I quickly returned my attention to the Pythagorean theorem before I could start spiraling any further. 

"Right. At its core, the theorem is pretty simple. And that theorem is...?"

When Hadley remained silent, I gave her a pointed look. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat before she just said, "I don't know."

"You don't --?"

"Well, I mean, I know as in I've seen my teacher write it up on a white board a thousand times," she said quickly. "But when you start throwing in all the numbers and letters, that's where I get confused. Honestly, I've just...never really been good at math." 

I couldn't think of a time where numbers hadn't made any sense to me. Numbers were predictable and I liked that.

 Hadley's honesty was unexpected, but looking at the sheepish expression on her face, I was going to have a hard time believing she was lying about her inability to do math.

"Okay," I said. "Let's backtrack then."

It took fifteen minutes to explain the use of the Pythagorean theorem, how the numbers and letters were related to each other, and how to plug them into the formula (a2 + b2 = c2) to get the corresponding answer. Hadley was scowling the entire time, biting her lip and bouncing her knee, but she dived into the practice equation I scribbled down with determination. 

"Okay, I think I'm following you here," she said, setting her pencil down. "I substitute a2 and b2 with seventeen and three, and that's going to give me c2."

"Finally, she gets it!"

I thought I'd been aiming for teasing but given the sour look that came over Hadley's face, I'd obviously missed the mark.

"Well, thank you so much for your help," she said snippily. "It's nice to know you can be such an altruistic tutor."

"How is it that you can't do simple geometry, but you can throw out words like altruistic?" I asked, pushing her homework toward her.

Fighting the urge to apologize was making me feel vaguely nauseated. 

"I already told you," Hadley said, stuffing her homework back in her bag. "I can't do math because math was invented by the devil. And I like to sleep with a dictionary under my pillow."

Instead of succumbing to the apology, all that came out instead was, "You're weird. Like, really weird."

Smooth, I thought with a mental wince. This was a good example of why I tried to avoid talking to people.

Hadley's lips twitched like she was debating another smile, and she shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably on to something there."

It was nearing seven o'clock when Hadley took the subtle hint of my mother coming over to turn off the neon open sign as a cue to leave. There was definitely some relief seeing her pack up her things, but another something too I couldn't identify.

"Thanks for helping me with my math homework and everything," Hadley told me as I packed away my own homework. "You have a nice place here."

"Sure thing," I said.

What was I supposed to do now? Escort Hadley to the door and shake her hand? Tell her thank you, please don't come again? I'd never done this sort of thing before. How was I supposed to know proper friend etiquette?

Hadley took a moment to thank my mom for the hot cocoa and snacks while I pretended to still be packing up my things. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Hadley making her way toward the front door, but halfway there, she suddenly stopped to turn around and face me.

"I have a proposition for you."

Immediately I was suspicious. "What kind of proposition?" 

"I propose you tutor me in geometry," Hadley answered. 

"And?"

"That's it." She shrugged. "I'd just really appreciate it if you tutored me in geometry. My mom will kill me if I get a C in another math class."

Later I was going to wonder whether I'd been possessed, seeing as I was now actually considering Hadley's proposition

"And what's in it for me if I tutor you?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"My charming personality," Hadley said with a grin. "My gorgeous good looks. All the steak fries you can eat."

I should have said no -- maybe even hell, no.

The bizarre way I felt like I'd suddenly begun to freefall hearing Hadley say that her gorgeous good looks were a compelling reason to tutor her in geometry should have been enough of a warning sign.

"I'll do it for the fries."

Hadley threw a triumphant fist in the air with an ecstatic, "Fabulous!"

"Don't look too pleased," I said uncomfortably. "I really do have to help close up though, so if you wouldn't mind..."

I jabbed a thumb at the door, silently hoping she'd take another hint. Thankfully, she did.

"See you tomorrow, new tutor of mine!" Hadley sang on her way out the door.

I tried to mentally recount the events of this afternoon as I shut and locked the shop door after her, feeling in a daze.

Not only had I just "hung out" with someone I went to school with, but I'd also brought her along to my family's coffeehouse and spent a good chunk of time doing homework with her. Now I'd just agreed to tutor her in geometry.

Seriously – how was this my life now?

I grabbed my backpack off the table and went to the kitchen to join my mom. She was already halfway through the closing routine, but I threw myself into helping with vigor. 

I was hoping if I looked busy enough my mom would hold off on the questions. 

"Hadley seems like a sweet girl."

Or not.

"I guess," I said awkwardly.

My mom gave a thoughtful hum as she finished loading the industrial sized dishwasher. "How did you two meet?"

"English class freshman year."

I could tell there were a plethora of more questions my mother wanted to ask, but she managed to rein it in. "I see. Well, it's...it's nice to see you with a friend, caro."

I wouldn't go so far as to call Hadley a friend, but after tonight, she was maybe...less of an annoyance. That seemed like a good place to start.

"She asked me to tutor her in geometry," I said abruptly.

A few moments passed before my mom responded. "Do you want to?"

"No," I said automatically. "Maybe? I don't know. I just...I don't think I would necessarily mind seeing her again, that is."

And once those words were out of my mouth, the urge to take them back was surprisingly absent. I was pretty sure I even sort of meant it.

There was no getting around it: Hadley was weird. Nothing about her so far had been anything like what I would have expected. 

I was also very aware that Hadley had made me laugh, however unintentionally, over the Pythagorean theorem of all things. 

I could hear the smile in my mom's voice even with my back turned. 

"I'd say that's a good thing then."

"Maybe."

It wasn't until later when I was already in bed, bracing myself for another night of tossing and turning without sleep, that I realized I'd forgotten to take the note out of the pocket of my pants. 

The note was somewhere in the laundry basket, but the urge to go retrieve it was surprisingly absent. 

So, I didn't get out of bed to get it. I left it there. And in the morning, if I felt a little more rested than I usually would, I was going to consider those two things unrelated.