The next evening, Tess was seated at the kitchen table with Miguel, working on the final few paragraphs of her essay on J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye. It was, surprisingly, a book she liked even less than The Scarlet Letter. Disliking books that had topped high school curriculum lists for years made her feel like she was missing something important, some grand inside joke. Or maybe she was just dense.

She didn't dislike reading, but English classes sure made it tough to want to turn pages; why couldn't they read books from the Y.A. best seller lists instead? It was hard enough to focus on schoolwork as a teen with everything else going on in life. If the books were interesting, maybe it would make everything a tiny bit easier.

Then again, after yesterday's terrible fight with Isaac, Tess wasn't sure she'd have been able to focus on any book, no matter how interesting. Worry over what had happened had been making Tess's stomach ache all day. Still, she was doing her best to convince her parents that the fight had just been a small disagreement. If either of them understood how Tess had really felt the previous day, she had no doubt they'd make her break up with Isaac.

She didn't know if she wanted that yet. He was jealous, and he'd been angry, yes—but didn't that mean that he really loved her, like he'd said? They had texted earlier in the day, and it had seemed like things were completely normal again.

"Here you go," Tess's mom said, setting a glass of iced tea in front of Miguel. "I should have asked—it's cold outside, do you want something else instead?"

"There's never a bad time for sweet tea. Thank you so much, Mrs. Morrison." Miguel took an appreciative swig. "Mm."

"Not too sweet?" Clarette put her hand on her hip and studied his expression.

"Not at all. It's perfect sweet tea."

Tess wrinkled her nose. "Gross. You weird people and your sweet tea." Why her mom had taken an interest in perfecting her recipe for sweet tea was beyond Tess; Clarette had been born and raised in Minnesota, too, so it wasn't like it was a cultural thing. Then again, she seemed to like offering Miguel food and beverages. Tess supposed he was just a convenient victim for her culinary experiments.

Would Clarette be upset if Tess stopped seeing Miguel? She'd have to figure all of that out soon, but she couldn't afford not to focus. She tried to turn her attention to her essay, trying not to think about it.

A moment after Tess's mom had left the room, Miguel spoke, his voice just a step above a whisper. "You okay, Tess?"

She looked up, startled. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

"You look...I don't know. Sad."

Tess met Miguel's steady gaze, uncomfortable with his perception. "I've just got a lot going on," she whispered. She didn't want her mom to overhear.

"You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. "I just want to do this stupid assignment."

"You got it." Miguel leaned over, resting his chin on his hand. "Tell me when you get to the part where he catches the rye."

Despite her foul mood, Tess smiled. "He doesn't catch any rye. He catches kids trying to jump off cliffs, or wants to...or something. I don't really understand it."

"Just testing you to make sure you read it." He winked, which made Tess blush and think guiltily of Isaac. Before she could fully recover, Miguel said, "Hey, since I've already interrupted you, I wanted to ask you about something."

"What?"

"You're not gonna hurt my feelings if you say no, but it's been on my mind for a week and I just won't get any sleep until I ask you."

"What is it?"

"The English department at Tipton is advertising an essay contest," he explained. "The prize is pretty amazing: an $8,000 scholarship, plus $2,000 to donate to a charitable cause of your choice."

"And you want me to read your submission?"

"What? No! I want you to enter, Tess. The contest is for juniors and seniors in high school—I couldn't enter even if I wanted to—and I think it would be great for you."

Tess laughed. She leaned back in her chair, covering her mouth with her hand. "You have got to be kidding me."

A flicker of something like concern passed over Miguel's features. He shook his head, sitting up straight and looking at her with an earnest expression. "I'm not kidding."

"I can't win some scholarship with a stupid essay about The Catcher in the Rye."

"Aha! See, you don't have all the details. It wouldn't be about The Catcher in the Rye."

"What's the topic, then?"

"I'm glad you asked." Miguel reached into his pocket and produced a folded paper, which he passed to Tess. "All the details are there."

Tess unfolded the paper with a skeptical look at Miguel, then skimmed the page; it described the requirements for entry into the Young Writers' Bright Horizons contest. It was an annual essay contest funded by a group of alumni. The outline of requirements included the deadline—late March—and the rules. The length requirement was 1,000–1,500 words, and the prompt was, "Write about an important event, person, or period in your life."

And there was more. "It says that the winning essay will be published in The Tipton Times," she said.

"Oh. That too. It's the college magazine."

"Miguel, I can't write something like this. I can barely even write my name."

"Wrong. You're a good student of English, Tess—when you have the time and the support, you do strong work. But that's besides the point. This essay contest is about telling a story. I think you'd be good at it."

She looked up from the paper, meeting his gaze again. She didn't know why, but the thought of writing a personal essay unsettled her. "I don't think I want to tell a story."

He raised his hands with a smile. "No pressure. I swear, no pressure. It just seems to me that you're a person with a lot of stories to tell. You're a really interesting girl." He held her gaze for just a moment too long in silence. Then he said, "Consider it?"

Tess laid the paper aside. "I'm not good with grammar and stuff."

Miguel grinned. "You don't have to be. I hear you have a tutor to help you out with all that boring proof-reading stuff."

"You'd do that for me? Even if it isn't for school?"

"Of course I would. I'm here to help you however I can."

And he had. Miguel had helped Tess when she'd felt like she was drowning, and he had become something like a friend, despite the weird nature of their acquaintance. Now, he was offering his time and expertise to help Tess write an essay that had nothing to do with high school and everything to do with the future she thought she'd never have—the future she'd thought she didn't deserve. Maybe turning down the opportunity to participate in the contest would be letting Miguel down.

"Okay...I'll consider it," she said. "I promise. Now: catchers. Rye. Phonies."

"All right, show me what you got." Miguel beckoned for Tess's paper, and she passed it over with a smile.

About a half an hour later, Tess's mom came back into the kitchen and leaned over to peek into the oven. Apparently satisfied that the lasagna was done, she reached for her favorite pot holder and opened the oven door. "Will you be staying for dinner tonight, Miguel?"

He smiled. "It's really kind of you to offer, Mrs. Morrison, but I have a study group tonight I can't miss."

"Will you let me send you some home?" she asked, setting the lasagna on the stove top.

"I was going to politely decline, but then you opened the oven door." He took a deep breath and sighed. "It smells so good."

Clarette smiled. "Thank you, honey."

"You don't have to ever politely decline Mom's food," Tess said. "You should know that by now. I'm pretty sure nothing in the world makes her happier than feeding people."

"You have no idea how lucky you are, Tess," said Miguel.

With a gasp, Clarette pointed her spatula at Miguel and looked at Tess. "I like him. Can we keep him?"

For some reason she couldn't quite explain, Tess's cheeks grew warm. "Mom!"

"What? I'm so unappreciated around here!" She began to slice the lasagna, portioning off a healthy serving for Miguel.