I pulled open the door to walk inside, Hadley one step behind me.

I went straight for the front counter without stopping to see what Hadley's reaction would be to the place. There weren't many customers in the place, so I had no problem shouting, "Ma! Grandma!"

"Well, it's about time you got here!" my grandma shouted back a beat later. She appeared in the kitchen doorway, fixing me with her usual disapproving glare at once. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Sorry," I lied, reaching into the pastry case to grab myself a cherry Danish. "I --"

My mother made a sudden appearance then, making the tight space behind the counter even more cramped. She looked exhausted, covered in flour and milk stains, but she perked up when she saw me.

"Hi, sweetie. We were wondering if you -- Oh."

My mom turned a completely dumbfounded look my way after noticing Hadley standing on the other side of the counter. 

That was when it became apparent to me then that I probably hadn't thought this through very well. 

I couldn't remember the last time I'd brought a "friend" home, let alone a "friend" who also happened to be a girl. My mom had to be thinking the sky was falling or pigs were flying.

There was also the fact that, stranger or not, my mother would have my hide if I tried to shake Hadley off with more unpleasant remarks.

Wow. I really couldn't think straight these days, could I?

"Sorry," I said again. "I got held up at school."

"Oh." 

It was just the one word, but I knew I was going to be in for a lengthy interrogation later.

"Hi," my mom said to Hadley, pulling on a smile.

"This your girlfriend?" my grandma asked me bluntly.

"Hell no, she's not my girlfriend," I said, tearing into my cherry Danish again.

"Well, regardless, hello," my mom said, reaching over to shake Hadley's hand. "I'm Regina, Archer's mother."

"Hi." Hadley's smile was slightly less convincing than the ones I'd seen before, returning my mom's firm handshake. "I'm Hadley."

"And I'm Victoria," my grandmother added helpfully, not shaking Hadley's hand. "Archer's grandmother."

"Nice to meet you," Hadley said, ever polite.

My grandmother sniffed at the greeting and turned to address me. "You'd best get to work. You're already late and there are dishes in the back that need washing."

"Right," I said, polishing off the rest of my Danish. "I just need to --"

"Oh, Archer doesn't need to work tonight, ma," my mom said quickly, putting a hand on my grandma's shoulder to keep her put. "He has homework he probably needs to do, and it would be rude to leave Hadley by herself."

"I'd rather be washing dishes."

Hadley shot me a mildly putout look, and I realized I must've said that aloud. Oops.

"Well, you'll still have to look after your sister once I pick her up," my grandmother informed me. "And I'm already late, so work fast, won't you?"

"I'm so sorry about my mother," my mom said the moment my grandma had disappeared into the kitchen. "Her frontal lobe was damaged when she had a stroke a few years ago. She doesn't censor what she says."

She also just doesn't care, I mentally added.

"Why don't you and Archer get started on your homework and I'll bring you both a snack and some hot cocoa?" 

My mother's smile for Hadley was kind, less so for me.

"Oh," Hadley said, surprised at the offer. "That would be...really nice. Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks, mom," I said dully.

I made my way back around the counter and went straight for the square table by the front window without waiting for Hadley, but she was already there anyway. I got busy pulling out my own stack of homework assignments but stopped when I noticed Hadley watching me with her mouth hanging open.

"Holy crap." Her tone was somewhere between impressed and horrified. "You have to do all of that? What classes are you taking?"

I glanced at the notebook she'd pulled out. "Not remedial geometry, that's for sure."

"Funny," Hadley muttered with an impressive eye roll. "So, I'm not good at math. Big deal."

I threw myself into organizing my assignments from most to least important, and by the time I'd finished my mom was delivering a tray of cookies, a cinnamon roll, a second cherry Danish, and two giant mugs of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and chocolate chips. 

Hadley eagerly accepted the drink and snacks while I tried not to give my mother a look that said, you know you're trying too hard, right? My mom just patted my shoulder on her way back to the kitchen, seeming way too pleased with herself.

"So." Hadley took another sip of hot cocoa, then licked a bit of whipped cream off her thumb. "Um. You have a little sister?"

"Yeah. Rosie."

"How old is she?"

"Five." I could have left it there, but the words came tumbling out before I could stop them. "She drives me up a wall more often than not."

"But you love her."

I looked up at Hadley. She was munching on a bit of cookie, tapping out a beat with her pencil on her math assignment she hadn't started yet. It was an innocent statement, and true enough, but it still had me feeling unsettled in a way I couldn't put my finger on it.

"You done with the psychoanalysis yet, Freud?" I asked, maybe a little too harshly.

Hadley returned to her homework without replying, but it looked like she was trying very hard not to smile.

That unsettling feeling started evolving into something more the longer we sat there doing homework. 

I usually had no issue tackling any kind of schoolwork until it was done because it was exactly the kind of mind-numbing thing I latched on to, the things that kept my brain and my hands busy. I very quickly learned that wasn't to be the case sitting across the table from Hadley Jamison.

The girl was, in a nutshell, distracting. An hour into it and I wasn't sure what work I'd even managed to get done.

If Hadley wasn't tapping her pencil on the table or her math textbook, she was running her fingers through her dark brown hair, chewing on her lip, or fiddling with a long strand of orange beads wrapped around her wrist.

From what I could tell, she hadn't moved on from the very first math worksheet she'd pulled out. Whether she was struggling to actually do the assignment or if she was too distracted by watching me in return, I couldn't tell.

But I got my answer when Hadley suddenly chucked her pencil aside and groaned, scrubbing her face with her hands. "I give up. I suck at geometry. I should probably just drop out of high school now so I can --"

I reached across the table to pull her work toward me so I could see for myself what Hadley was having trouble with, and then I just couldn't help it. I started laughing.  It wasn't a nice laugh, but it was a laugh all the same.

"This?" Trying to take in a breath had me sounding like I was wheezing. "You're having trouble with the Pythagorean theorem?" 

"Not all of us are mathematical geniuses," Hadley said defensively, crossing her arms. 

"Yeah, but the Pythagorean theorem is totally middle school work," I pointed out. "Even you of all people should be able to do this."

"Hey!" she yelped. "What do you mean, me of all people?"

I snatched her notebook next and flipped to a clean page. 

"What're you doing?" Hadley asked, trying to get a closer look at the numbers I'd started to write.

From the one look at her assignment, I could see where Hadley's problem was. With any luck, I could show her easily enough how to fix it. 

"Showing you how to do this," I answered briskly.

Hadley's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "Excuse me?" 

"I'm not doing it to be nice," I clarified. "Your butchering your math is giving me hives. Pythagoras is probably rolling in his grave right now."

Hadley suddenly stood up from the table, but instead of walking off in a huff like I was expecting, she pulled her chair around closer to mine and sat down. 

"Alright then," she said simply. "I appreciate the help. Thank you."

It was a strange sensation, feeling my lips part to speak but having no sound come out. Hadley was sitting a respectable distance from me, her chair only slightly angled toward mine, but it was still close enough to catch me off guard. 

I couldn't come up with a word to describe what struck me at that moment, looking at Hadley and realizing that she was pretty. At least, that was the first word that came to mind.  

Her eyes were a warm brown, her nose perfectly straight. Her top lip was curved in a perfect cupid's bow, and when she noticed me looking at her and smiled, I caught sight of that dimple again.

It had been a few years since Freshman English, but not that long, and yet this was like looking at someone for the very first time. It was obvious to me now I hadn't given her enough attention back then to take notes about any of her features. 

Now it also seemed clear that Hadley was...something else. What it was I couldn't put my finger on. 

For the most part, I usually could trust my gut instinct. What my gut was telling me now, however hard it was to believe, was that Hadley wanted to get to know me. Why else would she be here?

And after three very strange days, I was no longer able to convince myself that I didn't want to know more about her either.

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Over the years I've seen this question pop up quite a bit, so I wanted to answer it — why is Hadley learning the Pythagorean theorem as a junior in high school? Well, that's because when I was writing the first draft of In 27 Days, I was a junior in a remedial geometry class learning the Pythagorean theorem. And now as an adult, math sadly is still not my forte.