Chapter 3

The day arrived once more—the day Ethan would ask me about tutoring.

As I slipped past him to my seat, my hand accidentally grazed the starched collar of his shirt. The hand holding his pencil over a sheet of scratch paper stilled for a second, then trembled so badly he nearly lost his grip.

He shot me a quick glance, then pulled his chair a few inches forward.

I slipped into my seat and found myself staring at Ethan, my head propped in my hand. How could I have been so blind to the quiet, decent boy beside me, believing…