Whatever Life Throws at You by Julie Cross Page B

eat in my room? There’s not as many bugs here as in Arizona.”
    Dad slides a book in my direction. Complete Guide to GED Preparation is written across the front. “Do you know any of this stuff?”
    “Probably not well enough, considering I haven’t graduated high school.” I lift the sandwich to my mouth. It’s almost too big for me to take a bite.
    Brody watches with interest. “That’s quite a sandwich.”
    “I’m carb loading,” I say with my mouth full. For Dad’s benefit, I flip open the book, leafing through the math section. I swallow the big bite before speaking this time. “It looks like pre-algebra, some basic geometry, maybe a little of algebra I.”
    Dad claps his hands together, looking pleased. “Great! You can help Jason study.”
    My eyes widen. What happened to the tutor plan? Or maybe I am the tutor?
    The amusement that came with watching me eat my sandwich drops from Brody’s face, and he stands up, pushing his chair back and taking the book out from underneath me. “That’s all right. I’ll figure it out.” He turns to Dad. “Thanks for the books and the extra practice.”
    Dad looks like he wants to say something but after glancing at me, changes his mind. “No problem. Come by again tomorrow if you want.”
    After Brody is out the door, Dad angles his chair to face me, staring hard. “That was rude, Ann.”
    “I didn’t say anything,” I protest, filling my mouth with more bread and meat to avoid this confrontation.
    “That’s the problem.”
    “Get real, Dad. He doesn’t want some high school kid teaching him equations. That’d totally bruise his ego.”
    “It wouldn’t if you were nice about it.” He stands up and shoves his chair back into the table and hobbles over to the sink to load the dishwasher. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have a parent who forces them to go to school and actually do well. Some kids get into trouble and have no one to help them out of it.”
    Is that what happened to Brody? He didn’t have anyone to answer to? My stomach sinks. The bread in my mouth goes down in one dry lump. There’s really no worse feeling than getting called out on your wrongdoings by your dad. He doesn’t toss up criticism lightly. In other words, he’s almost always right and it absolutely infuriates me. But today I feel a lot more guilty than angry.
    “Imagine if I didn’t have my high school diploma, Ann.” He lifts his non-leg as if I need a reminder. “The best I could do before this coaching gig was a fifteen dollar an hour job. Without that diploma, it would have been so much worse. Give the kid a break, would you?”
    My face heats up. When did I become so judgmental? “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize or something, okay?”
    He looks at me then turns back to the sink, shaking his head. “Forget it, Ann. I’ll get someone else to help him. Maybe Savannah.”
    I don’t know why, but the idea of Savannah and her much kinder disposition huddled close to Brody while discussing verb tenses bugs me. I reach for Dad’s phone on the table, find Brody’s number, and while his back is turned to me, I program Jason Brody’s into my phone.
    It takes me the rest of my sandwich and half the apple before I figure out what to text.
    ME: Just so you know, I’m barely pulling Cs in my class. Haven’t exactly been honest with my dad about this. So I’m probably not the best tutor—Annie Lucas
    I wait only three minutes for his one word—two letter—reply.
    BRODY: OK
    A little while later, I’m in the kitchen scarfing down the Doritos that I resisted earlier, when I spot, through the kitchen window, a blue convertible rolling down the street. A blond leggy (okay, I can’t see her legs, but I know they’re super long) girl probably five years older than me is behind the wheel. And in the passenger seat, one arm tossed across the girl’s seat, is Jason Brody.
    I roll my eyes, disgusted. That’s what I get for apologizing. I should probably warn Lenny about