Page 14 of Heartland

“Your stomach?”

“It’s fine, I swear.”

“Okay, you need coffee, carbs, and ibuprofen. Want to skip the algebra this morning?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I can’t skip it. There’s a quiz coming up.”

“All right.” I take a deep, life-giving gulp from my coffee cup. “Let me come over there, actually.” I can’t see her notebook from this side of the table, so I swing around and sit down on the bench beside her. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and give her a quick squeeze. “Is this your first hangover?”

“I guess.” She sighs. “It’s really no big deal. I’m a big girl. A headache won’t kill me.”

“Right. I know.” It’s just that I feel guilty. Rickie’s parties could make anyone regret her life choices. I should have warned her. “Tell you what. Do that first problem, okay? And I’ll ask the chef for my favorite hangover cure.”

“The chef?” She gives me a quizzical look.

“The cook. Whatever. That dude wearing the white hat. Just trust me on this.” I drop her shoulder and bolt out of my seat again.

* * *

If you’re polite, people will do anything for you. When I return to Chastity ten minutes later, I’m carrying a chocolate mocha milkshake split into two portions and a plate of french fries.

She looks startled when I set them down beside her. “That’s your medicine?”

“Totally. But if you were nauseated, I’d start with popcorn and work my way up to fries. Here.” I push the plate a little closer to her then grab the salt shaker and sprinkle the fries vigorously.

“Thanks. I didn’t know they served fries at this hour,” she says, grabbing one and dipping it in ketchup.

“Sometimes you just gotta ask.”

I watch her bite the fry and then smile at me. She picks up the cold shake and takes a sip. “Wow. You do know things.”

“Right?” I like feeding Chastity. I always have, ever since the first Thursday Dinner she came to, when I heard her tell my mother that she’d never had a slice of pie. Not once.

I’ve been feeding her treats ever since.

Chastity eats a few more fries and picks up her pencil. She’s on problem number two. She sort of stares at the problem for a while and then abruptly writes the answer down. “Got it.”

Oh man. She’s right, and she’s also wrong. “Chass, algebra is all about methodology and showing your work. If you turn it in like that, he’ll mark it wrong.”

“That makes no sense. If the answer isfour, then it’s four!”

I chuckle then shake my head. “Look, I want you to think of each variable as a wrapped gift. You’re not supposed to justguesswhat’s inside. That’s not the point of algebra. You need to manipulate the other parts of the equation toshowwhat’s inside.” I tap the page. “Try number three.”

“But what if it’s just obvious?” she argues. “I tried a couple of numbers, and only one of them works.”

“It doesn’t matter, because soon the problems will have more than one variable, and there will be more than one thing that X can be.”

“That sounds dreadful,” she grumbles, taking another sip of milkshake.

“It’s only dreadful if you don’t learn the rules. Leave the gift in the box, okay? I’m going to show you how to manipulate the package so that all theotherinformation tells you what’s inside.”

“Okay,” she says wearily. “Thank you.”

“Back to number three. How can you isolate X on one side of the equals sign?”

She blinks down at the page. “Well…” Her cheeks turn pink, because this stuff doesn’t come easily to her. She missed ten years of math. My older sister and I helped her pass the GED tests. I already know she’s smart. But it hasn’t been easy. “I could add something to both sides.”

“Right! What do you want to add?”