how I'll be able to work full-time starting Monday. How I'll be able to provide for my family without silly distractions.

He is close enough for me to see a fragment of my own reflection in his crystal blue eyes. He appears to be searching, like those eyes are scanning my face for an answer, a small clue that he might latch onto. He blinks and leans back, "Fine, you're right. I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"Good, now let's get this thing started."

"Since today's apparently your last day, why don't we just forget tutoring?"

Pleasantly surprised, I start stuffing my books back into my backpack. "Awesome, so I can leave?"

"No. Cranston told me the librarian will be monitoring us. We'll both have to stay. But we can just... talk, or something."

"Or something. I'll just read through one of my books."

Silence might just the be the best alternative to tutoring. I won't have to pretend like I don't understand the simplest of mathematical equations, and we won't have to converse. Edgar Allen Poe wrote that 'the true genius shudders at incompleteness – imperfection – and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.' That may be a little too profound for this moment, but if we should stay in this silence forever, never to resurface, that would be just fine. Though every once in a while I do catch Jay glancing up at me from his own book, perhaps trying to guess why I won't engage in our usually biting conversations. Or maybe he's wondering if this whole thing isn't just a bluff, that I might show up on Monday and laugh at the fact that he believed me. 

"How can I contact you?" His voice breaks the silence.

"What?"

"If you do quit, what's the best number to reach you?"

"Why would you need to reach me?" Like I would want to continue having tedious conversations with him. Not having to ever hear his voice again is one of the many perks of quitting. I glance at the giant clock above the entrance of the library, and am glad there's only five minutes left of this hell.

"In case... in case Cranston asks me to."

"If Cranston wants to reach me, my contact info's in my student file. There is no need for him to ask you."

"Can't you just give me your number?"