"...I seriously recommend you seek a tutor." 67

The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

My head swiveled back to Under-the-hill. "What?" A tutor? The man was calling me stupid? In front of Luke?

I felt my face heat.

"No, that's OK," I said. "I can do better. I don't need a tutor. Really."

Under-the-hill eyed me critically. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying, Miss Paxton." He stared me down. I stared back. And then he dropped the bomb. "Get a tutor, or I drop you from the class." My lips fell apart as I gaped at him. He couldn't do that. Dropped from a class? What would I do? I needed a math credit, and I'd be too far behind to enter another class. I'd have to take two math courses next year.

No way.

"But, Mr. Under-the...I mean, Underhill—" At my slip, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. "My decision is final, Miss Paxton."

My mouth worked but no words came out. I wanted to scream. Why would he do this to me? It was beyond torture. I didn't go to other people for help. I always did my own work. Then I thought of E.T. and calmed immediately. E.T. didn't know how to tutor. He always sped ahead and never could slow down to explain why he was doing what he did. That was why I never studied with him. But I could spend an hour with him and tell Under-the-hill I was being tutored. Then I'd just work harder and improve my grades on my own. I was about to nod and say, "OK, I'll find someone to help me," when an all-too-familiar voice behind me broke in.

"I'll give her a hand."

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I whipped around so fast it made Luke jump back a step. The rest of the class had cleared out. Only the three of us—

Under-the-hill, Luke, and I—remained in the room.

"Ah, Mr. Carter." Under-the-hill sat forward, slipped his glasses back on and flipped through his grade book. After checking Luke's scores, he nodded. "Yes. I think that would work out quite well. Miss Paxton?" He glanced at me. I had the refusal on the tip of my tongue but the awful teacher didn't even give me a chance to refuse. He simply said, "Settle on a time to meet with Mr. Carter, would you?" I stared at him. Then I looked up at Luke. This was a joke, right?

"I could come to your house right after school today," Luke offered.

My eyes bugged. Right after school? Today?

No!

"That sounds great," Under-the-hill answered for me as he rose. He patted me on the back as if sending me on my way. I glared at Luke. He smiled, flaunting his arrogant dimple, then turned and strolled out of the room, whistling. I was left there, sputtering and going into the shock of a lifetime. But neither Luke nor Under-the-hill seemed to notice or care. I was stuck. Luke Carter was going to be my trigonometry tutor. And I didn't have any say-so about it.

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69

The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

Chapter Six

"You're mad, aren't you?"

I slammed the door behind me and glared up at Luke as I flung my book bag to the floor next to his. "Let's just get this over with."

He stood in the middle of my living room, and as thrilling as it felt to see him there, I was still furious with him. I had no idea what had possessed him into volunteering to be my tutor. Maybe he thought he could use it as some kind of leverage to get me to write a paper for him. I didn't know for sure. All I knew was that at that moment I wasn't willing to write a single word for him.

Still, he looked good. His dark hair stood out noticeably against the light tones in my mother's ivory living room. I watched him turn and stare at my home. What he saw was a pristine room. The couch was a bit faded, but every cushion, pillow, and ruffle sat in its proper place. There were no papers or magazines in sight—only a dusted coffee table with a single candle in the center. On a bookcase by the television, novels and videocassettes lined the shelves in order from largest to smallest. There were no smudges on any glass surface and there were dark and light lines on the carpet from a recent vacuuming.

Mom had wanted to redecorate the year before, but Dad said it was a waste of good money. Mom ran to my Great Aunt Kay to complain. So Aunt Kay decided to buy herself new furniture, and she said she would let us have her old 70

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cream-colored set. It was a step up for us, but Mom still wasn't satisfied. Dad budged a little though and let her paint the walls.

"Whoa," Luke said. He ran his hand over a corner table and then examined his fingers. They came away clean and free of dust.

"I know." I stood next to him, temporarily forgetting my irritation. "I told my mom she would make millions if she ever started her own cleaning service."

"She would," he agreed. "I know my mom would hire her instantly. She's not very happy with the cleaning lady we have now."

Leave it to him to mention his family could afford a cleaning service.

"Thanks a lot."

Luke turned to stare at me. He seemed surprised to hear my tone of voice. "What?"

I looked away and started for the kitchen. "Nothing." He followed me. I could feel him right behind me. "No. That was definitely something. What'd I say?" I spun around so quickly he had to pull up short to keep from plowing into me. The distance between us was close enough I had to move back a step to stay mad. Otherwise, I would've melted right there at his feet.

"I already realize your family is so much better off than mine. And I already know you could afford a cleaning lady while my family probably should be cleaning houses to put more money toward our debts. I'm also well aware of the fact I'm poor and you're rich, OK. So you don't have to rub it in." 71

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"What?!" Luke grabbed my arm. "I didn't mean that." I pulled away to ground my fisted hands onto my hips and glare up at him. "But didn't you?"

"Absolutely not," he insisted. I watched him squint his eyes and grit his teeth. "I wasn't thinking of money at all when I said it. And I wasn't trying to rub anything in." He pointed a finger at my nose and stepped closer, towering over me until I had to crane my head back to see the fury in his eyes. "I'm sick of you always attacking me. Who cares about who has more money? It doesn't make a bit of difference about anything."

"Oh yeah," I said. "I bet you know exactly how much my daddy owes your daddy."

Luke took a step away, breathing heavily. He ran his hand through his hair, letting the black locks fall wildly. When he eyed me again, he seemed a bit calmer. "He doesn't owe my dad anything. If he has a debt, then it's with the bank."

"But you know what his debt is, don't you?" When Luke's face flushed, I shot back. "You do!"

"Oh, who cares what I know," Luke said, his voice growing louder. "It doesn't mean anything."

"It does," I said. "It's important." Luke stopped his argument then. He stared at me for a second, taking in my red face, my rising and falling chest, and my fisted hands. His shoulders dropped and he said, "You know, Carrie, it's only important because you're making it important."

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I looked away, a little guilty, and I crossed my arms selfconsciously. "I'm not the only one. Everybody in this whole town puts value on who owns what and who makes what."