“Or we could speak of something else,” I say.
“No, let’s talk about Jack.” Cohen’s strolling along, as casual as you please, looking completely at his leisure. Meanwhile I’m shuffling along next to him, trying to talk myself out of making a fake beeline for the restroom we just passed. I don’t want to talk about Jack. I don’t want to talk about the tutoring thing.
I take a deep breath and think of my list. “I don’t want to talk about Jack. I don’t want to talk about the tutoring thing.”
There. I said it, exactly as I thought it in my head.
Cohen turns toward me, looking almost…impressed? “Look at you, standing your ground,” he says, and he smiles, his eyes crinkling around the corners.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m trying to speak up more,” I admit.
“You speak up plenty to me,” he says, his smile turning wry. He folds his arms over his chest and stops walking.
“We hardly ever talk,” I say, frowning at him.
“But when we do, you speak up,” Cohen says.
“Yeah, well,” I say, shrugging, and I come to a stop too, although I’m not sure why we’re stopping. I look up at him, waiting.
He’s eyeing me curiously, his head tilted slightly, like he’s considering something. “All right,” he finally says. “We don’t have to talk about Jack. Yet,” he adds quickly. “But let’s try something.”
“Nope,” I say. I have no idea what he wants to try, but I’m pretty sure it’s not on my to-do list.
“You didn’t even hear me out,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. The pose is so reminiscent of my mother that I can’t stop a laugh from escaping.
“You look like my mom when she’s angry,” I say, still smiling. I put my hands on my hips too. “She does this whole stance right before she lectures.”
Cohen drops his hands immediately, and he smiles, too. “I can’t see you getting many lectures,” he says.
“I don’t,” I admit. “But Ruby used to.” My sister, three years older than me, is a trouble maker, although I think she’s calmed down a bit since going to college.
“I bet,” Cohen says. “I’m sure she attracted all sorts of attention.”
“She did,” I say. “Now, why are we standing here?”
“Oh,” he says, as though he’d forgotten we were standing unmoving in the middle of one of America’s emptiest malls. “Right. Have you ever shopped in there?” he says, pointing to the store we’ve stopped in front of. I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess, because this is one of those places you can find all the clothes I wouldn’t be caught dead in. Shorts up to your butt. Necklines down to your belly button. That sort of thing.
I turn around and give a snort of laughter. “Do I look like I shop in there?”
“No,” he says, so quickly and decisively that I’m a little offended. “So let’s go in. Let’s find a shirt and a pair of pants, and you’ll try them on, and you can see for yourself that there’s potential here.”
I don’t take the time to wade through his words before I respond. “I’m not buying anything in there.” Then I stop as what he said registers in my brain. “Wait, what do you mean?”
He sighs. “Look, we don’t have to talk about Jack. But I think part of your hesitation is because you don’t think it would ever actually happen with him.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Well, it wouldn’t,” I say, exasperated.
“But it could,” he says, his voice urging. “I was serious. I know his likes and dislikes. I know what he likes in a woman. I know these things. So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go in there. You’re going to try a few things on. I’m not asking you to let everything hang out. That’s not you. But if you look in the mirror and still don’t think it’s possible, then we don’t have to do it. And you don’t have to tutor me.” He says this last part like the words are being wrenched out of him.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re staking a lot on me liking clothing from a store that I hate.”
“I’m prepared to do some begging if it comes to it,” he says.
I’m tempted to say yes. But…“I’m being nice,” I say. “I’m letting you tag along with me. I really, really don’t want to go in there.”
“Is it just that store, or is it the whole thing? You don’t even have to show me. I just—Mina, Ireallyneed a tutor. I have to get my score up, and my mom’s paying me to get a tutor. She’s going to give me even more if I get my score up three points. But more than that, I need to get into a good school. I need this. At least try it. Please. If after you try something on you still don’t want to tutor me, then fine. I’ll find someone else. Or I could even pay you money instead.”
“You could go to the tutoring center,” I say, but I know myself—I’m going to say yes. Not because of Jack—although that’s tempting—but because I want Cohen to do well. Everyone deserves a chance to do well on the ACT. It impacts your entire future, and he clearly needs help.
