He rang our doorbell right on time at eleven o'clock, which was only to be expected from a model student.

I had been sitting at the kitchen table since breakfast, with my notepad and pencil case in front of me, and was deeply involved in a level of Candy Crush on my iPad when I heard the jingle. My dad was on early shift, had been at the station since six, so it was up to me to get up and open the door.

He was standing on the second-to-last step and smiled at me shyly, as if he were afraid I might attack him. "Hey."

"Hey," I said, returning a small smile so he wouldn't run off. "I won't bite, don't worry."

He laughed. "So, no morning grouch today?"

I pretended to think. "Hmm, nope, doesn't look like it. Now come on in before the neighbors start staring."

He placed his shoes neatly next to mine and followed me into the dining room, from where the Candy Crush music was still playing. I quickly muted the iPad and skipped the girl who was trying to tell me something about a booster.

"I thought only moms over forty played that," Hiccup said with an amused grin. Unfortunately, he was standing too far away for me to box him.

"Careful, thin ice," I replied instead, as I closed the cover over the screen. "You can sit down, by the way. Just not at the head of the table."

He pulled out the chair next to mine. "May I ask why?"

I looked at her seat with what felt like a hundred stones in my stomach. "That's where my mom always sat."

"Oh," he said and set down his notebook, which he had just taken out of his backpack. "I see. I'm sorry if that was too much."

I tried to smile, but realized it looked more like a I-think-I-might-throw-up-or-cry grimace, so I gave it up. "It's fine. You didn't know, and humans are curious creatures."

He nodded. "Well, to keep the mood from sinking any lower than the Titanic", probably the worst joke of all time, but it worked, because I didn't feel quite so miserable anymore, "how do you suggest we start?"

I shrugged. "I thought you'd tell me."

His expression was the definition of 'Are you serious?'. You'd probably find a picture of it in the dictionary.

"What? You're the model student, the smart one of us. I figured you already had everything planned out and just needed to go through it with me."

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling like he couldn't believe this was reality. "How am I supposed to make a plan if I have no idea where you're at in any subject?"

He was right about that, though.

"That," I said, "is a good point I hadn't considered before. But I am the dumb one of us anyway."

He furrowed his brows. "You're not dumb."

"How would you know?"

"I just know."

"And how exactly?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're not. Trust me, when I hear the guys from the football team talk sometimes, I wonder how they even made it this far. You're a genius compared to them."

"A genius with bad grades and no clue what we're even doing in any of our classes right now."

He kept looking at me like he'd like to slap some sense into me. "First of all, grades only show how good you are at memorizing stuff. Second, that's exactly why I'm here, to help you get back on track and pass the finals next year."

I raised my eyebrows. "Someone's feeling optimistic."

"Maybe you're just too pessimistic."

"I'm realistic, and that tells me I'm not going to make it."

He sighed again. "If we keep teasing each other like this, I might agree with you."

I felt my mouth twitch but didn't let it turn into a smile. "Alright then, what do you suggest, oh optimistic tutor?"

"Please, never call me that again," he said, though I could see the corners of his mouth twitching too. "How about you show me where you left off? Assuming you still have all your worksheets and stuff."

"I actually do. Give me a minute."

I went upstairs to my room and dug out the binders from the past three years where I'd filed away everything we'd done. Back downstairs, I laid them out on the table between us.

"All the worksheets and blackboard notes from every subject since ninth grade," I explained briefly and sat down.

He looked at the two thick, crammed binders. "Alright, let's go through them. Do you have those colored sticky tabs? Then we can mark where you left off."

Now I gave him the 'Are you serious?' look. He just looked at me puzzled. "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier? Now I have to go back upstairs."

He laughed as I walked past him. "Every step makes you fitter," he called after me.

I rolled my eyes. I'll give you fit.

❁

Turns out I had to repeat pretty much everything from eleventh grade and a small part from tenth, which was the foundation for the topics in grade eleven. English, geography, art, and music were the subjects I had barely gotten worse in. Those were also the easy ones where you didn't need to memorize formulas, models, or the sequence of mitosis with all the technical terms. When I looked at all the sheets above the sticky tab, I honestly just wanted to give up. Who even needed a diploma?

Hiccup didn't seem to notice my hopelessness. He calmly kept writing on a sheet of paper, noting down where I was at in each subject. I hadn't expected him to put this much effort into it. He didn't even really know me, had only gotten a glimpse into my life and had been forced to help me, yet here he was, being the nicest and most understanding person I'd met in a long time. The way he went through each subject and always asked if I remembered it or not. The way he never got frustrated when I said "No" pretty early on. The way he just accepted this whole fiasco as if it wasn't totally weird. I didn't understand him and I didn't think I ever really would.

He set his pen down once he finally finished. "I'll compare this with my notes at home. Maybe there are exercises or assignments you missed, then I'll bring them with me." He looked at me. "What?"

Apparently, I had been staring at him. "I was just thinking how casually you're handling all this."

"Would you prefer if I was annoyed and angry that my principal thought it was a great idea to steal a part of my free time?" If it hadn't been for the amused tone in his voice, I might've thought he was a master at hiding frustration. "I know it came suddenly and totally unexpectedly and I could have said no, but he was right. About the team spirit. We never really talked before, but if you need help and I can give it, then why not?"

I knew I was staring and that you're not supposed to, but I couldn't stop. "You can't be this kindhearted, I don't buy it."

He furrowed his brows. "Why not?"

I let out a laugh. "Because no one is like that. People are selfish, only want the best for themselves and don't care about others, especially when it really matters even if they said they would. No one is that good."

He didn't reply right away and for a second I thought he'd decided I was insane. "Has it maybe ever occurred to you that you just had bad experiences with bad people? That you've been let down too often and now you assume everyone's like that?"

"Are you turning into a therapist now?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to help you. Believe it or not, I'm not just sitting here because Mr. North is forcing me to. You can't do this on your own, not with that beautiful pessimism of yours, and I would really like to see you at graduation next year."

"You pity me," I suddenly realized. "You heard about my situation and thought it was so sad you just had to help the poor little half-orphan."

"Yes, I pity you," he said a little more sharply. "But that's not always a bad thing. I'm sorry your mom died and that the past few years have been rough for you. But that's not why I said yes and am sitting here now. You're not a helpless half-orphan, you've just lost part of your will to live. So is it really wrong to want to help change that, even if we didn't know each other before?"

I let his words sink in before I replied with "No."

"It's okay to need help. It's okay to say you're not doing well," he continued in a calm voice. "Just because someone's nice to you doesn't mean it's only out of pity. We've only talked properly three times now, but those three times were enough to show me whether I like you or not."

My eyebrow raised automatically. "And what's the verdict?"

He pulled up a corner of his mouth. "Would I be sitting here saying all this if I didn't like you?"

That made me smile. "Probably not."

He was right, the bad people had ruined my perspective. My ex, who apparently had no sense of empathy. My grandmother, the cold-hearted bitch. My aunt, who had always looked down on my mom and me. My cousins, who never missed a chance to point out what was wrong with me. They'd all shown me how cruel and fake people could be. Maybe it was time for someone to show me how supportive and kind they could be.

"I'm sorry I was kind of a jerk to you," I said into the silence.

He made a dismissive gesture. "I get it. Just remember not everyone's the same." I nodded.

"So," I said, a bit more enthusiastically now, "what do you suggest we do next?"

He looked visibly relieved by the topic change, and that it came from me. "Judging by the amount of material, we should probably meet more than just twice a week. Especially once school starts again and we get even more topics thrown at us."

"Okay, and how do we tackle the older ones?"

"We should do Spanish every time. You need to nail the tenses and memorize the vocab." I groaned, which made him grin. "You knew from the start this wasn't going to be easy."

"Yeah," I said slowly. "But learning vocab multiple times a week?"

He looked at me confused. "How did you do it before?"

I shrugged. "Read through them once the night before the test and guessed."

His perfected look was back. "I'm slowly starting to understand your grades."

I pretended to be offended, mouth open, hand on my chest, which made him laugh and I joined in. And so, we came up with a plan, which subjects to focus on, where to start, and how far we wanted to get before school started again in four weeks. We began learning vocabulary, then my dad came home.

"It's already half past two?" I said after checking my phone. I would've never thought time could go by that fast while studying.

"Indeed," my dad said as he walked into the dining room. "Looks like you really are studying."

Hiccup grinned. "Only took me two hours to get Astrid to cooperate."

"Hey, that's not true!"

My dad laughed. "I like you. Call me Ned." He held out his hand.

Hiccup stood to shake it. "Hiccup. Pleasure to meet you."

I had to hold back an eye-roll, that was way too formal for my taste.

"I won't bother you guys, just wanted to see if everything was okay," he said and left the room.

"'Pleasure to meet you'?" I said once Hiccup had sat down across from me again. "What is this, the twentieth century?"

"It's called manners," he replied, but couldn't help smiling. "Now tell me, what does hot mean?"

I did, along with the next few vocab, until my stomach started growling and we decided to call it a day.

"Text me when you're ready to put yourself through this again," Hiccup said as he tied his second shoe.

"So, never?"

He gave me his look for the hundredth time. "Very funny."

I opened the door for him. "Careful not to fall into the nineteenth century on your way home."

He rolled his eyes. "See you around."

"Farewell, oh optimistic tutor!"

He flipped me off over his shoulder, which made me laugh as I closed the door behind him.