Chapter 50
Summer's POV
I grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and fished a pen out of my bag. Did you finish your homework? I wrote in careful block letters.
Lily's face lit up. She nodded vigorously and pointed at her backpack again, this time with obvious pride.
I smiled and wrote another question. What time will Kieran be done?
She pointed across the street at the coffee shop, then held up five fingers.
Five o'clock. I glanced at my phone. 4:47 PM.
Are you hungry? I wrote.
Lily touched her stomach, then looked down at her hands, a little embarrassed. She nodded.
My chest tightened. Of course she was hungry. It was almost five and she'd probably been sitting here for over an hour.
I drew a quick sketch on the napkin—a donut with sprinkles and a princess crown—then wrote underneath: I'll get you donuts. And I know where to get a Rapunzel toy.
Her eyes went huge. She grabbed the pen and scribbled back in wobbly letters: Really? Where?
I wrote: McDonald's next door. Wait here—I'll be right back.
I walked up to the Dunkin' counter first, where a tired-looking college kid was wiping down the coffee station. "Can I get a box of Munchkins? Half glazed, half chocolate."
He nodded, moving on autopilot.
While he packed the donut holes, I added, "And a small hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream."
Two minutes later, I had the Dunkin' bag in hand. I glanced back at Lily—she was watching me with those wide, trusting eyes, Rapunzel napkin sketch clutched in her small hands.
I slipped out the door and walked thirty feet down the block to the McDonald's. The fluorescent lights were harsh after Dunkin's warm ambiance, and the smell of fries hit me immediately.
An employee stood behind this counter, restocking napkin dispensers.
"Hi," I said, giving him my brightest smile. "I need a Happy Meal. But here's the thing—I need the Rapunzel toy. The one with the long blonde hair?"
He looked at me like I'd asked him to perform surgery. "Uh, the toys are random. We just grab whatever's in the box."
"I know." I pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet and slid it across the counter. "But I'm hoping you could check the storage room? Just this once?"
His eyes dropped to the twenty. Then he looked at me again, sizing me up—my Lululemon jacket, my Michael Kors bag, the desperation probably written all over my face.
"One sec," he muttered, and disappeared into the back.
Three minutes later, he came back with a Happy Meal box and placed it on the counter with a small, conspiratorial smile. "Rapunzel. Long hair and everything."
"Thank you so much," I said, meaning it.
I walked back to Dunkin' carrying both bags, feeling slightly ridiculous but also strangely satisfied. When I slid back into the booth across from Lily, her whole face transformed.
I pushed the Dunkin' bag toward her first. "Donuts from here." Then I set down the Happy Meal box. "And this is from McDonald's next door. For the toy."
She opened the McDonald's box with shaking hands and pulled out the plastic figurine—Rapunzel in her purple dress, blonde hair cascading down.
Summer! she wrote on a fresh napkin. I really like you!
My throat got tight.
She held the doll up next to my face, comparing. Then she wrote again, her handwriting getting messier with excitement: This princess's hair is the same color as yours!
I laughed, even though I kind of wanted to cry. "You think so?"
She nodded hard, clutching Rapunzel to her chest like it was made of actual gold.
I pushed the box of Munchkins toward her. "Eat. You've been waiting a long time."
She hesitated, glancing at the coffee shop across the street.
I touched her hand and mouthed slowly, making sure she could see my lips: It's okay. Kieran won't be mad.
That seemed to do it. She grabbed a glazed Munchkin and popped it in her mouth, grinning. Then she carefully set Rapunzel on the table between us, positioning her just so, like the doll was joining our little party.
I sipped the hot chocolate I'd ordered for myself, watching Lily alternate between eating donut holes and playing with her new treasure, and something warm settled in my chest—something that felt dangerously close to belonging.
---
## Kieran's POV
Lucas was late.
4:32 PM. Seventeen minutes past our scheduled time. I sat in the overpriced coffee shop while the barista shot me looks for nursing the same cup of water.
The door chimed.
Lucas Anderson walked in wearing a Brookline Junior High hoodie and that private-school confidence—the kind that came from never hearing "no."
He dropped into the chair across from me, didn't glance at the physics worksheet. Instead, he pulled out a yo-yo and started doing lazy loops.
"How much is this session? Fifty, right?"
"Yes."
He tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the table. "There. Double. Don't bother me for the next hour. I don't feel like doing physics."
I stared at the bill. Then at him.
He smirked, still playing with his yo-yo. "What? You get paid either way. Just sit there and pretend we studied."
Like I was furniture.
"You can't do Walk the Dog," I said quietly.
Lucas snorted. "I can do Walk the Dog, Around the World, and Rock the Baby. Been doing tricks since fifth grade."
"You're sloppy."
His hand stopped mid-throw. "What?"
"Give it to me." I held out my left hand.
He wound up the yo-yo and slapped it into my palm. "Fine. Show me what you've got, tutor."
I let it drop.
The world narrowed. Weight. Momentum. String tension like breathing. My left hand flicked—sharp, controlled. The yo-yo spun at the end of the string, then snapped back up. Down again. Walk the Dog across the table. Around the World in a perfect arc. Rock the Baby with the string forming a clean triangle.
Then I did Shoot the Moon—one-handed, the yo-yo climbing the string against gravity.
Lucas's mouth fell open. "That's... you need two hands for that."
"No. You need physics." I caught the yo-yo and handed it back.
He grabbed it, tried Shoot the Moon with both hands. The yo-yo fell halfway up the string.
Again. Same result.
People were watching now. Someone recording.
"Again," Lucas demanded, his face red.
I took the yo-yo back. Left hand only. Shoot the Moon. Perfect execution.
He slumped back, the arrogance draining from his face. "How do you do that?"
"Angular momentum. String tension. You see the whole system at once—same as physics problems."
Lucas was quiet. Then he picked up the worksheet he'd ignored.
"The free-body diagrams," he said slowly. "Is it like that? Seeing everything connected?"
I nodded.
He grabbed his pencil. "Teach me."
---
For the next hour, Lucas was a different person.
"Kieran, can you explain this again?" He leaned forward, pencil hovering.
Not "Cross." Not "tutor." Kieran.
"The normal force," I said, drawing on a napkin. "It's the table pushing back because—"
"Because the box pushes down. Action-reaction pairs." His eyes widened. "Wait, let me write that down."
He scribbled furiously, asking questions I'd never heard him ask before. Questions that actually made sense, that showed he was thinking beyond just getting the right answer. By 5:00, he'd finished all eight problems. Seven correct.
Lucas looked at his worksheet like he'd discovered fire. "My dad's gonna freak when I tell him about this."
I packed up my bag.
"Wait—" Lucas pulled out a Tiffany-blue envelope. Fifty dollars in crisp bills. "Here. The trial session fee."
I took it.
He hesitated. "Can I add you on Snapchat?"
"I have your dad's contact."
"No, I mean—if I have questions between sessions?"
I paused.
Lucas shifted nervously. "Actually... can you just teach me? Only me and maybe one friend?"
"Why?"
"I don't want you taking other St. Jude's students." He said it fast, almost embarrassed. "You're too good. I want to keep you."
I frowned. "I can fit ten sessions on weekends. Two students is a waste."
"What if I pay five times the rate?"
I stopped.
"$250 per session," Lucas said. "Just me and my friend. Exclusive."
The math hit me instantly. Two weekend days. Four sessions each. Over a thousand dollars a week.
Enough for Lily's cochlear implant fund. Enough for a year of hearing aid batteries. Enough to stop Mom from picking up double shifts.
Lucas watched me, waiting.
"Deal," I said.
His face broke into a grin—not the smirk from before, but something genuine. Almost grateful.
I walked out into the cold afternoon air, the envelope heavy in my pocket. Through the window of Dunkin' across the street, I could see Lily at our usual table, and someone sitting across from her—blonde hair catching the light, familiar even from this distance.
Summer.
She was there, with my sister, and something about the scene made my chest tighten in a way I didn't quite understand.