Free Just Like the Movies by Kelly Fiore Page B

me. I glance back at Mr. Marsden, who’s just put in a pair ofearbuds and is rocking out to his easy-listening jams. Way to supervise, dude. I could be plotting a bank heist and you’d have no clue.
    â€œIs that all homework?” Joe asks, incredulous. I glance at the stack of books and papers I’ve piled on my desk and shrug.
    â€œSome of it. Some of it’s just extra stuff for the newspaper.”
    He shakes his head. “I can barely keep up with my classes and here you are taking on
extra
work. If you need some more, you can always have mine.”
    â€œThanks, but no thanks,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m already almost drowning in loose-leaf paper and textbooks.”
    We lapse into silence and I start working on my trig homework. Or pretending to work on my trig homework, that is. I can’t think when my heart is beating this hard—it’s like attempting to do math during an earthquake. When the whole world is shifting around you, you’re lucky if you remember your own name, let alone how to work out complex equations.
    â€œAre you taking trig too?” I finally ask Joe. He makes a face.
    â€œPrecalc. For the second time. I suck at math.”
    â€œMath isn’t so bad,” I counter. “I mean, it’s exact—not like English or music or something artistic. I hate when there aren’t right answers.”
    â€œWell, I’m terrible at it, exact answers or not.”
    I cock my head and look at him. His mouth lifts up into a half smile.
    â€œWhat?” he asks. “You’re looking at me like you want something.”
    God, how am I supposed to respond to
that
?
    Instead, I scoot my chair out and walk toward Mr. Marsden. He yanks out an earbud and glares at me.
    â€œMiss Spencer?”
    â€œI was hoping you’d let me help Joe out with his math homework. I’m really good at precalculus.”
    Mr. Marsden leans back in his chair and narrows his eyes. Then he shrugs.
    â€œAs long as you are working, I suppose it’s okay.”
    I beam at him. “Thanks.”
    I start back toward my desk and look at Joe, who’s gaping at me.
    â€œHow did you know I have precalc homework?” he asks, sounding amazed. “Are you psychic or something?”
    I laugh. “No, but I’ve taken the class. Ms. Owens is brutal, and she gave us homework every day of the week—even over weekends.”
    â€œSounds about right.” Joe nods. He reaches behind his chair and unzips his backpack, then pulls out his math book and a spiral.
    It occurs to me that I didn’t even ask him if he
wanted
help—maybe I’d offended him or something.
    â€œSorry, I probably should have asked you if you even wanted help.”
    â€œAre you kidding? Hell yeah, you can help me out—I’ve got to keep my GPA up for motocross. Otherwise I can’t compete.”
    â€œWell, okay then,” I say, pulling my graphing calculator out of my bag. Then Joe scoots his desk closer to mine, effectively blocking me in with his body.
    â€œThanks for this,” he says quietly. I meet his gaze and it’s as soft as his voice. “It’s kind of embarrassing to be this bad at something. Especially when you’re repeating the class.”
    I swallow hard and force myself to shake my head.
    â€œIt’s no big deal.”
    Before I realize what’s happening, Joe reaches out and tweaks one of the curls close to my face. When I look at him again, he grins.
    â€œIt’s a big deal to me.”

Just call me Matchmaker Marijke.
    Okay, don’t call me that.
    But still—I am
so
good at this already. Getting Lily stuck in detention was easy. The assistant principals are always prowling the halls after the bell. Getting Joe there, though, was harder. I pulled a
Steel Magnolias
and pretended I’d lost a contact on the floor and, chivalrous guy that he is, he’d done his best to help me find it.