me their “son” or their “boy.”
“Okay, so, Mrs. Sever said that the test would cover these two chapters.” Nathan shows me the part in his textbook.
“So how much do you need to review?”
“All of it.”
“Oh, okay. Wow. Well, let’s go ahead and get started.”
Nathan isn’t totally hopeless, and I’m not sure why he thinks he is. There are a few times where he’ll mess up on an equation, or misremember the order of something, but he isn’t a lost cause. I try to recall all the ways I’ve remembered the dozens of formulas over the years, rhymes or songs or acronyms.
“How do you remember all this stuff?” he asks me.
“Don’t know.” I’ve always been good at math. “It’s sort of easy.” I flip through his review packet again. “It says there’s a practice test online you can take, and you’ll get ten extra points on the quiz.”
Nathan grabs his laptop and types in the website. “Math should be illegal.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Says you.” When prompted for his school, he picks “North Wake High School,” types in his student ID, and hits the big blue start button underneath. “Shit,” he whispers under his breath after reading the first question.
“Look.” I grab his notebook and flip to an empty sheet. “Here, just work it out.” I watch him copy down the problem, carefully making his way through it. “Remember to move that over,” I add.
“There?” He shows me his work.
“Type it in, see if it’s right,” I say, even though I know he’s got it.
The website gives him a little “Good Job!” before it moves on to the next question. “Jesus, how long is this quiz?”
I reach for my bag at the foot of his bed. “You’ve done one question, stop whining.” I open my sketchbook to the newest page. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m already close to needing a new one. The pages are sticking out, notes and sketches pouring from the seams, and I’ve only got a handful of empty pages left. “Just keep going.”
“Fine, Mom.” He groans, pulling the laptop closer. “What are you drawing?”
“Not sure yet. I’ll let you see when you’re finished.” I turn so I can hide the sketchbook from view. “Now get to work. Those ten points will come in handy.”
“Fine, fine.” He starts to work again. “Hey, what about this?” Nathan hands me his notebook, and I check over his work. “The answers aren’t adding up.”
I read over his equations quickly. “Close, you got the root wrong here.” It’s not that far up into the problem, so he won’t have to redo too much work. “Try that again and it should work out.” I hand the notebook back to him.
He lets out a long sigh and erases his work. “This is torture.”
“I know, but you’re getting there,” I say, trying to focus back on my drawing. Except I can’t think of anything to draw. My mind has gone totally blank, I can’t envision anything; hell, I can’t even think where I’m supposed to start. Just a line, and then another line. I huff and lean my head back.
“Stuck?” Nathan asks without looking at me.
“Sort of.”
“I get that way sometimes too. When I’m writing.”
“Oh yeah? Any tips for getting out of it?”
“I’m not the artist here.” He grins. “Maybe draw something around you?”
“Like?”
“That, my Padawan, is all up to you.” He points at me with the eraser end of his pencil.
“Have I ever told you how helpful you are?” I ask.
“No.”
“Good, because you aren’t.” It doesn’t occur to me how mean that could sound until I’ve already said it, but Nathan’s just laughing away.
“You asked,” he half sings. Maybe he’s right, except there really isn’t anything in this room that I know. Well, there’s one thing. But would drawing Nathan be too creepy? He’s sitting still enough, and there’s enough light.
You know what? Screw it.
It’s weird to have a Nathan that isn’t moving or talking with his hands. He’s in the thick of it, the gears in his head turning. He’s even sticking out his tongue a little, and I hate to admit that it’s totally adorable.
In fact, I don’t think there’s one imperfection. Not the bumps on his chin, the small cut on his cheek that I’m guessing is from shaving, the slight circles under his eyes. It all feels on purpose. I don’t think Nathan Allan is capable of accidents. He doesn’t seem like the type.
I start with his pose, a skeleton. Easy enough, his back against the wall, both