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give him my phone as he hands me his. His fingers touch mine, and I’m suddenly very aware Adam is right there within hearing distance, but when I glance at him, his attention is on his own phone.
    “Here,” Jay says, nudging my knuckles with my ancient cell. It’s a pay by the minute, since that’s all Levi could afford to get me. I told him I didn’t need one, but he was all, “I want you to have one for emergencies,” and blah blah. I get the gesture, but I don’t fill up on minutes often. Too afraid to ask for something so low priority.
    I hand Jay back his had-to-be-six-hundred-dollars cell.
    “I’ll call you tonight,” he says.
    “Okay.”
    He gives Adam a nod—Adam waves back—and then he jogs off. I cock my head and appreciate the view for a little bit until Adam clears his throat.
    “You coming? Or should I leave you to stare into space?”
    I roll my eyes and shove past him, not really in the mood to joke around. I slouch in the front seat as he makes his way behind the wheel.
    He pushes to my playlist on his iPod and we drive in silence. The report card in my pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. If I stand, I’m in danger of my pants dropping to my ankles.
    Adam pulls up to my trailer, the weight in my pocket triples, and I find it hard to breathe normally.
    I grapple for the door handle, but Adam reaches around me and slams the door lock down. Now my breathing is chaotic, fogging up his glasses.
    “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” His mouth twitches at the corner, and he flicks the bottom of my braid. “Or are you going to keep it in till it explodes later?”
    “That’s only happened a couple times.” Or a couple hundred times.
    He raises his eyebrows and waits, and instead of answering, I pull out my midterms.
    Adam sits back, unfolding the paper. A long whistle floats from his mouth when his eyes graze over my big fat Fs.
    “Wow.”
    “I know.”
    A small frown pulls at the corners of his mouth. “So, how’d this happen?”
    I shrug, turning to the window to look at the suddenly interesting chain link fence. Anything to stare at besides that disappointment in his face. I don’t do anything to please anyone but myself, but Adam’s opinion somehow matters to me. Maybe it’s because his opinion of me usually speaks higher than the opinion I have of myself.
    “Come on, Brea. It’s me. Is something going on?”
    Just the same old stress. I’ve never been able to pull good grades out. I’ve never failed before, though.
    “Maybe I’m just stupid,” I say to the window. I didn’t realize how hard that was for me to say out loud until I hear the wetness in my voice. Which is so totally not me. I keep things locked tight until they evaporate.
    “You are not stupid.” Adam settles the report card back in my lap. “I think something is bugging you. And I know you don’t want to talk about whatever it is. But I think you should.”
    I hate that he’s right. I don’t want to talk about my anxiety issues. It makes me feel weak, and really, what the hell is talking going to do.
    I sniff and push back those pesky tears. Folding the paper back up, I ask him, “Do you think I can make this up? I really don’t want to go to summer school.” Regular school is bad enough.
    “It’s only midterm. So, yeah, you could pull it up.”
    He sounds doubtful. That’s real encouraging.
    “Yeah, okay.” I yank on the door lock and reach for the handle, but he leans over and smacks it down again.
    “Brea…if you want help, all you have to do is ask.”
    I give him a look, but the dorky grin on his face does me in, and I’m laughing before I can stop myself.
    “I know.” And I do. Adam is good like that. I pry his fingers from the door lock and slide out of the seat before he can stop me again. “Thanks for the ride.”
    He nods and grabs his iPod to change to his music. A tiny flutter goes through my stomach because I love that he lets me listen to my stuff even though I know