Harper didn't come downstairs the next morning until I had nearly finished my breakfast. She rushed in with only three minutes to spare before we had to leave for the bus, her hair dishevelled and wild. My dad, noticing her state, asked if everything was okay, but she waved off his concern and sat down, hurriedly eating her cereal like she was racing the clock.
"I'm full," I said, pushing my chair back and heading into the foyer to put on my shoes. From the kitchen, my mum called out, "It's getting late. Could you show Harper where to catch her bus?"
I had anticipated this, but it didn't make the task any less annoying. Babysitting Harper wasn't exactly how I wanted to start my day, and the frustration gnawed at me. When she came over to put her shoes on, I kept my eyes fixed forward, avoiding her gaze. Maybe she noticed, but honestly, I didn't care.
Finley was shouting from his chair that he wanted to walk with me too, but Mum was insistent that he stay seated. Finley's school started half an hour after mine and was within walking distance so there was no need for him to walk with us.
I set off for the bus stop at my usual pace—or maybe a bit faster—hoping to put some distance between us. The last thing I needed was people at school seeing us together. Rumours spread like wildfire, and I'd had more than enough of being the centre of gossip for one year. Behind me, I could hear Harper struggling to keep up, practically jogging and panting to match my stride.
Suddenly, I stopped. If I was going to have to put up with this, I might as well set the ground rules. "Just so you know," I began, keeping my tone flat, "the bus stops right outside the school. But you should probably keep your distance from me in the future. I don't want things to get any more complicated than they already are."
Harper's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting that. Maybe she had some idealistic version of me in her head, left over from when she wrote me that love letter. But I wasn't here to meet her expectations.
"And don't go telling anyone we're living together," I added, lowering my voice. "I don't want any rumours spreading around school."
Her expression shifted quickly, from surprise to anger. She huffed, crossing her arms in defiance. "I already know that," she snapped, her voice sharp.
Not the reaction I was expecting but I decided not to let the conversation drag out and carried on to the bus stop.
That day, everything went back to normal—or as normal as it could be. I still got the occasional stares from girls around school, but no one was whispering or pointing in my direction. The drama from last week seemed to have faded, replaced by the latest gossip. My classes were the usual mix of lectures about stuff I already knew, plus more talk about our final exams. It was dull, to say the least.
When I got home, Harper trailed in behind me, having fallen far behind during the walk. I had made sure not to leave her completely out of sight since she didn't know the way, but I'd kept my distance. She kicked off her shoes the moment we walked through the door and bolted upstairs, muttering something under her breath about not being beaten. Whatever that meant.
Later in the evening, I went down to the kitchen and found Mum tidying up after taking something up to Harper.
"Harper's studying," she said with a light smile as she put away some dishes. I sighed, helping her load the dishwasher.
"You know," she continued, "I bet she'd really appreciate it if you helped her study."
I rolled my eyes, not even trying to hide my irritation. Isn't it enough that I have to live with her? Now she wants me to tutor her too?
"I'm sure she'll manage," I replied, "besides, she's doing the lower-tier exams anyway. It can't be that hard." If I started spending time with Harper at home, no doubt my Mum would get fantastical ideas about our relationship and would have us married the moment we turned 18.
Mum just sighed and commented, "she's such a nice girl and she tries so hard." I finished up helping her and headed back up to my room, settling down with my book before finally settling down to sleep.
When I got downstairs this morning, Harper was already seated at the breakfast table, a little more organised than the previous day. I grabbed some toast and pulled back a seat before sitting down beside Finley, opposite to where Harper sat. I could have sworn I heard her giggle. I quickly glanced over at her and she had the strangest expression on her face, like she was hiding something and she was excited about it. Was she planning a childish prank? Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised if she had stuck something to my back or done something equally as immature.
On the way into the foyer, paranoia got the better of me. I quickly checked my back, trying to figure out what she might be up to. Harper kept up the strange behavior all the way to school, chuckling behind me as if she found something hilarious. My anxiety grew with every step.
It wasn't until lunchtime in the canteen that I figured out what she'd done. Opening my bag to pull out my food, I froze. Instead of my usual lunchbox, I found a bright pink one with Harper's name scribbled across it in glittery purple letters. A surge of frustration bubbled up inside me. How low could she stoop? What was the point of this ridiculous prank? Taking a deep breath, I stood up, determined not to make a scene despite my irritation.
I marched over to Harper's table, where she and her friends had just sat down. They all stared at me in shock. "You," I muttered, keeping my voice steady but firm. "Come with me." Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her outside where no one would overhear our conversation.
"What do you want?" Harper asked, sounding far too innocent for my liking.
"This isn't funny! What kind of juvenile prank is this?!" I yelled, pulling her lunch box from our of my bag. To my surprise, she actually looked kind of shocked as she reached into her own bag and pulled out her own lunch box. Maybe it wasn't her doing after all.
"Maybe it was a mix-up on my mother's side. It's been nothing but trouble since you came to my house," I remarked, picking up on the fact that Harper was getting visibly annoyed. But suddenly, her anger gave way to that sly smile that she had donned this morning and I felt my stomach start to churn. "What?" I asked, starting to wonder if I even want to know.
"We better be careful, huh? Wouldn't want you to accidentally wear my skirt to school," she chuckled, reaching into her bag. A pit formed in my stomach, and I suddenly knew exactly where this was headed. Sure enough, she pulled out an old photo of me, back when my mum used to dress me up as a girl. This was the first time I think I have ever felt pure terror as I realised what she had in her possession.
"Where did you get that?!" I yelled, lunging to snatch the photo, but Harper stuffed it into her breast pocket, grinning knowingly. There was no way I could get it back without crossing a line I wasn't willing to cross.
"I've already seen the others, too. How cute. Of course, your Mum gave it to me," she giggled.
My face flushed hot with embarrassment and rage. "Give it back, now!" I demanded, holding out my hand.
"I'll give it back, don't worry," she said with a smile. "But you have to help me pass my mock exams next week. All of them."
I paused for a second, trying to gauge the plausibility of such a task. "Which subjects did you fail last time?" I was sure it wouldn't be too difficult if she fell a bit short in a couple of subjects. However, the look on Harper's face didn't give me much hope. "Pretty much all of them," she admitted.
I felt the anger creeping back in, she was blackmailing me to spend my time trying to achieve something beyond her abilities? ""Are you insane?!" My anger returned almost immediately. "You want me to tutor you in every single subject to a passing level? That's impossible!"
"Okay, fine," she said as she turned around and crossed her arms. "I guess I'll just post this on Facebook for everyone to see, then."
"Alright, fine! I'll tutor you, but I can't make any promises about you passing," I stood there, still seething. This wasn't fair. The chances of getting her to pass all her exams seemed slim at best, but I didn't have a choice. If I could come up with a solid plan, maybe—just maybe—I could make some progress with her.
That evening, as we finished dinner, I turned to my mum and casually asked, "Could you bring up some tea for Harper and me while we study?"
She blinked, clearly taken aback. "Studying? With Harper?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her tone hovering between disbelief and amusement. "Wow, I'm impressed!"
From across the table, Finley chimed in, "I want to study too!" His enthusiasm was palpable, but I quickly shook my head.
"You don't need to, Finley." I said firmly.
Later, as I settled down at Harper's desk, the room felt quieter than usual. I glanced over at her and noticed a nervous sigh escape her lips. I wondered if she'd ever been alone with a guy like this before. For that matter, the only other girl I had spent much time with was Sophia, the neighbour's daughter. But we were never that close, and her family moved to America a few years ago.
"What subjects do you need help with?" I asked, trying to keep things on track.
She fidgeted with her maths textbook for a moment before handing it over, open to a page they'd been covering in class that week. I glanced at the material and started circling topics I figured would come up in the exam. After a moment, I paused. It would probably be more efficient to figure out where she was struggling instead of blindly going over everything.
"Let's do this," I said, grabbing some paper. "I'll draft a few practice questions, and we'll see how you do." Harper nodded, though I could tell she was nervous. I gave her about twenty minutes to work through them.
But as the minutes ticked by, it became painfully clear that she was struggling. I had hoped she'd at least be able to tackle a couple of the questions, but her pencil hovered over the paper, barely moving. Twenty minutes stretched into forty, and we were nearing the hour mark. I couldn't just sit there, watching her get more frustrated with each scratch of her head over every equation.
"Are you not done yet?" I asked, my patience thinning with every passing minute.
Harper jumped slightly, clearly frazzled. "I answered the ones I think I know, but I just couldn't do the others," she said, handing the paper back to me with a whine. I glanced at it, trying to figure out what I was looking at. Most of the answers were completely wrong. I frowned and pointed to one of the numbers.
"How did you do this? Where are your workings out?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
She gave me a sheepish smile, attempting to lighten the mood. "Is that a requirement?" Her attempt at humour fell flat, and it was obvious she hadn't even thought about showing her work.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. She wasn't just struggling—she needed to be taught from the ground up. Whose fault was it that Harper had never learned this properly? I wasn't sure, but what I did know was that we had a long night ahead of us.
Determined, I spent the next couple of hours going through each topic step by step, making sure she listened as I explained everything. At first, I wasn't sure how much was sinking in, but then something finally clicked.
"So the answer is…" Harper said, writing carefully on her notepad. "X = 72." She looked at me expectantly.
I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "That's right."
"YAY!" she suddenly shouted, jumping up out of her seat, nearly toppling her chair. "Oliver, I did it!" Her face lit up in pure joy, and she clapped her hands, practically bouncing with excitement.
I stared at her, a bit stunned by the enthusiasm. She'd solved one question, and she was so happy she was practically dancing. I didn't get it—how could someone get so excited over something so small?
Before I could process her reaction, my mum walked in, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. "Don't mind me, you two. Carry on. I'm not even here," she giggled, setting the tray down in front of us.
There was something in her tone that made me suspicious, but I ignored it, turning back to Harper as she started on the next equation. Suddenly, I heard the distinct click of a camera. I spun around, catching my mum standing there with her DSLR, laughing to herself.
"Sorry, I just wanted to keep that as a memory. It was just too cute!" she said, trying to hide her smile behind her hand. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she added, "It would be great if you two got married!"
My temper flared. "What are you thinking?!" I shouted, feeling my frustration boil over. I should've seen this coming from the moment Harper moved in. My parents never missed a chance to try and steer my life, and now this would become her latest project. I could see it already.
I glanced over at Harper, who had gone completely still, staring down at her notebook. The excitement from moments before had evaporated, leaving her looking flustered and frozen in place.
"You, get back to your question," I muttered, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. I watched as my mum, still giggling, left the room, the door closing softly behind her. We spent some more time that evening finishing up her Maths work before finally retiring for bed in the early hours of the morning.
The following evening, we had moved on to Harper's French homework. I wasn't entirely sure why she'd chosen French for her GCSEs since she didn't seem to know a single word of it. Then again, why does Harper do anything?
"How do you say, 'I will go by plane' in French?" I asked, watching her hesitate. She fumbled for a second, sounding out words that she seemed to think were right.
"Je suis avion?" she offered, her voice uncertain.
I suppressed a sigh, noticing the frustration building in her expression. Learning a new language was no small task, especially when you had little foundation to build on. But she needed the right tools to help it click. I started breaking down the grammar, guiding her through the basics, and offering tips to memorise vocabulary that might at least help her scrape a passing grade.
When it finally seemed like some of it was sticking, I drafted up a short paragraph for her to translate. One thing I'd noticed about Harper—she always approached the tasks I gave her with enthusiasm, even when she struggled. Sure, she might complain here and there about how hard it was, but she never gave up. It was somewhat admirable. A lot of people would've thrown in the towel by now, but not her.
As I watched her puzzle over some of the trickier phrases I'd tossed into the paragraph, my eyelids began to feel heavy. What time was it? I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was already past midnight.
When she finished this exercise, it would definitely be time to call it a night. Just a few more minutes, I told myself. I'll rest my eyes for a second…
It was the first day of the mock exams, and to my surprise, Harper actually looked somewhat excited. Maybe the hours we spent studying had boosted her confidence, giving her more belief in her ability to pass than she'd had before. I hoped that was the case.
I was waiting outside the Biology classroom, leaning against the wall, when I noticed Harper walking down the corridor towards the sports hall for her first exam. She kept glancing in my direction, and as she passed by, she muttered a quiet, "Thank you," before picking up her pace.
"Good luck," I called after her. She turned back, giving me a smile before disappearing through the doors.
A couple of guys standing nearby nudged me, clearly curious about why I was speaking to Harper—the girl who, as they loved to remind me, had given me that love letter. I shrugged them off, not feeling the need to explain anything.
Harper needed all the luck she could get, and honestly, whatever support my mum had given her wasn't going to cut it. I just hoped that what we'd worked on would.
As exam season wrapped up and the last day of term came to a close, I could finally look forward to a decent night's sleep for the first time in weeks. I was drained, both physically and mentally, and all I wanted was to head home and crash.
As I made my way out of the school building, I caught sight of Harper with her friends near the gate. She was chatting away, more animated than I'd seen her in a while. Kunal, that loud guy from our year, had his arm draped over her shoulder, pulling her along and insisting she come grab a bite to eat with him tonight. His voice, always louder than necessary, carried over the noise of everyone leaving.
For some reason, watching them struck a chord with me, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Harper seemed comfortable, but something about the way Kunal was all over her made my jaw clench. I pushed the feeling aside, figuring it was just the exhaustion messing with me.
Suddenly, William, who had been walking beside me, chimed in. "Hey, isn't that the girl who tried to give you that love letter? Looks like she's moved on pretty quickly. Already got a boyfriend, huh?" He pointed towards Kunal, his tone smug.
That wasn't true, but it irritated me for some reason. Kunal wasn't her boyfriend, and I knew Harper wouldn't be interested in a guy like him. He was loud, obnoxious, and never knew when to shut up.
"I couldn't care less," I shot back, walking faster down the steps. "It has nothing to do with me."
Today was the day. Harper would finally get her final grade back in French, and with any luck, I'd be able to reclaim that embarrassing photograph and be done with this whole ordeal once and for all.
As I made my way towards the canteen for lunch, I spotted Harper sprinting through the halls like her life depended on it. The moment her eyes locked on mine, I could tell exactly what she was about to say.
"I did it! Oliver, I passed all of my exams!" she yelled, bouncing up and down in front of me, practically glowing with excitement. Despite myself, I felt a twinge of pride. I'd never wanted to be her tutor, but it was good to know all those hours hadn't gone to waste.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed people starting to stare. Trying to keep things subtle, I extended my hand, signalling her to give me back the photo she'd promised. There was no way I was going to say it out loud with an audience.
But, of course, Harper completely misunderstood. Instead of handing over the photo, she grabbed my hand and started shaking it like she'd just won a marathon. "Thank you, thank you!" she kept repeating, still buzzing with energy.
I could feel my frustration rising again. I didn't want to cause a scene, so I forced myself to take a deep breath. "No, give me the photo," I whispered through gritted teeth, trying to stay calm.
Realisation finally dawned on her, and she quickly fumbled in her bag, pulling out the photo. Before anyone else had the chance to notice, I snatched it from her hand and stuffed it into my pocket. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shook my head and walked away, glad to have that embarrassing chapter behind me.
As I heard Harper's cheers echoing down the hall, I couldn't help but crack a small smile.
