Study or Sink: The First Test

SAT Review Guides. For my weak spots.

I flipped through them—one for every subject.

All my mistakes.

He'd planned all of this. In advance.

But now I'm about to be taken away.

I looked at him sadly. "Mason, I'm afraid you can't help me anymore."

My voice wavered, and for a second I thought I might cry. Mason's face darkened. Instantly: "Just one night and you're backing out?"

Jaw clenched. Eyes sharp. The whole room felt colder.

"No, listen to me—" I tried.

His voice was tight.

"I don't want to hear it!"

He shoved the plan into my hand.

"Starting today, follow this schedule exactly."

No room for argument. I stared at the plan—down to the minute. My fingers trembled. Down to the minute.

"Mason, getting up at 5:30 a.m. to memorize vocab is going to kill me." 5:30 a.m. To memorize vocab. Seriously?

I whined, hoping he'd go easy on me. He looked dead serious.

"I get up at 5:30 every day and I'm still alive." Of course he does.

Eyebrows raised. Daring me to complain.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll call you at 5:30 every morning to wake you up."

He meant it.

His determination was contagious. Weirdly comforting, knowing he was in this with me.

I slumped.

My shoulders slumped, and I sighed like the world was ending. The world was ending.

"But I'm leaving."

"Today, a wealthy couple came to my house and said I'm their real daughter."

"They want to transfer me to another school and take me to New York."

Mason suddenly grabbed my wrist, his slender fingers trembling slightly. His fingers trembled.

His grip was gentle but desperate, like he was holding on to something slipping away. He looked at me. Silent. For a long time: "..."

Afraid of the awkward silence, I quickly changed the subject:

I forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"Mason, how do you have my mistake collections for every subject?"

"And you even picked out review guides for me in advance?"

"Didn't you just draw the dare last night?"

"Oh my god, do top students like you have psychic powers? Psychic powers, maybe?"

Mason's Adam's apple bobbed, his face red as he awkwardly argued, "Don't overthink it. I'm the class president—every test paper goes through my hands before it's handed out. Is it weird that I know your mistakes in every subject?"

He avoided my eyes, fiddling with the notebook. I wouldn't let him off that easily.

"But why did you collect my mistakes for every subject and pick out review guides ahead of time? If you hadn't drawn the dare last night, these wouldn't be useful, right?"

"Mason, have you had a secret crush on me for a long time? A secret crush?"

I teased, grinning. Mason looked even more uncomfortable, refusing to answer.