“Yeah,” I say, glancing at them. I don’t see much other than the back of their heads—Cora’s platinum blond hair is plaited into a french braid, and Nandini’s short black curls are held back with a speckled headband. “They do.”

“Stop whispering,” Nandini hisses, startling us.

“Or at least whisper louder,” Cora grumbles.

“I take it back,” Ace says. “I don’t like them.”

I snort and shove his shoulder halfheartedly. “Don’t start.”

Class passes in a breeze, and Nandini and Cora leave for lunch first, but not without promising to save us seats. I’m still packing my stuff away when Miss Cannon approaches. “Karina, Alistair.”

“Miss Cannon.” I wave with my free hand. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to check in and see how the tutoring is going,” she says, sitting on the edge of a desk. “Good, I hope?”

Ace offers me a mischievous grin. “You could say that.”

“Shut up,” I say, swatting him. Honestly, he has no shame.

Miss Cannon raises her eyebrows, looking between us. “I see you two have grown a lot closer. That explains all the whispering I hear back here.”

My cheeks grow impossibly warm, anxiety rushing through me like a waterfall. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect—”

“It’s because she’s explaining things to me that I don’t understand,” Ace cuts me off, resting his hand on top of mine. The motion is grounding. “It’s my fault.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. I take an uneven breath before nodding. “Yeah.”

Miss Cannon’s gaze drops to our hands. “I see... I’m glad to hear you’re learning a lot, Alistair.”

“It’s all because of Karina,” he says. “She’s an amazing tutor. She’s so passionate about English that it’s hard not to care about it after listening to her.”

“Ace.”

“What? It’s the truth.” He shrugs, unbothered, but his hand squeezes mine. “Thank you, Miss Cannon. I’m sure I’ll pass the English Regents with flying colors.”

Miss Cannon beams. “I’m happy to hear that. Have you guys started the poetry project yet?”

“I thought I was excused,” I say, biting my bottom lip. Now that I know she’s not mad at me, the anxiety is easing. It helps to have Ace and the scent of cinnamon near.

“You are,” she says. “I meant have you two started working on Alistair’s together?”

“Oh. Yes,” I say, glancing at Ace. He hasn’t let me see any of his poems, but we’ve gone over the parameters several times. “He’s been doing really well.”

“That’s lovely,” Miss Cannon says, clapping her hands. The sound batters around in my skull, echoing. “I was thinking you could present first, Alistair? For extra credit? It would help boost your grade. I think we can get you to an A by the end of the year.”