Connor’s paper, at his nice, neat, worked-out solutions.
My phone beeped again. I could hear Connor’s mother shuffling around at the foot of the stairs, her footsteps and the clink of her keys.
I started scribbling.
I wasn’t worried about the teacher seeing that Connor and I had solved the problems in exactly the same way. She knew we worked together, and we were both A students, and we both knew our stuff when she called on us in class. Although it took me longer to get the material, I always did learn it eventually, and I could answer any question she might have about how I’d solved my problems. I had never just copiedblindly from Connor; he’d helped me figure things out. He’d taught me how to solve the problems myself.
Until now.
Enough, I told myself, as I packed my book bag for the next day and set it beside my bed. The calculus was done, and I wasn’t going to worry about it any more. I had plenty of other things to worry about—like having to wear an exploded marshmallow on my head and an asymmetrical pineapple dress on my body at Emily’s wedding. Like Gramps using up all the hot water tomorrow morning if I didn’t get in the shower first. And Gramps was hard to beat, since he didn’t sleep much and was always up by 5 a.m.
When I closed my eyes, I still saw equations, scribbled figures, variables. I had calculus poisoning of the brain, I told myself, rolling over in bed.
Hopefully, you didn’t need calculus to be a doctor.
• • •
On Wednesday, we got back our calculus exams. Connor and I both had our usual As. My paper said nothing about copying; the only mark on it was the A.
I stuffed my paper in my pack, and Connor and I walked over to the bridal shop. “I want you to see this monstrosity,” I told him.
“You’ll look fine.”
“Keep saying that. You have to see the dress now so you can prepare yourself. That way, you’ll be able to keep a straight face on the wedding day.”
When I came out in the pineapple concoction, complete with what Annie had called “the head thing” wobbling above my forehead, Connor looked up. He’d been sitting in a pink vinyl chair next to a three-way mirror, studying his shoelaces, but when I swept out of the dressing room, he lifted his chin.
“Well?” I said.
His eyes skipped over the dress and fixed right on my face. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
• • •
My grandfather turned out to have an unexpected appetite for brains—the chocolate-peanut-butter kind, at least. Connor and I came home from the bridal shop to find one lonely brain left in the box.
“I can’t believe they’re almost gone,” I said.
Connor peered into the box and smiled. “If you eat that, will you have no brains left?”
“Ha ha. You want to split this with me?”
“Nah, you go ahead.”
“Oh, come on. At least take the occipital lobe.”
He bit into one end of the brain I held up for him. I licked a stray thread of peanut butter from his lips and popped the rest of the candy into my mouth. He kissed me as soon as I swallowed.
“Break it up,” Gramps said, shuffling into the living room. “Where the hell’s the remote?”
“Haven’t seen it,” Connor answered.
Gramps squinted at him. “What are you doing here, anyway? Do you live here now? You ought to pay rent.”
Connor laughed, but his face flushed. I took his hand. “I’m at Connor’s just as much, Gramps.”
Gramps just grunted. I led Connor up to my room, where we had to keep the door open, but sometimes we could kiss a little before anyone passed my doorway.
Connor flopped on to the bed. “What’d you get in calculus?”
“A. You?” As if I didn’t know.
“A. See, I knew you could do it.” A grin spread across his face. “You must’ve been up all night Sunday.”
I took a breath, the peanut-butter brain seeming to have grown to a bowling ball in my stomach. “Not too late,” I said.
“The last one was tricky, wasn’t it? I heard a lot of people got it
My phone beeped again. I could hear Connor’s mother shuffling around at the foot of the stairs, her footsteps and the clink of her keys.
I started scribbling.
I wasn’t worried about the teacher seeing that Connor and I had solved the problems in exactly the same way. She knew we worked together, and we were both A students, and we both knew our stuff when she called on us in class. Although it took me longer to get the material, I always did learn it eventually, and I could answer any question she might have about how I’d solved my problems. I had never just copiedblindly from Connor; he’d helped me figure things out. He’d taught me how to solve the problems myself.
Until now.
Enough, I told myself, as I packed my book bag for the next day and set it beside my bed. The calculus was done, and I wasn’t going to worry about it any more. I had plenty of other things to worry about—like having to wear an exploded marshmallow on my head and an asymmetrical pineapple dress on my body at Emily’s wedding. Like Gramps using up all the hot water tomorrow morning if I didn’t get in the shower first. And Gramps was hard to beat, since he didn’t sleep much and was always up by 5 a.m.
When I closed my eyes, I still saw equations, scribbled figures, variables. I had calculus poisoning of the brain, I told myself, rolling over in bed.
Hopefully, you didn’t need calculus to be a doctor.
• • •
On Wednesday, we got back our calculus exams. Connor and I both had our usual As. My paper said nothing about copying; the only mark on it was the A.
I stuffed my paper in my pack, and Connor and I walked over to the bridal shop. “I want you to see this monstrosity,” I told him.
“You’ll look fine.”
“Keep saying that. You have to see the dress now so you can prepare yourself. That way, you’ll be able to keep a straight face on the wedding day.”
When I came out in the pineapple concoction, complete with what Annie had called “the head thing” wobbling above my forehead, Connor looked up. He’d been sitting in a pink vinyl chair next to a three-way mirror, studying his shoelaces, but when I swept out of the dressing room, he lifted his chin.
“Well?” I said.
His eyes skipped over the dress and fixed right on my face. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
• • •
My grandfather turned out to have an unexpected appetite for brains—the chocolate-peanut-butter kind, at least. Connor and I came home from the bridal shop to find one lonely brain left in the box.
“I can’t believe they’re almost gone,” I said.
Connor peered into the box and smiled. “If you eat that, will you have no brains left?”
“Ha ha. You want to split this with me?”
“Nah, you go ahead.”
“Oh, come on. At least take the occipital lobe.”
He bit into one end of the brain I held up for him. I licked a stray thread of peanut butter from his lips and popped the rest of the candy into my mouth. He kissed me as soon as I swallowed.
“Break it up,” Gramps said, shuffling into the living room. “Where the hell’s the remote?”
“Haven’t seen it,” Connor answered.
Gramps squinted at him. “What are you doing here, anyway? Do you live here now? You ought to pay rent.”
Connor laughed, but his face flushed. I took his hand. “I’m at Connor’s just as much, Gramps.”
Gramps just grunted. I led Connor up to my room, where we had to keep the door open, but sometimes we could kiss a little before anyone passed my doorway.
Connor flopped on to the bed. “What’d you get in calculus?”
“A. You?” As if I didn’t know.
“A. See, I knew you could do it.” A grin spread across his face. “You must’ve been up all night Sunday.”
I took a breath, the peanut-butter brain seeming to have grown to a bowling ball in my stomach. “Not too late,” I said.
“The last one was tricky, wasn’t it? I heard a lot of people got it
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