Read Solving for Ex for Free Online Page A

and Prejudice, which you’ll read in AP next year, Mansfield Park is mature and nuanced, studded with deeper social issues than all the rest of Austen’s works put together. We’ll be having a quiz next Wednesday about the major themes and character arcs, so I’d suggest reading it more closely than you would, for example, the newspaper. Or your fashion magazines.”
    Britt raised her hand. She had been the rare freshman Mathlete, was freakishly good at every other subject, stunningly gorgeous, and incredibly popular. Yes, she was one of those girls. “We don’t get the newspaper.”
    Mrs. Crawford rolled her eyes and, without looking back, said, “My point exactly, Miss Harding.”
    Some of the guys in the back of the class snickered at that last name, just like they did every single other time anyone said it. Including themselves. This was going to be a long year.
    I’d heard enough about Mrs. Crawford to know to take her seriously, so I’d spent Saturday afternoon after breakfast with Brendan marking up my copy with theme, major plot points, and some interesting character stuff.
    On quiz day, most of the kids had buried their noses in their books in the five minutes between arriving to class and the bell ringing, as though the text could be absorbed through their eyeballs in that span of time and then magically translated by their brain into quiz answers when the time came. Britt was one of them, and Vincent leaned across the aisle and rested his elbows on her desk, pretending to look at her notes with her, his gaze flicking down her shirt. I rolled my eyes, and then leaned back in my desk and closed my eyes for a moment of peace and quiet before bell rang.
    Just as I was imagining the next shot of the river walk I’d like to attempt from the fire escape of one of the old restaurants in downtown Pittsburgh, my ponytail flipped up and around in a circle. I sat straight up and turned slowly to see Vincent, who slouched back and smirked just enough to let a dimple show in the expanse of his ridiculously flawless skin.
    I caught my breath against the annoyance of some guy I didn’t know, gorgeous or not, flicking my hair around like we were best friends. I cocked my head and raised my eyebrow.
    He leaned down in his bag and pulled out his copy of Mansfield Park. It was one hundred percent flawless—unmarked and free of dog-ears—like it was pure luck he’d remembered to bring it to class today. “Ready for this quiz?” he asked. “I hear Crawford’s a hard-ass.”
    I quirked an eyebrow. “Are you ready? Looks like you didn’t prep.”
    “Looks can be deceiving.” He tapped the cover of the book. “We read this at my old school. I’ll get a perfect score, mark my words.”
    He’d read Mansfield Park when he was a sophomore? And I thought this school was nuts. I smiled. “We’ll see.”
    Mrs. Crawford handed the papers back and we got to work. Twenty-five minutes later, I’d thrown down three different main thematic threads in the work and bitched for four paragraphs about why Edmund Bertram really had to be such a clueless dickheaded milquetoast when all the rest of the characters were really deep and interesting. I of course had already completed the first page, which had been regular multiple choice.
    “I’ll take your long answers,” Mrs. Crawford said, pacing the front of the room. “You’ll do me a favor by grading one another’s multiple choice right now. Please pass your tests one seat forward and mark off any answers that don’t match what I read here.”
    True to his word, Vincent got a perfect score. We handed the tests forward just before the bell rang. I didn’t know why, but I let myself hang back to walk out into the hallway with him.
    “I’m very impressed,” I said.
    He laughed. “By what? I told you I’d get a perfect score.”
    “So you just really love Mansfield Park, then?”
    “Obviously.” He smiled, but I couldn’t tell what kind of smile it was. It looked