Chapter 2

Liam was smart. Scary smart.

He explained Shakespeare like it was a comic book, made history feel like gossip.

But he was also hungry.

I saw him skip lunch a few times.

He' d just sit in the library, reading, while everyone else was in the cafeteria.

His excuse was always, "Not hungry," or "Brought something."

I knew he was lying.

So, the next tutoring session, I brought extra.

"My dad' s chef overdid it," I said, pulling out a container of pasta salad and a thick sandwich. "You' d be doing me a favor."

He stared at the food. Then at me.

"I... I can' t," he mumbled.

"It' s for the tutoring," I said quickly. "Think of it as, like, a bonus. For putting up with my terrible essays."

He hesitated. His stomach growled, a quiet, embarrassed rumble.

Finally, he took the sandwich. "Thanks."

It became a thing. I' d bring food. Sometimes a new notebook, or pens that weren' t about to run out of ink.

"Found these on sale," I' d say.

His worn-out sneakers bothered me the most.

One Saturday, I went shopping and bought a pair of new, sturdy basketball shoes.

"My brother outgrew these," I lied on Monday, holding out the box. "They' re practically new. Your size, I think."

He looked at the box, then at his own shoes, then back at me, his expression unreadable.

"Hailey..."

"Just try them," I urged. "If they don' t fit, no big deal."

He slowly took the box. The next day, he wore them. He seemed to walk a little taller.

Our grades were the next hurdle. Mine were slowly climbing. His were, as always, perfect.

Then came the mid-term history exam with Ms. Davison.

I studied, Liam helped, but when I saw the questions, my mind went blank.

Panic set in. I glanced, just for a second, at Liam' s paper. He was already halfway done, his answers neat and precise.

Ms. Davison was patrolling the aisles like a hawk.

Her shadow fell over my desk. "Miss Sterling. Eyes on your own paper."

My face burned.

After the exam, she called me to her desk. "Hailey, your answers on the essay portion are... remarkably similar to Mr. O' Connell' s."

"I... we studied together," I stammered.

"Studying together is one thing. Identical phrasing is another." Her voice was cold. "I' m considering this a serious breach of academic integrity."

My heart pounded. My dad would kill me.

Liam was standing by the door, waiting for me. He must have heard.

He stepped forward. "Ms. Davison, I think Hailey might have seen my paper. I sit in front of her. I should have been more careful covering my work."

Ms. Davison looked from him to me. "Is that so, Mr. O' Connell? Taking responsibility?"

"It was my fault for not being discreet," he said, his voice steady.

She looked suspicious but eventually said, "A warning for you both. Next time, it' s a zero and a call to your parents, Hailey. And Mr. O' Connell, your scholarship depends on impeccable conduct."

My dad did get a call, a milder version. He was disappointed but believed me when I said I hadn' t meant to cheat. "Just be smarter, Hailey. And work harder."

I felt terrible. Liam had protected me.

"I' m so sorry, Liam," I told him later. "I' ll study harder. I promise."

He just nodded. "Okay."

Then, in English class, Ms. Davison was on a rampage.

Liam' s glasses were old, the frames held together with tape on one side.

He squinted to read a passage she' d written on the board.

"Mr. O' Connell," she snapped. "If you cannot see the board, perhaps you should invest in new spectacles. Or are those family heirlooms?"

A few students snickered. Bryce smirked.

Liam' s face turned a dull red.

I stood up. "They' re just glasses! And he can see fine! He' s the smartest person in this class!"

Ms. Davison' s eyes narrowed. "Hailey Sterling, sit down. Your outburst is uncalled for. Perhaps you two spend too much time together. I' ll be speaking to the headmaster about reassigning your tutor."

The threat hung in the air. Separating us.