Chapter 2 : The First Session

     That night, I tossed and turned in my bed, unable to find peace. My thoughts kept racing. I was terrified—what if Elodie tried something? What if she did beat me up, like she’d implied? I had no idea how to handle her; she was unpredictable, like a storm waiting to tear everything apart. But if I didn’t help her, Mrs. Hall would be disappointed in me, and I couldn’t risk losing my reputation. I wasn’t just a good student. I was the good girl, the one everyone trusted.

     I thought and thought, searching for some way to get out of this. Maybe I could fake being sick? Or beg Mrs. Hall to switch me with someone else? But no matter how hard I tried, nothing seemed like it would work. I couldn’t disappoint Mrs. Hall, and I definitely couldn’t let Elodie see that I was scared of her.

     Exhausted, I finally pushed it out of my mind, hoping that sleep would provide some relief. But even then, my dreams were restless—filled with the sound of Elodie’s laughter and the smell of her overpowering cologne.

     The next day, I went to school with a tight heart, every step feeling heavier than the last. The air felt thicker, like the weight of the world was pressing down on my shoulders. I avoided looking in Elodie’s direction, keeping my head down and my eyes glued to my textbooks. She seemed more than happy to leave me alone, which I couldn’t decide was a relief or a new kind of worry. Was she plotting something?

     Throughout the day, I couldn’t concentrate. The lessons blurred into one long, monotonous wave, and I kept thinking about what would happen after school. What if she doesn’t show up? What if she does? Will she show up on time? What if she’s in a bad mood? My thoughts were a jumble, twisting tighter and tighter with each passing hour.

     During lunch, Ivy and I sat together at our usual spot, but even her easy chatter couldn’t pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. I kept glancing at the clock, then back at the door to the cafeteria, half-expecting Elodie to storm in like a tornado.

     “Serena?” Ivy’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

     I blinked, trying to shake myself out of the haze. “Yeah. Just… a little tired, I guess.”

     “Are you nervous about the tutoring session?” she asked quietly, looking around to make sure no one was overhearing.

      I hesitated. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Elodie’s… unpredictable.”

     Ivy raised an eyebrow, her voice lowering. “If she hurts you—”

     “I’ll be fine,” I said quickly, trying to sound confident. But my stomach was in knots. “I just don’t want to disappoint Mrs. Hall. She’s counting on me.”

     Ivy didn’t respond right away, her gaze thoughtful. “Just be careful. Elodie’s not like anyone else.”

     Her words lingered in the air, and I know that something about this was going to change everything.

     After school, I walked to the library, my heart pounding in my chest. My footsteps echoed in the empty halls, and I felt every single one of them like a drumbeat. I found a quiet table near the back and sat down, waiting. My hands trembled in my lap as I stared at the empty chair across from me. I could feel the seconds dragging on, each one heavier than the last.

     Elodie was late. Maybe she’s not coming, I thought, a sliver of hope growing inside me. But then, the door swung open.

     I looked up.

     Elodie stood there, her dark hair falling messily around her face. She was wearing her usual black, and the skull on her t-shirt seemed to glare at me as she walked toward the table. Her eyes locked on mine, and I could see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

     “Ready to get this over with?” she asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

     I nodded, swallowing hard. My throat felt dry. "Let's just start."

     I pulled out my notebook, trying to focus. I needed to teach, I reminded myself. This was about schoolwork—not anything else. But my nerves were a constant hum in the back of my mind, drowning out the calm logic I was trying to maintain.

     Elodie slouched in her chair, her gaze flickering toward the window instead of the notebook I handed her. Her posture was defiantly lazy, like she wasn’t even trying. I could see the tension in her shoulders, though—a mix of frustration, defiance, and something else I couldn’t quite read.

     "Okay, let’s start with the history lesson," I said, opening the textbook to the right page. "The Industrial Revolution."

     Elodie sighed loudly. “Do you really expect me to care about this?”

     I bit my lip. "It’s not about caring. It’s about passing the test. You have to pass the tests to get good scores, to reach your dreams.”

     “I don’t need you to tell me that,” she snapped, her voice rising. “I know what I’m doing. And I ain’t got no dreams.”

     I flinched at her tone but kept my focus on the page. Don’t react, I told myself. Don’t let her get to you.

     For the next few minutes, I tried to go through the material, but it was like talking to a wall. Elodie’s attention wandered, her fingers drumming absently on the table. I was beginning to feel like this was hopeless.

     Then, she muttered something under her breath. It was so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.

     “I don’t care about any of this. It doesn’t even matter. What does?”

     I paused, the words hanging in the air. “Why doesn’t it matter?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

     Elodie looked up, her eyes dark. “It doesn’t matter because nothing matters. Not school, not the tests, not anything. You wouldn’t get it. You’re so smart.”

     Something in her voice made me hesitate. There was a rawness to it, like a crack in her armor. I wanted to ask more, to push for an answer, but the walls she’d built up were already rising again.

     I sighed inwardly. This is going to be harder than I thought.

     “Can you listen, please?” I said in the gentlest tone I can muster. “I’m trying to help...”

     “Look,” she interrupted, turning to face me with a glare, “you can pretend this is going to help, but it’s not. I’m just dumb, okay? You can tell everyone you tried, and we’ll both get out of this faster.”

     Her words stung, but it wasn’t just the insult. It was the way she said it, like she actually believed it.

     I wanted to snap back—tell her she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here—but something stopped me. For just a second, I saw something in her eyes. Not anger, exactly. Something smaller, like she was trying to hold herself together and barely succeeding.

     “I don’t think you’re dumb,” I said softly, surprising even myself. “And I’m not giving up on you.”

     Her face hardened again. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

     I sighed and continued my reading, but in that moment, I realized there was more to Elodie than she let on.