Cassie won't allow herself to get sidetracked. Her jaw hardens. "You know what you have to do." She goes to the sink to pour the rest of her juice down the drain and fills her glass with water instead. When she turns to me, she leans against the counter and waits. 

The seconds pass, with neither of us saying anything.

Cassie is the first to cave, with her shoulders slumping, and her hands falling to her side. Her voice breaks. "I can't always be here to pick up the pieces, Leila. I can't. You get hurt and you fall apart. It's too much for one person to be there all the time, not with everything else I'm dealing with."

I close my eyes, pained by the exhaustion I hear coming from her. "Fine," I say in a voice that's barely a whisper.

"Fine, what?"

"Fine, I won't accept rides with him."

She releases a long breath. "This is the right decision. Wait until you're older and everything that happened in Bantry isn't so fresh. Then you can get a real relationship and you'll see it's nothing like what you had with Jaime."

I nod and look down, not wanting to talk about this anymore. We lapse into silence until I suddenly remember what Nick said to me after science. "That day you had your accident," I call it that because I'm still not sure what actually happened. "Why didn't you tell me Nick offered you a lift home?"

Cassie stiffens. "How do you know him?"

"He's in two of my classes. He said he saw you limping on Drewry Road, but you refused."

"Leila, do me a favor and just keep your distance from all these guys. You don't need any male friends." She forces me to meet her gaze before she continues. "Jaime seemed nice too. We both fell for it. Don't make the mistake of falling for it again. Focus on making girlfriends instead. Like I do. Do you promise?"

When I don't respond, she repeats the question. "Do you promise me that?"

I end up nodding. There's nothing else I can do.

On Monday morning, as soon as I wake up, I text Will and tell him I need to drive myself. When he asks why, I tell him it's because I have to stay to see Mr. Wolburn for tutoring. It's true, even if it isn't the whole truth.

After school, I do what I've dreaded all weekend. With shoulders slumped, and hands curled into my hoodie sleeves, I walk into Mr. Wolburn's classroom for my math tutorial. He hasn't mentioned it since, but I know if I miss it this time, he won't go easy on me. He might even call Dad and tell him about the test he says I failed.

The tight ball of tension I've held all week in my stomach loosens when I realize I won't be here alone with him, after all.

Liz, the quiet girl from my English class who turned me down when I asked her for lunch, sits at the back. When our eyes meet, she sighs and her mouth forms a grim line.

Mr. Wolburn's smile widens as if the sight of me has made his day. His eyes travel over me the way they always do when I enter his classroom. "Come sit here beside Liz."

He takes the chalk and does an elaborate drawing of some 3D objects on the board to explain the logic behind one of the math concepts. I wonder if he might have had another career before this one that required drafting, with the time he wastes to make each shape perfect.

My misgivings slip away as the lesson progresses and he focuses on formulas and their solutions. That is, until after he gives us five minutes to work on an equation he scribbled on the board, he comes around to check on our work.

I can sense the moment he pauses behind me as if his body is a hot, oppressive shadow. He leans in and rests his hand on my shoulder, the scent of his coconut deodorant drifting to my nose. I stiffen, hating this. As he speaks, his thumb plays with my hair, circling until he's parted it to reach my skin. The entire time he stands there, too close, talking about math, his finger caresses the back of my neck, his touch light and feathery. Liz stares at that hand from the corner of her eye. 

I'm frozen, my breath caught in my throat until he moves onto Liz.

Only, with her, he perches on the desk opposite her and takes her paper to scan. "Have another go at three," he says, slamming it with a loud smack on the wooden surface. "You're being sloppy again with your multiplication."

At the end of the hour, Liz is quick to gather her stuff, but when she glances at me, slows to match my pace. I'm not dawdling. It's not like I want to be here with him. But I need things to be put back in their proper spots.

As Liz and I reach the door together, Mr. Wolburn calls out, "Just a word, Leila." He pauses as Liz stops too. "Liz, I'll see you tomorrow."

There's no question he's dismissed her.

Mr. Wolburn comes out from behind the desk to sit in front of me again. He's perched on the edge, his legs wide open as he nurses a water bottle. I wonder if he's ever without one.  

Liz hesitates for one long moment as she gives me a look so intense I feel queasy, before she turns and takes measured steps out of the classroom leaving me alone with Mr. Wolburn.

[Author's Note:

I missed the Monday installment. I'll make it up by releasing one this Saturday at 9:15. Thanks for continuing to read, vote and comment!]