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“Um, David,” I said, doing my best to hobble up to him as he headed for his car after school.
He turned to me, but didn’t say anything. Not that I expected him to.
“I could still use some help,” I said.
He glanced down at my leg.
“I mean with calc. I’m still so far behind—”
“You said something about paying me,” he interrupted.
“Oh. Okay.”
“You don’t have to pay me.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay.” The guy is simply incomprehensible.
He glanced at my leg again. “Need a ride?”
“My mom’s . . .” I checked my watch. I could still catch her. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. Let me just call her. I’m sure she’d rather keep working.”
His car is a two-door Mercury. Not the best situation for someone whose leg is in a brace. Finally we worked out me reclining in back with my bad leg on the seat and th
