Thanks again for the reviews you guys
Chapter 4…
Oh man I am most certainly going to fail this test, thought Amy.She looked around the room – it seemed like everyone else was working just fine, but she just didn't get math. Period. She didn't see the point– for example, when was she ever going to use her "knowledge" of logarithms or parametric equations?
So, a week later, when she received her test and got a D, she couldn't help but feel relieved. However, her teacher, seemed to think otherwise, for when she got home, her mother greeted her with rather unpleasant news.
"So, I got a call from your math teacher today," Monica began.
"I know, I know, I'm practically failing – but not quite," Amy protested.
"He says you're not trying hard enough," Monica countered. "And he wants you to get a tutor. He suggested one – Billy Ryan, do you know him?"
"Yeah, kinda. He's a senior who's going to Princeton or something – he's a genius."
"Well, apparently he needs some money or something, so hopefully he can whip you into shape."
"Right," Amy muttered.
The next night, when Amy heard Billy knock on the front door, she felt like crawling under the covers and never coming out – she not only hated math, she hated the idea that some kid who was only two years older than her was going to come in and make her feel even more stupid.
"Hey, Billy."
"Hello Amy."
"So…"
"Yes, I understand you need some help with algebra."
"Yes, yes, lots of help."
"Alright, I brought my books."
When Billy left, Amy had to admit to herself that she had been wrong. He wasn't condescending and was overall very helpful. And she had to confess… he was pretty cute too – she never noticed at school because she just pegged him as a dork, but now she was being forced to take another look.
"He seems familiar," Monica mused. "I just can't place it… Maybe I know his parents?"
"I think he lives with an adopted family… one time he wrote this column in the school newspaper about never knowing his parents – it hit home," Amy replied, trying to make her mom feel guilty.
However, that attempt didn't work because Monica's brain was hard at work about who this mysterious stranger could be.
Meanwhile, Amy got closer and closer to Billy through their study sessions, which were turning out to not be very productive. So when Billy asked Amy to the Valentines Dance, Monica had seen it coming for miles.
Of course, after they had dated for awhile, there came the inevitable embarrassment of sharing baby pictures, and once such night, Billy brought his over to lessen Amy's pain from her mother's constant sharing.
"I don't have very many baby pictures," he began. "I've been with my adopted parents since I was around two or three years old, so I only have this one picture with my biological parents and me."
Monica's mouth hung, gaping, even though she was trying desperately to be polite. The picture showed a baby Billy, being held by his beaming father, who was tall with brown hair, with his proud mother – a shorter redhead, looking on.
