Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Sara
“Dad! Are you kidding me?”
I’m scrambling around the kitchen like a cricket that’s accidentally been let loose indoors.
I grab my blazer slung on the back of a kitchen chair, then hop two inches left and dive for my shoulder bag.
Did I remember to put on deodorant? I sniff and—yes.
All good. Dad just watches me from his seat at the table.
“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” I go on. “I’m gonna be late for my test!”
Dad sets his coffee down. “You’re a grown adult, Sara. You should be waking me up.”
I pause in the middle of tying my shoe. How does that even make any sense?
“Oh, so now I’m a grown adult? But the other night when I wanted—”
“You’re late!” Dad interrupts, skirting around my argument. “Hurry up!”
I came home from studying at Joe’s before Dad arrived home from the office.
This was an intentional move on my part.
Dad trusts Mr. Yang—we’ve been neighbors for years—but he does not know that Mr. Yang’s two sons now live with him.
If he did know, I’m sure I’d get a lecture faster than you can say inverse hyperbolic functions.
Oh yes, that’s right. I retained some calculus last night. I even stayed up late reviewing on my own in my bedroom. How’s that for priorities, Subwayboy?
I shrug my bag around my shoulder, about to slip out the door, when my dad says, “And don’t forget, if you don’t pass your test, you can’t go to the school festival tonight.” He raises his coffee to his lips. “And no TV for a month.”
Wow, as if I didn’t know this already. Good thing he has no idea I failed yesterday’s pretest.
“Gee, great words of encouragement, Dad. Thank you.”
“Have an amazing daaaaay!” he singsongs as I leave.
No pressure. I simply have to pass a real calculus test or forgo attending the festival with Joe and Vicky, which is all I’ve been looking forward to since I joined Newspaper Club.
As I tug the door closed, I hear shuffling from behind me. I look over my shoulder and find Oliver locking his apartment, a granola bar clenched between his teeth.
“Good morning,” I blurt, suddenly frazzled in his presence.
“Uh,” he starts, removing the granola bar. “Morning!”
Huh. Polite interaction achieved. Who knew?
Maybe coming clean yesterday did help.
And then I remember—oh crap. The calculus test!
I race to the elevator. “I’m running kind of late,” I say as I smash the Down button.
Oliver saunters over, peering over my shoulder. Why is this the morning the elevator is slower than usual? I keep jamming the button with my palm, as if this will speed up its arrival.
It doesn’t. Lucky me.
Then I realize Oliver is alone.
I toss a glance his way. “Is Joe coming?”
“Nope, he’s already at school.” He raises his eyebrows. “Because you have that test first period.”
With a melodic ping, the doors open. Hallelujah! Finally!
“Yeah, I’m aware—that’s why I just said I’m running late—but thanks for the reminder.”
Once we step inside, I hit the Lobby button approximately twenty thousand times. Then, because I am tortured by modern technology, the doors take their sweet time sliding closed.
“You know,” Oliver begins lazily, “that won’t make it go any faster.”
I jerk my hand away from the button. “Right.”
With a low groan, the elevator starts its descent. I tap my foot anxiously, hoping it won’t stop for anyone else so we can get down faster. Oliver eats his granola bar, and I rack my brain for something to say so the silence isn’t awkward.
“So, the festival is tonight,” I say, angling my head so I’m looking at him. “That’ll be fun. You know, because of newspaper and everything.”
Oliver swallows a bite, then says, “Ah, well, only if you pass your test—right?”
“Yes, right.” I swing my shoulder bag off my shoulders and let it thump to the floor, then tug my arms through my blazer. “I know that.”
“So, was Joe a better tutor for you, then?”
I’ve crouched to pick up my bag, and am rising to my full height as our gazes lock. He’s wearing an expression so neutral you might as well call it taupe. He’s not a closed book; he’s a safe that’s welded shut. How am I supposed to answer that?
“Joe? Yeah—he’s great! So smart and all,” I say, and then find that I cannot. Stop. Talking. “Incredible, really. But, um, you already know that.”
A nervous laugh burbles from my lips. Oliver gives me sidelong stare that’s equally unperturbed and cool. Is it weird that I miss his laugh? Because I do.
“I guess we’ll see how it goes after I take this te—”
Clang!
A rumbling under our feet causes us to sway into each other. Our shoulders bump. When we restabilize, my eyes jump to his just as the lights flicker.
The elevator does not move.
The doors do not open.
And, most importantly, I do not panic.
But Oliver does.
“Wha—what was that?” His hand leaps to his chest, and his voice sounds airy and flustered. “What’s with the lights? Why did we stop?”
I jam the Lobby button again. “Oh, don’t worry. This elevator is old. It does weird stuff all the time.”
Oliver pales. “Weird stuff?”
Huh, usually that works. Now, I punch a series of buttons, tapping them in curt repetition. Come on, elevator. Not today. I can’t miss this test!
“It’s not working because you keep doing that,” Oliver snaps, gesturing to the control panel. “Stop!”
“You’ve got to trust me.” I move my finger from the Lobby button to the Door Open button. “I’ve gotten stuck in here a bunch of times before—”
“Stuck?” Oliver’s back hits the wall and his arms are spread wide, one hand still grasped around his granola bar. “No, please don’t tell me we’re stuck.”
Perspiration beads along his temples. His chest rises and falls in rapid succession. I’ve never seen him this nervous.
I turn back to the panel. If I press the Emergency button, it’s gonna take service forever to get here, and then I’ll for sure miss my test. I know I can fix this. I just have to keep Oliver calm while I do.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I reassure him. “Are you claustrophobic?”
Instead of answering, he gives me a terrified look.
Okay, so that’s a yes.
“Just pretend you’re at the beach and leave the rest to me—I know some good tricks. You have to keep pressing this combination.” I use the heel of my shoe for extra pressure, then shift to my other foot to give the button a swift kick. “Like this.”
The elevator jounces. With a heavy lurch, we continue our final descent and, a second later, the doors open. Freedom!
“See?” I spin toward Oliver. “All good!”
Oliver’s still backed into the corner, frozen in timid panic. Perhaps he needs a minute.
I leap from the threshold, exiting. “All right, well, gotta run! Wish me luck on my test!”
There’s no time to wait around for his reply, so I rush toward the double doors. But just as I’m approaching them, I hear him call, “Good luck, Sara Lin!”
Pivoting around, I find him standing on the other side of the elevator doors, which are rattling closed behind him. His tousled golden hair flops across his forehead as he tips his chin, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. Shy, but it’s there. Oliver believes in me!
“Yes! Time to pass this stupid test!” I holler, my voice echoing through in the empty lobby.
Who cares if I’m loud? I’m about to seize these numbers by the ankles and shake them until the correct answer appears on the page.
And with this newfound determination, I sprint out of the building.
I swear I hear Oliver laughing as I dart away.