I could smell the bread burning, and I had to run to the oven to save it. As I took it out and placed the scalding hot pan onto the stove, I glanced at the time. Thirty minutes until Cameron came.

Surveying the mess of the bread, I put them on plates and pulled out the ham. How had I thought toasting the bread would have been a good idea? Maddie would definitely complain about her slightly blackened food, but I didn't have time to try again.

"Is something burning?" asked Clare, coming into the kitchen. Her nose was up in the air like a bloodhound's, and her eyes widened when she saw my poor attempt at sandwiches. "You should just stick with microwaved dinners," she pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. "Get the honey mustard, and be a help, okay?" I asked her, and she obediently went into the fridge and pulled out the condiment. When she handed it to me, I quickly spread it over the bread, added the ham, cheese, and lettuce, and then slapped the halves of the sandwich together.

"Go get Maddie for dinner," I told her, and she glared at me, most likely for bossing her around, before scampering into the living room to get her little sister.

We gathered at the breakfast table and I opened the blinds so that my sisters could see out into the backyard. Maddie watched the birds chirping on the grass with fascination as she ate her food, not even paying attention to the overcooked state of her bread.

"How was school?" I asked Clare, struggling to keep my expression neutral as I swallowed a chalky bite of sandwich and washed it down with some water.

"Good." Clare wasn't really looking at me, so I stared her down pointedly until she glanced up and said, "My teacher is scheduling parent-teacher conferences for all the kids in my class."

My eyebrows shot up. This wasn't my first time dealing with this problem, but it was always a pain. "Is she really?" I asked, giving up on my bread altogether and opening up my sandwich so that I could just eat what was inside. "Tell her to call my phone, okay?"

Clare rolled her eyes and grumpily went back to her food.

The doorbell rang just as I was about to take a bite of ham, and I was forced to set down my fork and wipe my fingers on my napkin before hurrying over to answer it. When I saw Cameron standing on the other side, his hands in his pockets and his seemingly permanent smile on his face, I could feel heat rising up to my cheeks.

"Hi," I said.

He smiled a little wider—then, his expression froze and he cocked his head. "Is something burning?"

Exhaling loudly, I gestured for him to step inside the entryway and shut the door behind him. "I burned dinner," I told him as he crossed the living room and poked his head into the breakfast room.

He waved cheerfully at Maddie and Clare, who grinned back, and addressed me again. "Parents still not back?"

I coughed; my throat was suddenly on fire. "No."

While I finished my sandwich and then put the dishes into the dishwasher, Cameron spread out his things on the living room floor. Then I herded Maddie and Clare up to their bedroom to work on homework before coming back downstairs and plopping down on the living room floor.

"So, I saw you got your car back," Cameron said as he neatly lined up his mechanical pencils. I knew he was trying to make small talk, but thinking of the car made me think of the upcoming payments (plus interest!), and thinking of payments made me think of my quickly dwindling bank account.

I forced a smile, trying to pretend I was another happy, spoiled teenager glad she'd finally gotten her car back so she wouldn't have to ride with her parents. "Yup!" I chirped; then, sensing I sounded overeager, cleared my throat and asked, "Should we get started?"

Glancing at me almost suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, Cameron opened my history textbook, and I felt my heartbeat increasing until it was drumming in my chest like a tribal song. Cameron was smart—really smart, actually. How long would it take him until he put all the pieces together and figured out the truth?

"Evelyn?"

I was yanked out of my reverie as Cameron handed me my American History textbook and tapped his finger on a relevant paragraph. "You have an essay on the effects of World War I due in two days," he said. "I figured you should get started on that." He pulled out a piece of paper with some page numbers on it and added, "I found a bunch of passages that should help you out a lot."

While I flipped through my textbook, marking the pages Cameron had indicated, he checked my bio homework. Then we moved on to Spanish. "How's the subjunctive coming along?" he asked.

I opened up my folder and rifled through it for my most recent homework grade: a sparkling 100%. "Well, there's this," I said as I handed it to him and he scanned it with wide eyes.

"What am I even here for?" he asked, smiling broadly as he handed me back the worksheet and I put it back in my folder. "Let's see if we can get your grades up in your other classes."

Even though he hadn't said anything more significant than he'd been saying since he'd started tutoring me, I felt that familiar glow rising up as he opened my pre-calc textbook and began flipping through it. When he found the page he was looking for, he glanced up at me, and our eyes locked.

My cheeks turned cherry-tomato pink, and when he finally broke the gaze, I wanted to jump up and embrace the whole world with a sudden pent-up energy I was carrying around in my chest.

"Want to review conic sections for your test on Friday?" he asked.

I forced myself to come back down to earth and nodded. "Sure," I said, still feeling the heat in my face. I tried to appear fascinated with my book as I added, "I could definitely use the extra practice."

"Well how about you read this, then," he said, pointing to a passage in the textbook, "while I write out some practice problems for you?"

I worked as hard as could at pretending to be completely engrossed in what I was reading and not the boy next to me. He was sitting on the carpet with his back against one of the navy sofas, scribbling away and occasionally punching numbers into his calculator. I noticed how large his hands seemed and how easily he jotted down numbers or worked through a calculation. When I glanced up after reading a sentence, I noticed him staring at me, too.

He looked away and then cleared his throat. "Did you finish reading yet?" he asked, writing down another series of numbers and then pressing his mechanical pencil against the paper to press the lead back in.

"Yeah." I set aside the book and he handed me the practice problems, looking over my shoulder as I worked through them. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck as he watched me work.

It was hard to concentrate on the problems, but I got through the first one and started in on the second one. He was still watching me, but I didn't dare look back at him to see his expression. Still, it felt like the hardest thing I had to do to keep my head turned forward and my eyes on the paper.

Since when had it become more difficult to avoid looking at a boy then dealing with the bills or managing the house? And since when had said boy even entered my mind except to contemplate how popular he was or how easily he put himself in the favor of all the teachers?

Cameron had given me five math problems, all with parts a through g, and I worked through them all easily. When I was finished, he scanned my work one more time and then said, "I think you're ready for the test then. Hand me your bio textbook and we can work on that."

I passed him my textbook, careful not to let our hands touch. Still his fingers brushed mine and I felt my face flush again. Was I going to be a permanent tomato this entire evening?

We spent about half an hour on biology, during which Cameron basically explained the lecture my teacher had given me earlier in the day in a way that made it much more understandable. He watched as I took notes and color-coded them, then helped me with the handout I'd received in class.

"Is that everything then?" he asked after I finished the last matching exercise and put my papers back inside my folder.

"I think so." I was disappointed at the thought of Cameron leaving and wanted to someone prolong the tutoring session without making it too obvious, so I added, "How long do you think it'll take for me to get my grades back up?"

He looked up from where he had been putting his things back in his black backpack long enough to smile at me, so that the corners of his pool-blue eyes crinkled. "You're a smart girl, Evelyn, and you're a hard worker. It shouldn't take that long. I don't even know why they dropped to start."

I thought about the life I could have had if my mom had never passed away and if my dad hadn't left. I would have been back where I'd used to be, with a bucket-load of friends and sparkling grades, invites to parties and dances, probably just as popular and smart as Cameron. But everything had changed in one night, and I knew I'd never be able to go back to that life.

I didn't answer Cameron, and we both finished packing up in silence. Finally, he stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder. "I'd better go start on my own homework," he said. "Good night, Evelyn."

Opening the front door for him, I let in a cool blast of nighttime spring breeze and the sound of crickets chirping. Outside, the stars were just beginning to twinkle. "Good night, Cameron," I said.

He smiled again, this time so that his dimples showed, and jumped down the porch steps. I watched his quickly darkening silhouette as he climbed into his convertible, revved the engine, and drove off down the road.

I'd already finished all of my homework during the tutoring session, so I left my backpack in the living room as I hopped up the stairs two at a time and then went inside Maddie and Clare's room to tuck them in. They were already fast asleep.

Silently, I kissed them each on their foreheads and then pulled up the warm covers to their chins, flicking off the lamp and then creeping out into the hallway. I cracked the door behind them, then went into my own bedroom and lay down on my bed, fully clothed.

I'd only intended to take a quick, few second rest before going to my desk and working on paperwork, but before I knew it my heavy eyelids shut and a peace overcame me...

And then it started.

I was checking my reflection in the mirror in the passenger seat, not looking at the road. And then all I could hear was brakes screaming and my mother praying under her breath and the impact of the collision. I was blinded; I couldn't tell where I was or what was happening; all I felt was an excruciating, indescribable pain. My ears felt as if they had been stuffed with cotton—maybe, if I had had all my senses, I would have been able to hear my mother screaming for help, silent tears streaming down her face...

I didn't look over at the driver's side. I didn't even think. Maybe if I had, I would have been able to save my own mother's life.

A/N: Please remember to VOTE and COMMENT! :)