I don't assign any work for Rion to do during history. Instead, I give him a couple textbooks about the world wars and tell him to study for the museum trip. Rion's voice is still kind of dry, so I don't try to talk to him much. The period passes by swiftly, and soon, the hallways fill with people. I stand and head down the hallway. Rion is already lost in the crowd, and I can only hope he'll show up after school. Yesterday, the bell interrupted my convincing him, so I can only assume he won't, but that's alright. I have a game plan, and it may or may not involve me waiting near his truck until football practice ends.
I step out of the school with my headphones around my neck and my heart thrumming with nervousness. I'm not used to meeting up with people after school, especially people who don't like me. Maybe I'm also feeling this way because it's Rion I'm waiting on.
I spot his stupid, obnoxious truck parked in a row of similarly stupid, obnoxious rich-kid cars. There's a couple Jeeps and a Tesla nearby. I meander down the sidewalk, pulling my phone out and pretending to busy myself. It'll be easier while everyone else is gone, but for now, I'm reduced to an awkward bystander, occasionally looking up to see how many people have left. In the meantime, I start looking up the links to some potential sources for my essay, since I have nothing better to do.
Eventually, about a half hour later, the parking lot is completely empty save for the cars around Rion. I wander over and look around, making sure no one is nearby. I hear the faint sounds of movement in the field, but apart from that, it's dead. I put a hand in my pocket and lean against the front grill of his truck.
As my battery drains and time goes by, I begin to feel bored, so I text Tao. He responds immediately and we get to talking. Apparently, his bus is being delayed by traffic, so he's just as bored as me.
"Dude, what the fuck?"
I look up. Rion is standing in front of me with his bag on his shoulder. Behind him, a bunch of boys push each other around. I am suddenly rather scared and stare back like an idiot.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
"Waiting for you...?"
One of the boys stops and scoffs, "Someone going on a date?"
Rion doesn't even blink. "Shut the fuck up, Trevor."
Trevor slithers away, his friends patting him on the back semi-empathetically. Rion fishes for something in his pocket and pulls out a key fob. His truck clicks once. He brushes past me. "Get in."
I go to the passenger side and open the door, holding my backpack by one strap. It's a step up, and I use the handle to hurl myself in, tossing my backpack in the back row. Rion slams his door and jabs the button to start the engine. It purrs to life, so powerful I almost feel the seat vibrate underneath me. Rion throws his backpack behind him and puts his hand on the gear shift, jamming it into reverse.
"You know what was fucking awesome?" He puts his hand on the back of my seat to reverse, ignoring the camera that comes onto the screen. "My life before I met you."
"I think you need to learn your priorities."
"Yeah, I have no priorities anymore except the shit you give me."
I smile.
He retracts his arm and turns the wheel to straighten the truck. He heads down the parking lot, slowing to let a stray boy pass. There's silence for a moment as he focuses on the turn into the road. Then, he says, "You're lucky I know where the museum is. I wouldn't be driving you if I didn't."
"So that means we're going?"
"Yes," he grits out. "Just don't take too long. I need to study."
"You're strangely accepting of this whole tutoring thing."
"If I have to go, I'll go. If I have to do homework, I'll do homework. I'm not losing football."
"I get that. You couldn't pry my binder from my cold dead hands."
"You're not wearing a seatbelt. Those hands of yours might become cold sooner than you thought."
"I'm already half dead, I doubt they can get much colder."
"Really? Is that why you kill the energy in every room you walk into?"
"I regret trying to be polite."
"You're a motherfucker."
"Your mother christened me with that title last night."
His flicker to mine, and I see the disbelief in his eyes. His lips curve up in the hint of a smile, but he masks it with a mocking smirk. "I'm sure she loves going for history nerds like you."
"Yes, she loves them so much she raised one. You don't have to pretend to be a brainless jock in front of me. I'm sure your friends would hate to see how high your IQ actually is."
"I don't have a high IQ, I have a photographic memory."
"Oh, so you came preinstalled with an excuse when your teachers in middle school pulled you aside and asked if you cheated?"
His hands clench around the wheel. "That's fucking creepy."
"It explains the drive for low grades. It became bothersome when teachers got suspicious, so you decided to lay low in high school. Pair that with the popularity you obtained from your charming personality, perfect looks, and athletic abilities, you're destined for the suburbs in the state you're in. If you'd used your memory to your advantage, you would be an early accepted student at Harvard or Stanford or some other top college. Still, your future jobs will love you."
"Stop," he mutters.
"It's sad, really. It's not a failure of yourself, but rather a failure of the environment you were raised in. You could have had it all, but instead, your teachers probably pushed you down. Did you feel guilty at all for your memory? Is that also why you tried to get lower grades? Because you think of it as cheating just like everyone around you, and you've been raised to look down on people who don't need to put in any effort for their success?"
"Stop."
"I'm just saying, and I'm shutting up now, that with gifts comes the wrapping that you have to throw away. Maybe it's time to throw it away."
Rion breathes heavily. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "You don't know me. You aren't going to know me. As soon as this is over, you're out of my life. Permanently. I don't need you, I never wanted—" He sucks in a breath. His eyes cut into the windshield. He stops for the red light in front of us.
I feel my face twinge. He's right, I shouldn't have said so much, and I'm lucky he hasn't tossed me out of his truck. "Sorry," I say, trying to keep my voice even and genuine. "I didn't mean to overstep. It's not my business how you deal with anything in your life."
Silence falls over us, thick and heavy with tension.
It takes another ten minutes for him to pull to the side of the road. Beside me, I spot a building with a wall of glass. Just like the photos on their website, the Warrent War Museum is large and proud on its plot of land. It borders an ice cream shop and a dingey second hand bookstore. I step out, admiring the metallic stenciled sign that bears its name. Rion's truck clicks again behind me, and he steps up beside me.
"I hope those tickets are valid," he says. "I'm not paying for this shit."
"I wouldn't need your money even if they were invalid."
He sets off to the front door, pulling it open and waiting for me. For once, he appears almost polite, holding it open so I can go through. I step inside to a cool, well-lit showroom. A few people, including a family of four, mill about reading the information cards. There's a stand in front of me, and the woman behind it smiles at me.
"Tickets?"
I pull out my two tickets and hand them to her. She nods. "Awesome, thanks. You can go ahead."
I start ahead, hearing Rion's footsteps behind me.
"Hold on," he breathes, breezing past me. He stops in front of a display and looks down, wonder lighting up his face. It twitches back to a relatively barren expression, but his eyes remain locked on what's in front of him. I catch up to him and stand close, looking at the object behind the glass. It's a Knight's Cross set neatly in a velvety display box. Beside it, there's a card with some information about the soldier it was awarded to and how it got to the museum.
"Cool," I remark. Rion grunts and glances down the aisle. He turns away, already locked in on another object. I bite back a smile and shake my head, looking back to read the information card.
I stroll through the museum, taking my time as Rion seems to do the opposite. By the time I'm at the second row of display stands, he's down the far end near the display room, and I decide to catch up with him. He casts a disinterested glance my way.
"You're going awfully fast," I say.
"I have homework, don't I?"
"You're a good student, but I wish you'd be less obvious about your impatience. It's not very polite."
He sets his jaw. "I think you're just trying to annoy me."
"Oops."
"So I'm right?"
"Not entirely. I think doing stuff like this will strengthen our student-tutor bond."
"That just sounds like part of your scheme. I'm not sure tutoring is supposed to go like this."
"Well, that's okay."
"Is it?"
I tilt my head. "Do you exist to question everything I do?"
"Yes, actually. Are we done here?"
I raise my arm, pointing at the door behind him. Rion turns to look.
"We need to get the full experience," I reply. He reluctantly follows me into the display room. Inside, it's dark except for the glow of a TV, which seems to be rolling the credits of a video. I take a seat and get comfortable, lifting my ankle to rest on my knee. Rion sits methodically at the edge of the seat closest to the door. His knee taps on the ground.
The video begins. It's a short documentary on life as a soldier in world war two. It's kind of hard to focus when Rion keeps shifting his posture every few minutes, but I make it through regardless. As soon as the video is over and the credits appear on the screen, Rion is out of the door. I walk out of the room, spotting him heading to the exit. He holds the door open for me begrudgingly, and as soon as I'm out, he whips around to his truck. He unlocks it and gets in, slamming the door.
I turn right and head inside the ice cream shop. There's a line inside, so I go to the end and look out the window, spotting Rion mouthing what the fuck are you doing. I wave and look back at the menu, searching for my favorite flavor. When my time to order comes, I ask for one banana scoop and one vanilla scoop in a waffle cone. I move aside to let the next person order and meander to the other end of the counter, watching a worker make my order out of the corner of my eye. I dig my wallet out of my back pocket and pull my card out. The cashier does a double take when she spots it and hands me my cone, a curious look on her face. I bid her a good day and leave, biting into my ice cream.
I open the door and pull myself into Rion's truck. He tsks and pulls off the curb, cutting a Mercedes off. "If you get any of that shit on my car, you're fucking dead."
I take another bite. "Mm-hm."
He looks ready to throw another slur my way, so I'm careful not to drip my ice cream anywhere. After a while, I ask, "Did you like it?"
"I liked the part where we left."
"You act like the spoiled younger cousin at the family gathering."
"No, that's Emrey."
"Emrey must have influenced your life greatly," I say.
"No, he shot ketchup at the cat and cried when his mom told him off."
I fail at holding back laughter. "Oh, my God, the cat?"
His hands tighten around the steering wheel. "Yes, and it threw up on the table in retaliation. Right fucking in front of me. On my pizza. I'd never let myself be influenced by someone who made me see that."
I quell my laugh down so I can take a bite. I cover my mouth with the back of my hand, tasting wonderful sweetness on my tongue. "Maybe you're not bad in that way, but you must be aware that you're not the most agreeable person ever."
Rion shifts in his seat and stays quiet, a passive kind of irritation on his face. I allow the silence to stretch on, eating my ice cream until all that's left is the cone. I cup my hand under my mouth and bite into it, licking the crumbs off my hand.
Eventually, when my cone has been reduced to an inch-high triangle and the atmosphere has become unbearably awkward, Rion turns into my street. He drives until he's outside of my house and pulls up to the curb. I twist around in my seat and retrieve my backpack. I pop the door open and climb out, biting down on the last of the waffle cone.
"Bye," Rion says plainly. I shut the door and wave him off. I turn around and start up the pathway to my house. The door is unlocked, so I head straight inside. My mom turns around from her spot before the fridge, her dark hair swishing with the movement.
"What was that? A date?"
"Yes, Mother," I reply, heading to my room.
"I knew something was up with that boy."
I shut my door and head straight to my bed. After a full weekend of work, my mind screams for rest. Usually, I'd have no problem with such a busy schedule, but my human body desires rest that my vampire body hasn't paid any mind to.
My bed is so comfortable that I find rest easily.