"I thought that was a one-day thing?"
"Nah, Whore Cat is making me do it all week," I lied.
"Oh," he said, still distracted. "I can't come over anyway."
"You sure?" I asked.
"Too big of a risk. It's better if I just go home."
I didn't pry. I knew from personal experience that the last thing he needed was me nosing into his business. We spent the rest of lunch in silence. After awhile, he seemed to relax a little, and his shoulders didn't droop quite as much. Like I said, we were silent comforters.
"See you tomorrow," I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.
"See ya," he said, heading toward the science building.
My afternoon classes dragged after lunch, and I found myself watching the clock more than normal. It loathed me to admit that I was excited about tutoring. It was like someone had granted me an hour in Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory. It was wrong to think of it like that, but for the brief hour, I was allowing my feelings a pardon from the tight lockdown I normally kept them under. For one hour, I was going to let myself talk to someone in something other than one-word answers. For one hour, I was going to enjoy myself. I was going to be normal.
Dean was waiting for me at the same table as yesterday, only he was already sitting on the side we had shared.
"Hey, ready for some more World War II?" he teased.
"Uh, sure," I said with a mouth that felt like it was suddenly stuffed with peanut butter.
I discreetly moved my chair over to put distance between us before sitting down. I pulled out my book and the crumbled study guide. I should have been embarrassed at its wrinkled state, but I kind of enjoyed seeing his reaction.
"Okay, we left off on question twenty-nine," he said, smoothing out the paper.
I looked down at the table wanting to smile more than I had in years. Something about his expression made me almost happy, and his obsessive-compulsive behavior was kind of cute.
We spent the first half an hour of tutoring much like the previous day. Dean would read the question in his radio voice, and then provide the correct answer while I jotted it down. I never enjoyed schoolwork like I did at the moment. Maybe that's where the school system had effed up. They should have hired radio personalities to teach the classes. Grades were bound to skyrocket.
"So, what college are you going to?" Dean asked out of the blue after asking me which city suffered the most devastation after the war.
"What?" I asked confused, forgetting the answer I was jotting down.
"Got a college picked?" he repeated.
"No," I answered shortly, looking back at the textbook for the right answer.
"'No,' you haven't picked one, or 'no,' you don't know where you want to go?" he asked, pointing at the answer in the book.
"No, as in no college in their right mind would be interested in a student like me," I said.
"Sure they would," he said, looking at me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable.
"It's not like I have any interest in going to college anyway," I said sarcastically, pulling my shield firmly in place.
"I'd help you. You know, tutoring and helping you study for exams."
"What is this, save-a-loser day?" I asked, making it clear I wanted the conversation to be over.
"You're not a loser," he said, looking like I had offended him somehow.
Someone at a nearby table shushed him.
"I am, and guess what? I don't give a shit. Got me? I'm a nobody. You don't need to save me. No one does," I said.
My tone took the wind out of his anger. "I can help you," he repeated calmly.