Toy Soldiers (Helford #1)

(18) Studies

“It looks like a squiggly,” Jonathon muttered, angling the paper upward and tilting it to the right, squinting his eyes as if that would help him see more clearly. I bit back a laugh and gazed down at my own paper, although I as well was stumped. I hadn’t exactly been paying attention in my classes since it wasn’t essential that I was to pass them. I still managed to get decent marks, but I couldn’t say no when Jonathon asked me to have a study session in the school library one Wednesday afternoon for a mutual test.

The only problem was that the study guide was incomprehensibly blurry and Jonathon and I were spending most of our time trying to guess the symbols. I didn’t have the heart to even enlighten him that I didn’t know I was in Pre-Calculus until today.

He was still squinting at the sheet, looking discouraged. “Do you think it’s a division symbol maybe?”

“I honestly don’t have the slightest idea,” I admitted to him before sighing heavily and leaning back against the stiff couches decorating a sort of sitting room in the back room, made for study groups. I pulled one of the throw pillows onto my lap, playing absentmindedly with the tassels as I scowled at thin air. “This is frustrating.”

Jonathon sighed as well and slumped back in his seat, throwing an arm over the sofa behind me, his arm less than an inch from touching my shoulders. He leaned his head back and groaned, his eyes shut tightly. “I hate school. Why is it even necessary?”

“You’re asking me,” I muttered, shaking my head. I felt my hair skim his bare arm. “You’ll never use this again in your life. I promise. Not unless you want to be a math teacher.”

Jonathon hissed. I burst out laughing.

He shot me a satisfied grin and shifted ever-so-slightly closer, probably hoping I wouldn’t notice, but not only was I a girl but I was also trained to monitor even the slightest of movements around me, just another part of my training that made a normal part of life seem like a tactical measure. I fractionally inclined my head toward his shoulder, wondering if taking that step would be for the better.

Deciding that the move wouldn’t entirely be for the mission, I laid my head on his shoulder, and I felt him physically relax. His arm closed the inch between us, anchoring me to his side.

For a moment, I allowed myself to close my eyes.

“I missed you this weekend,” Jonathon murmured, so softly that it was obvious it was meant for my ears only. “Where were you?”

I could have told him that I was sitting outside of his residence, bored out of my mind but on an order to watch the neighborhood and learn some patterns of life. He would have laughed and I would have pointed out that his neighbor gets up at exactly nine thirty two every morning and makes eggs on a stovetop while dancing to the blues playing on the radio, but I figured that he still wouldn’t believe me. The truth, sometimes, was just too difficult to believe. Or too strange.

Reality was just something else entirely.

So I went with the lie, knowing that it would pacify him: “I was with my dad all weekend for his idea of bonding. That basically included sitting on opposite sides of the couch and pretending to watch the movie he put on, not talking.”