I dumped my worn-down black backpack onto the floor and sat down heavily into the office chair beside it, running my hands through my long blonde hair. A quick glance at the clock told me I was only two minutes late for my meeting with my guidance counselor--pretty good considering my kindergarten sister needed me to take her home during lunch because of an accident.

Mrs. Barrett glanced me over as I continued to untangle my hair. I could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, and it was only noon.

"Are you doing all right, Evelyn?" she asked as I forced a polite smile and slumped back in my chair. I had no idea why she scheduled this meeting with me; even though I was a junior, I had never had a meeting with my assigned guidance counselor. Probably because I was so busy I ignored them, like almost everything else in my life.

I realized Mrs. Barrett was still waiting for an answer and sat up straighter. "Yes, of course, I'm fine," I said quickly.

There was a shuffling of papers, and Mrs. Barrett slid forward a folder with my name (Evelyn Caverly) on it. It had everything in there: my grades, transcripts, application essays, school history...well, almost everything. What wasn't in there was after my mom died in a car crash two years ago, my dad left suddenly a year and a half later, leaving me to care for my two little sisters and work two jobs, which explained why I didn't have time for things as trivial as guidance counselor meetings...

"Miss Caverly," said Mrs. Barrett sharply, snapping me out of my reverie just as I was beginning to make a laundry list of everything I needed to do when I got home that evening. "Thank you for deciding to show up to this meeting, instead of ignoring it as you have for the other..." She opened my folder and read a sheet of paper over the tip of her glasses. "...three."

I crossed my legs at the ankles and jiggled my feet impatiently, waiting for this newly invented torture to be over with.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here for four meetings," said Mrs. Barrett, rifling through my folder for another sheet. "Had you attended the first time, I assure you that you would not have heard anything more from me regarding the other three." She glanced up to meet my blank expression and asked, "Do you even know why you're here?"

Even though she said it with a voice of utmost impatience, as if it were perfectly obvious why I was sitting in a guidance counselor's office like something was wrong, I had no idea what was going on. Shaking my head, I said, "All I know is that I should be in biology right now."

Mrs. Barrett shook her head slowly. "It's a wonder you even know your own schedule, considering the lack of attention you've been giving your grades."

"My grades?" I asked blankly.

There was a sudden rustling of paper, and suddenly, a sheet of paper with my first semester grades was right in front of me. I pursed my lips thoughtfully as I read the black text on it--I'd been so busy I hadn't even looked at my report card this past semester...

"One C, two D's, and three F's," said Mrs. Barrett as I finished scanning the discouraging-looking letters. "Would you care to explain yourself? Your grades have been decreasing steadily since the end of your freshman year."

There was no way I could forget that Mom had passed away at the end of my freshman year--grades had therefore been pushed to the back of my mind. I had struggled towards the beginning of my sophomore year to pull them back up, but when Dad had left, everything had fallen apart again. Did Mrs. Barrett think I had time for homework and studying when I was trying to support my sisters and myself?

Then again, Mrs. Barrett didn't know. Nobody knew that Dad had left.

I didn't really know what to say in response to this declaration, so I kept silent until my counselor added, "You are clearly in some desperate need of assistance. At this rate, you won't be passing eleventh grade."

Absentmindedly, I twirled the hem of my sky-blue t-shirt in my hands while Mrs. Barrett snapped by folder shut and began to stand up. "Luckily," she said, "I have arranged some help for you. Cameron Maddox has volunteered to be your tutor until I see some improvement in your grades."

I closed my eyes in frustration as Mrs. Barrett stood and walked to her door, as if blocking everything out would make it go away. I knew Cameron well enough, though I didn't share classes with him--gleaming report cards, captain of the soccer team, service projects galore...the teachers loved him, the girls loved him, the parents loved him--

There was the sound of conversation, and my eyes popped open to see Cameron walking into the office. How much worse could my day get?

"Hello, Evelyn," he said in the voice he reserved for teachers and girls. "How are you?"

"Just great," I grumbled.

Cameron crossed the cramped room and sat down in the second plush red chair facing Mrs. Barrett's desk. My counselor had already seated herself again, looking pleased with herself as she laced her fingers together and watched Cameron and me.

As Cameron took my report card and read through my report cards with a slightly open mouth (I wondered if Mrs. Barrett had told him what he was getting into), I studied him. I'd seen him in the hallways, talking to his friends or a teacher, but never up close. He had hair that looked black from afar but was actually a coffee brown--short and sticking up a little at the top. I couldn't see what color his eyes were at first, because he was reading my transcripts, but when he looked up at me I saw they were a deep, pool-colored blue.

"We have a lot of work ahead of us, don't we?" he asked, tapping my report card with his index finger. I flushed a little at his remark, but nodded.

Cameron returned my folder to Mrs. Barrett, who thanked him, and then addressed me again. "How about we start tonight, before soccer practice?" he asked. "Three o'clock in the library?"

I thought about my little sisters, Maddie and Clare, and how I needed to pick them up from school and take them to the neighbor's, then go work at the ice cream store before I picked them up and got dinner ready...

Cameron was still waiting for my answer. I fingered my hair nervously as I said, "I can't. Um...my parents are out of town and I have to take care of my little sisters."

"How about I come over to your place, then?" he asked.

Tugging at my hair, I glanced from Cameron to Mrs. Barrett and saw that there was no way out of this. "All right," I finally conceded. "But it has to be after dinner, because I have a job after school, okay?"

"Seven o'clock all right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, fine. Just come, do whatever you have to do, and then leave. I have stuff I have to get done."

"It's settled, then!" said Mrs. Barrett, smiling appreciatively at Cameron as if he were helping her deal with a problem child. She filed away my folder and then stood up. "You two had better get back to your classes, then. Let me write a note to your teachers explaining your absence and then you can go."

She scribbled on two sheets of paper and then handed Cameron and I each a hastily written note, which I took and shoved into the back pocket of my jeans.

Bending down, I swung my fraying backpack straps over my shoulder and pushed open the glass door back into the main upper school, ignoring Cameron as he smiled at me on his way out. I didn't know how I was going to fit in tutoring sessions with everything else I had to do, but they seemed unavoidable.

I still had fifteen minutes left for biology, so I headed up to the science wing on the second floor, stopping by my locker to grab my textbook. The class was in the middle of a dissection lab, so I hurried across the room to hand my teacher Mrs. Barrett's note and then settled down at my lab table.

"Hey, Evelyn," said Ashley as I popped on safety goggles and latex gloves. "Coming to pick out dresses for the spring formal with Tasha and me tonight?"

I wrinkled my nose at the fetal pig my lab partner was currently dissecting and said, "Can't, sorry. I have some stupid tutoring session."

I didn't know why people kept asking me to hang out with them--my answer was the same every time. I always made up some new excuse (too busy, parents making me stay home, got to babysit my sisters), and yet my "friends" continued to persist. I guessed that I'd been popular during my freshman year; that seemed so long ago. Maybe my old friends still thought I wanted to be the person I used to be.

"Ew, sorry." Ashley handed me a scalpel as I began probing at the pig, taking notes in my lab journal. "Who's your tutor?"

"Cameron Maddox."

Ashley set down her own scalpel to stare at me, her eyes wide. "He tutors?" she asked. "If I'd known that I wouldn't have flunked this class on purpose long ago. I've had a crush on him since eighth grade!"

"You're welcome to him," I replied, putting down my scalpel to adjust my gloves. "I wish I'd never met him, because then I wouldn't have to waste my time trying to bring up my grades."

"But you're so smart," said Ashley. "How come your grades are bad?"

The long, secret story I would never tell anyone was that I was too busy to study, that I was smart but that I didn't have the time to apply myself, so I got zeroes on my homework grades and flunked every test. But I just shrugged and said, "I'm just a bad test-taker, I guess."

Ashley chattered on about Cameron for the rest of biology class, about how smart and nice and athletic he was, until our teacher called the end of class and the bell rang. I helped clean up as quickly as I could and then took off my gloves, tossing them in the trash can on my way out the door.

One more class to go: English.

The good thing about English III was that it was easy: all I had to do to get a decent grade was sit and pretend to be listening. This was probably the reason that I had a C in the class, but I wasn't complaining. At least a C wasn't a fail.

~*~*~

"Come on, you two," I said as I pulled up to the carpool line of the elementary school. Maddie, who was in kindegarten, and Clare, who in fourth grade, climbed into the backseat of my white van one at a time.

"How was school?" I asked as I steered the car away from the curb and began to drive to their after-school care.

Maddie was sucking her thumb while Clare was rifling through her princess backpack for what was most likely something she had done in school today. "I finished my project on inventors!" she exclaimed, thrusting forward her 3D project. "I want to be an inventor when I grow up."

"That's great!" I said, not really looking as I tried to focus on the road. "Why don't you show Ms. Judy when you get to your after-school place?"

Clare continued to chatter first to me and then to Maddie (who wasn't really listening), reminding me a lot of Ashley as she jabbered on about Cameron. I pulled up to their after-school care moments later and went around to the back seat to help Clare take Maddie out of her carseat.

"When I pick you up today, we're going to have to hurry home and eat," I say, handing Maddie her tiny backpack and smoothing down her hair. "I have someone from my school coming over later today to help me with my homework."

Clare, who was old enough to clearly remember Dad, asked, "Do we have to stay quiet about Daddy again?"

"Yes." I bent over and kissed the top of her head, then pushed her gently in the direction of the door. "Go on in, and have fun, okay?"

I watched as Clare took Maddie's hand and led her into the building, then got into my van and drove off again. I still had my job at the town's ice cream shop to endure before I could go home and get a few minute's rest before my first tutoring session.

I should have turned Cameron's offer down flat. How had I kid myself into thinking I had time for a tutor on top of everything going on in my life?