Chapter 8

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Aiden

The dome-sized food court at Wood Creek Mall overflows with noisy juniors and seniors who have cars and the money to eat here. Carved into the ceiling, a large skylight brings in the sunlight. A trapped bird chirps as it flies from one synthetic tree to another, trying to escape the grove of fake trees that all the chairs and tables circle around.

I follow Bree to the Greek gyro place, but I can't afford one of those. There's the Tex-Mex place next to it. I could buy a beef taco and a courtesy water. I pull out two worn-paper bills.

Bree watches. She must think I'm on welfare. Or too poor to buy my own lunch.

"Sorry...I totally blanked in the cafeteria. Forgot to mention I'm paying for lunch," she says. "It's the least I could do after trying to kill you yesterday."

Bree and I find a table under a fake tree. I dig into my cheesy nachos while Bree sinks her teeth into a plain gyro with extra meat and no sauce. The girl grunts as she chews, but I don't laugh. We eat for a while, and through the entire meal I have this weird feeling she's constantly watching me. I try to catch her doing it, but the girl skillfully tosses her eyes away milliseconds before my eyes can get there. It drives me insane. How does she do that?

So I stare at her. I dare Bree to look and not turn away.

Her eyes take the bait and snap on to mine.

I don't flinch. I don't look away. I keep my eyes trained on hers.

Bree stiffens. Leans forward. Her eyes grab on to mine. Pulling me.

My heart races. I feel the cold wood tabletop under my fingers as I grip it tighter and tighter.

Bree doesn't move a muscle. Her cheeks are still. Her lips separate, showing off her finely-polished teeth.

She's moved closer. How did I miss that? Is Bree creeping towards me? Or am I seeing things?

No, she's moving towards me. Amazing. So subtle you can barely tell.

What is she doing?

Bree snaps out of it. Leans back and smiles. "Ready to get started?"

I relax my death grip on the table and open my textbook.

We review chapter twenty-two. Bree asks a few questions, and I point to a problem.

"A rational function is the division of one polynomial function by another."

Bree's eyes glaze over.

"When graphing a rational function, you look at the x and y intercepts."

"Intercepts?" Bree asks, still not getting it.

"Yes, the intercepts. See the y intercept? This function doesn't mean anything because in this case, x equals zero. So there's no y intercept."

Bree absorbs my explanation.

"Does that make sense?"

Bree tenses up. Her mouth tightens into a sneer. Her arm blurs as it flings her algebra book off the table and across the floor. It slides about forty feet away from our table.

"None of this makes sense," Bree huffs with frustration.

Everyone in the food court watches. I fetch Bree's textbook and her notes from the floor. Bree stews as her body quivers. Amazing, I've never seen anyone get this upset over math.

"Let's take a break." I close my book and concentrate on cheesy-good nachos.

Bree opens her book and stares at the pages. "No, I must learn this."

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