I have your grades, Karen says, pushing at a yellow envelope. Congratulations. You’re barely passing. Folding her arms. Something intimate about her anger, as if she has the right to care this much, what does it matter to her if he passes or not, she gets paid either way. He sniffs. Hands in his hoodie. She lifts her chin. Well? The clock ticks. He doesn’t want to touch the envelope, to look at her. He should just. Go. Knee jumping. Who does she think she is. Who he is. She stares, nostrils flaring. Finally he leans forward to slide the printout from the envelope. Scanning the slim column of Ds, a single C, in algebra, surprise surprise. Chewing his lip. He rubs his nose. It’s not you, I just. She looks at him. Oh, I know it’s not me. Xie backed into silence. Wary. I mean, either we’re doing this or, I don’t know, she says, chin wrinkled. Stripping a hangnail from her finger. I’m sorry, he says. No, Xie, you’re not sorry. I don’t need you to be sorry. Sitting back, hard, chair leg skipping against the carpet. Look, it’s the last day before break, so let’s just get your reading list in order and set up the date with the counselors—Xie startled, I have to talk to them—? Of course you have to. Why? You have to meet with them every semester, Xie, Jesus, have you not been paying any attention? Gesturing with the envelope. Xie rubs his hair with both hands, head down. She takes a breath. I looked at the packets you’ve been turning in and it’s different work, Xie, you’re not giving them what we’re actually doing in here. That’s—you have to explain that to me. Xie shifts his feet beneath the table. I just don’t want them to have it. Have what? Anything. Anything real. From me. Of mine. She looks at him. What do you mean, real? He looks back. Doesn’t answer. Then why not quit? Your dad? He shrugs. Yeah, I guess. She doesn’t say, You’re so stupid, you’re doing twice the work to screw no one but yourself, she just lets what he’s said hang there, her eyes still dark. Well. I guess you can do what you want. We could just sit here and do nothing. Voice shrill at the edges. He blinks, head back. What? she says. You don’t want to do the work, don’t do the work. Gnawing viciously on a thumbnail. Karen, he says, and she shakes her head. I’m pregnant. Immediately raising her palms as if to ward off the effect of her words. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Silence. She opens a textbook at random, pushes it toward him. He pretends to read it as she sits, chewing the same nail. He writes something meaningless in his notebook, turns a page. An hour limps by. She checks her watch. Do you want to get something to eat? Xie asks. Karen shakes her head, shoving her things into her bag, careless. Take the rest of the afternoon off, she says. The zipper of her jacket cracking against the table as she stands. Enjoy your break. He tries to catch her eye but she looks past him, keys in her hand, on her way out when Greg stops her, asking her for something, a book past due. I don’t have it, she says, and when he tries to insist she repeats, louder, almost yelling, I don’t have it! Her bag banging against her hip as she walks out the door.