Page 14 of The Enemy Plot
“Uh, because she asked me to?”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, leaning against the corridor wall. “It’s—”
“I know you can’t understand the concept of kindness,” I cut in, “but it’s really no big deal. I’ll take a look at her French homework and be out of here before you know it.”
He cocks his head to the side slightly. Just when he’s about to open his mouth, Lola steps out of her room with a large blue backpack.
Deacon returns to his painting while Lola and I sit down at the kitchen table. I try to focus on her essay, but I have to reread it numerous times before the words actually sink in. I keep replaying that exchange with Deacon, our first one-on-one conversation where we weren’t throwing snide remarks at each other. Finally, I get my act together and help Lola with a few corrections on her work. I explain some key grammar rules the best I can, then help her rewrite a few sentences.
“Thank you so much,” she says once we’re done. “You’re the best.” She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight for a few seconds.
“Of course.” I can’t hold back my smile. “It’s my pleasure. I hope you get a good grade.”
“I know I will! Mrs. Dubois will be so pleased.”
“All done?” Deacon says, walking into the kitchen. He grabs a glass from the cupboard and pours himself some water.
“Yes,” Lola says, slipping her copybook into her backpack.
“Either of you want something to drink?” Deacon asks, taking a gulp of water before leaning against the counter. My eyes trail down his muscular body. The way his black shirt molds to his fit chest, how his biceps bulge when he brings the glass to his lips. That body, coupled with that voice, has probably left a lot of broken hearts in its wake. And suddenly, it feels a little too warm in here.
I stumble up from the table. “Well, I’m going to go,” I say, looking at Lola. “But let me know if you need any more help.”
A slight frown clouds her features. “Okay. Thanks again.” She stands up and walks me to the door. Once we reach it, I escape the apartment as fast as I can.
7
Code Red
Deacon
Lola’s attitude has been gradually improving ever since I let her go to that book-club thing next door. Actually, she’s spending every spare moment outside of school with our neighbors. But I’m not hating it. She seems more relaxed, happier than I’ve ever seen her.
She even told me about the book she’s reading on the train ride to school.
After painting the last room upstairs, I swing by the store, getting back just in time for my appointment with Dr. Stewart. We both sit down, and the grilling begins.
We talk about Lola first, but somehow, he finds a way to make the situation about me as soon as I mention she’s now friends with Alice.
“And what do you think about this blossoming friendship?” Dr. S. asks. “As I understand it, you weren’t too fond of your neighbor.”
“Well, she’s not the type of person I get along with, but she’s not a bad influence on Lola, so I don’t mind.” Having a female presence in Lola’s life might be a good thing, even if that presence comes with rainbows and butterflies.
“What is your type of person, then? You have me curious.”
I cross my arms. “The silent kind that doesn’t bother me.”
“Ah, I see.” One corner of his lips twitches as he scribbles something in his notebook.
It’s not a lie. I’ve never been a relationship person. My grandma set me up countless times, but those dates never really went anywhere. “I’d much rather be alone.”
“Why do you think that is?” he asks. “That you prefer to be alone. Most humans are drawn to others. It’s how we’re wired.”
I shrug. “I’m just different from most people.”
“In what way?”
I clench my teeth. What’s this guy’s deal? Does he want to highlight how antisocial and unlikable I am? ‘Cause I don’t need a therapist for that. “Why are we talking about me?” I ask, my jaw tight. “We’re here for Lola.”