Chapter 213
Before
Ellison was particular about schedules. Timing. Id left him at the library, and hed instructed me to pick him up at a quarter to seven. So I shifted my schedule around, made sure Russmy manager at the laundromatknew Id be leaving exactly at 7:30, and arrived like clockwork.
That was nearly an hour ago. Night filtered in through the broad library windows, and much of the overhead lighting around the outer edges of the library had already shut off, giving the main section of broad tables a spotlight feeling. Ellison was bent over a younger girls textbook, pointing at a section of text, his expression strained. Hed say something, and the girl would shake her head, and Ellison would cross his arms, lost in thought, before he spoke again. I recognized his body-language similar to instances where he was trying to figure out how to explain something to Iris.
Finally, the girl nodded, and I felt an internal sigh of relief.
She was the last of three similarly confounded middle-schoolers, all of whom Id watched Ellison help since arriving on schedule. Like the rest, she shut her book, shoved it in her backpack, gave Ellison a weapons-grade nuclear smile and left with a hop in her step, passing by me on her way to the exit without so much as a glance or a look back.
Ellison, alternatively, looked rumpled and fatigued. He gathered his things in an uncharacteristically unhurried fashion and nearly ran into me.
Study group? I asked.
Ellison blinked several times before his bleary eyes fully focused on me. Oh, hey. What time is it?
Nearly nine.
From his aghast expression, I might as well have told him the sky was yellow.
Well shit. Ellison finally said. Then, after he had a second to think about it. Didnt mess anything up for you, did I?
No. I lied. I had a helpline gig lined up for after I took him home, but it paid little and wasnt time sensitive.
How long were you waiting?
I shrugged. Not too long. Got caught up at Maples.
Ellison half-nodded, hooded eyes squinting at the clock on the wall as if he couldnt quite bring himself to believe it was really that late. Sorry.
No worries.
We started towards the exit, earning several irritated looks from the few remaining evening staff who were probably hoping to leave early. I passed him a bottle of water and pulled a tiny container of Tylenol from my bag, shook it at him. Ellison took it quickly, unscrewed the cap and poured two into his hand, then downed them, draining almost half the bottle. Afterwards, he shot me a suspicious look.
How the hell do you always know? He asked.
Im your brother. Its my job to know things.
And how many people? I asked, though I didnt need to. Unless a large contingent had left before I arrived, there were five other kids.
Six in total. Ellison confirmed.
And they spent most of the time studying? Not chatting or goofing around?
We didnt even have time to chat, Ellisons voice rose, and he ranted. Theyre all so fucking behind. All the teachers care about is getting us ready for the standardized shit, so that gets all the attention in class, and they expect us to study for the other tests entirely on our own.
I resisted the urge to get into a drawn out venting session about the public school system, because while he wasnt wrong, that also wasnt the core of his problem.
Ah. I said.
Ah what, head ass? Ellison gave me a small shove. Come on. I know you have an opinion, you always do. Why cant you just give it to me straight like you did to Greg?
Because Gregs happy to take all the help he can get.
I blew out air. Do I believe the best way to study is on your own? Yes. Do I also understand that solo-study can get monotonous as hell and an occasional change of format can help you refresh, and that infrequently teaching someone else the material grants a differing insight that helps you understand it better? Also yes.
Oh, Ellison said.
I swatted him lightly across the top of his head, mussing his hair. My brother recoiled and toyed with his bangs, scowling until they fell back into their usual place.
Obviously, I get it. So curb the attitude and stop acting like Im out to get you. I nearly said more, but didnt want to push my luck. Instead, I took the indirect route. My opinion doesnt matter. What matters is that despite going to the efforts of organizing this on the down low and having a seemingly successful session, you seem less than happy with the results.
Because it sucked! Ellison shouted. He quickly brought his volume under control, but the irritation remained. I didnt mind teaching at first. Like you said, it reinforced things, helped me internalize them. But then I had to do it again, and again. And now my head hurts and I just feel drained.
How many kids in the group are further ahead in their studies than you? I asked, careful to circumvent the word smart.
Ellison stared down at the sidewalk as we walked, lost in thought. None of them, I guess. Dias pretty quick, but shes gifted and doesnt really spend that much time studyingCome to think of it, most of the smart kids wouldnt be the first to sign up for a study group.
There you go.
Mmm. I answered noncommittally.
And its not like I know everything. Itd be a pain to get them there, but even if I only snagged one or two, I wouldnt constantly be playing unpaid substitute and thered be someone to teach me for a change Ellisons eyes narrowed, and he glared at me suspiciously. That was some Socratic, bamboozling bullshit.
No idea what youre talking about.
