That Saturday, Mal and I meet at the library again. We spend about the same amount of time there, though there are a few more problems in the given set than last time. I'm starting to get tired of explaining things, but we're on our last problem, so I push on. I read the problem through and quickly work out my solution before checking it in the back.
"Holy hell," Mal exclaims in astonishment as I solve the problem, box the answer, and validate the solution in the back—all in a few minutes. "How are you so fast? It takes me, like, a year to finish one problem."
I laugh. "It just takes practice," I say modestly. "It's not like I came out of the womb with a science book." This earns me a laugh from Mal.
He furrows his brow as he works out a solution that is about nine numbers off from the actual answer.
"Ugh, this is stupid!" he mutters, tossing down his pencil. "I keep getting the wrong answer. How'd you get sixty-six?"
I explain again. "... So since the pipe's length equals three-quarters of the total wavelength, the total length of the pipe is sixty-six centimeters," I conclude. Understanding flashes through Mal's eyes, which I just now notice are a very nice shade of blue. They resemble the color of the ocean.
"Ahh, so that's what I did wrong." Mal erases part of his work, re-calculates it, and circles the now-correct solution.
"There ya' go," I smile.
"I think I'm starting to get it," Mal admits with a hint of relief in his voice.
"I think so, too," I affirm.
"Hopefully," he adds. "The exam on this is Wednesday."
"If you wanna review once more before the test," I begin with a little hesitation, "we can meet after school or something. If you'd like to, of course," I quickly add.
"That would be great," he replies, flashing a half-smile. "I, uh, if it's not too much trouble, that is."
"It's not a problem," I assure him as we head towards the door.
"Is your mom getting you again, or do you need a ride home?" he asks.
"My mom is—" Just then, my phone buzzes audibly in my pocket. I slide it out and read a text from my mom.
I'm at an appointment with Neha, so I can't pick you up for another hour. Can the boy drive you home if you're not done by then?
"Actually, uh, my mom's at an appointment with my sister, so..." I stammer ungracefully. "If it's not an inconvenience..."
"Nah, it's fine," he assures me, grabbing his keys.
We walk outside to where Mal's car is parked. The afternoon sunlight immediately blinds me, making me squint against the bright beams.
"You can toss your bag in the back," Mal mumbles as he unlocks the door. I comply, then climb in the passenger seat.
He twists the key into the ignition, and loud, hard rock music immediately floods the speakers. I wince and instinctively throw him a "turn the damn music down" look.
"Oops, sorry," he mutters after twisting the dial back down to a healthy decibel. "How far do you live?"
"About ten minutes," I answer. "Just follow main street for a few miles, and I'll tell you where to turn."
He nods, then pulls out of the parking lot. For such a rough persona, he's a surprisingly gentle driver.
Just then, my phone vibrates against my thigh, and I fish it out of my pocket, answering the call on the last ring.
"Hello?" I chime into it. Mal glances over, sees I'm on the phone, and turns back to the road.
"Hi!" comes my mother's voice from the other line. I hear Neha shouting some form of a protest in the background. "Neha has to get some shots, so I can't talk long; I'll have to hold her down. Are you able to get a ride?"
I laugh. "Yeah, I'm on my way home."
"Oh, good," she replies as another angry squeal from Neha erupts. "I need to go, your sister's throwing a fit. I should be home a little while after you."
"All right, sounds good!"
"Love you!"
"Love you, too," I reply before hanging up.
A few moments later, Mal stops at a red light, and I notice he is looking at me.
"What?" I inquire, tossing him an odd look.
"Oh, uh, nothing," he mutters quickly, turning back to the road.
I shrug, letting it go. A couple minutes later, he asks, "How old is your sister?"
"Almost two," I answer. He nods. "Do you have any siblings?" I continue, attempting to keep the conversation alive.
"Yeah, just a sister," he answers, easing on the accelerator as the light turns green. "She's twenty-one."
"Oh," I comment, unsure of what else to say. "That's cool."
After a few moments, he asks, "Are you close with your mom?
Taken by surprise, I manage, "Well, uh, yeah, I guess... Closer than my dad, anyways. I think he mainly just wishes my sister or I were a boy," I add in a slightly-joking tone. Though my father has never specifically said it, I've always caught little hints of the thought, thrown unconsciously into his speech. He tried to get me to play baseball (not softball) when I was younger, but it quickly became apparent that I had little-to-no athletic abilities when it came to sports. I can run, but I cannot do anything that requires a ball. The second Neha learns to walk on her own, I'm sure he'll try it with her, too.
He casts me a questioning glance, so I clarify. "Family business heirs," I state with a sigh, as if that explains everything.
"Ah," he says, seeming to understand despite my vague statement.
"How 'bout you?" I ask. Come to think of it, I'd never heard him talk about his parents. Not that I've really talked about mine, either, but my mother had called a couple times while in his presence, so at least he knows they exist.
He seems to stiffen a little, and I begin to regret the question.
"Um... With my mom, yeah," he answers a bit cryptically.
"But not with your dad?" I press lightly.
"Well, considering that he's currently serving thirty-five-to-life for corruption, racketeering, and extortion," he snaps, turning his head to angrily glare at me, "no, we're not exactly best buds."
Good Lord, Natara, why can't you just keep your damn mouth shut?
"Oh! I, uh... I'm sorry," I stammer in shock. "I... I didn't realize..."
The momentary anger fades from his eyes and he sighs, looking even more tired than he did before.
"It's fine," he mumbles, stopping again at a red light. He glances over at me. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped. You didn't know."
"It's okay," I reply with a reassuring smile. He manages a slight smile back. "Don't worry about it."
We don't talk for the next couple minutes; the heavy bass of the music takes over.
Ugh, how can anyone stand to listen to this crap?
"Turn left at the next light," I instruct as we approach the turn-off.
"Okay." Mal flips his left turn-signal on and pulls into the left-turn lane, waiting for the light to turn.
I guide him through several more turns as we enter my neighborhood. I'm suddenly overly-aware of the fact that I don't exactly live in the poor part of town. Most of the houses around here are a little more ritzy than your average living facility.
"Geez," is all he comments as he pulls into my driveway to let me out. I don't know how to reply to that, so I don't.
"Thanks for the ride," I say as I slide out and grab my bag from the backseat.
"No problem," he replies. "Thanks for the help."
"Sure," I smile. We make momentary eye contact before I shut the car door and fish out my house keys. As I disappear inside, I hear Mal's car rumbling off down the street.
I open the door to an empty house. My mother and Neha are apparently still out, and my father won't be home from work for another couple hours. Unsure of what to do, I head to the living room, collapse on the couch, and flick on the TV, where I perch until my mom walks in the door with a sleeping Neha in hand.
"And I thought you were bad with shots," she utters in exasperation, tossing her purse down with little regard to where it might land.
"What happened?" I laugh, turning off the television. I stand and follow her to Neha's room.
"She took one look at the needle and screamed for a good ten minutes before she even got on the table," she starts as she lays my sister down in her crib. "Then it took another ten minutes of coaxing her to let the doctor roll up her sleeve. And I'm sure you can imagine how the rest turned out."
"Was I like that?" I inquire with amusement as we walk out of the room, softly closing the door behind us.
"You weren't too happy about it," she tells me with a smile, "but you weren't protesting quite to the decibel Neha accomplished. She's gonna be a loud one, that's for sure," my mother adds with a soft chuckle.
"Are you hungry?" she asks as we reach the kitchen. "Your father has to work late, so he won't be home 'til after dinner. He said to go ahead and eat."
"Again?" I complain with a sigh, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"I'm afraid so," she mutters, exhaling heavily. "Is spaghetti good?"
"Sounds great," I reply, suddenly realizing how hungry I am. "I'll be upstairs."
My mother nods. "I'll call you when it's ready."