After closing the door, I went straight to my bedroom to find something to wear. Quickly undressing, I pulled out my favorite jeans from the pile in the closet, but when I buttoned the top, it dug into my skin and hurt. Same thing with my second-favorite pair. Which meant I’d probably have to wear the same baggy ones I’d worn on the ferry. I sorted through my tops, but thankfully they still fit. I picked something maroon with long sleeves. For shoes, though, I didn’t have much. Sneakers, slippers, rubber boots, and Uggs. Uggs it would be.
With that decided, I showered, brushed my teeth, and dried my hair. After dabbing on some makeup, I slipped into the clothes I’d picked out. Because my aunt had been so insistent about the cleanliness thing, my room was all set, so all I really had to do was straighten the sheet, pull up the comforter, and prop Maggie-bear against the pillow. Not, of course, that I had any intention of showing him my bedroom, but if he needed to use the bathroom and peeked in, he might notice that I kept things tidy.
Not that it mattered.
I washed and dried the plate, glass, and utensils I’d used for breakfast, but other than that, the kitchen was all set. I pulled open the drapes, letting more light into the house, and taking a deep breath, went to the door.
Opening it, I saw him sitting on the front porch, legs perched on the steps.
“Oh, hey,” he said, no doubt hearing me behind him. He realigned the pile and got to his feet, then suddenly froze. He stared as though seeing me for the first time. “Wow. You look really nice.”
“Thanks,” I answered, thinking that maybe I looked all right, even if I would never be as pretty as Morgan. But even so, I felt my cheeks redden slightly. “I just threw on whatever was lying around. You ready?”
“Let me grab this stuff.”
He gathered up the stack and I stepped back so he could squeeze through the door. He stopped, no doubt wondering where to go.
“The kitchen table is fine,” I said, motioning. “That’s where I usually work.”
In those rare instances I do work, I thought. And when I wasn’t doing it in bed, which I wasn’t about to tell him.
“Perfect,” he said. In the kitchen, he set the stack on the table, pulled out the manila folder at the top, and settled in the chair I’d used for breakfast. Meanwhile, I was still thinking about what he’d said to me on the porch, and even though I’d invited him inside, the fact that he was actually at the kitchen table felt bizarre, like something you might see on television or at the movies but never expected to experience in real life.
I shook my head, thinking, I need to get hold of myself. Starting toward the kitchen, I veered to the cupboards near the sink. “Would you like some water? I’m going to get a glass.”
“That would be great, thanks.”
I filled two glasses and brought them to the table, then sat in the spot that was usually my aunt’s. I was struck by the thought that the house looked entirely different from this angle, which made me wonder how it appeared to Bryce.
“Did you see the paper I wrote?”
“I read it,” he said. “He’s one of the most prominent justices ever to serve. Did you choose him, or did the teacher assign it?”
“The teacher picked it.”
“You got lucky there because there’s so much to write about.” He folded his hands in front of him. “Let’s start with this. How do you think you’re doing in your classes?”
I hadn’t expected the question and it took me a second to answer. “I’m doing okay, I guess. Especially considering that I’m supposed to learn all this on my own without having a teacher. I didn’t do all that great on my recent quizzes or tests, but there’s still time to get my grades up.”
“Do you want to get your grades up?”
“What do you mean?”
“I grew up hearing my mom say ‘There is no teaching, there is only learning’ over and over. I must have heard it more than a hundred times, and for a long time, I didn’t know what she meant. Because she was my teacher, right? Was she telling me that she wasn’t a teacher? But as I got a little older, I finally understood that she was telling me that teaching is impossible unless a student wants to learn. I guess that’s another way I could have phrased it. Do you want to learn? Really and truly? Or do you simply want to do enough to get by?”
Just like on the ferry, he came across as more mature than other people his age, but maybe because his tone was so nice, it made me reflect on what he was really asking.