“No,” I replied. “I was there.”
“You were there?” she repeated. “Matthew, I waited for you, but you never came to the door.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
I glanced up at her face and then quickly looked away. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I instinctively embraced the repetitive action of kicking the toe of my foot with my other heel.
“It’s okay,” Mayra said, “you can tell me.”
She reached out and took my hand in hers. Her fingers coiled around mine. Her hands were really soft, and I wondered if she put lotion on them a lot. My mom’s hands always got really dry in the winter, and she would put lotion on them every time she washed her hands.
“Matthew?”
“I just…couldn’t,” I whispered.
“Do you want to work on it here?”
“Okay.”
I couldn’t say no to her, so we set up the project stuff on the table in the dining room.
It was surprisingly easy to work with Mayra on the honey bees project.
In the past, I had only worked on projects with Joe. He was fine with other people for the most part though he tended to look down on them because they weren’t as smart as he was. Everyone thought he was a snob. He was a snob. He didn’t have a ton of friends either, but we had always worked well together.
Mayra was completely different from Joe. She was really passionate about everything we researched and often got excited when we would find some article on the internet that supported what she believed to be right. She also got really mad about some of it.
“I don’t understand how something like this could just be overlooked!” she exclaimed again. “Doesn’t everyone know all life is dependent on each other? People obviously just don’t play enough dominoes anymore!”
She took a deep breath and let it out in a big whoosh. She looked over at me and smiled.
“Sorry,” she said, “I get a little carried away.”
I just shrugged.
“Should we think about the PowerPoint?” Mayra asked.
We hadn’t talked about the actual presentation. I always focused on the written portion, which was almost done. I would just need to take my clunky old laptop into school to get the information printed. I could put it on a thumb drive, but I was afraid something would happen to the data if I walked too close to something magnetic.
We hadn’t started the PowerPoint or even talked about it.
What if she wanted me to give the presentation? Joe knew better, but I hadn’t worked with Mayra before. Maybe she would want to do every other slide, passing it back and forth between us. I’d seen some kids do it that way. My heart started pounding, and I squeezed my hands into fists beside the keyboard.
“Matthew,” Mayra said. “You never stand up in front of the class. I know that. I’ll give the oral part of the presentation.”
I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath, but it rushed out of me suddenly and forcefully. I was torn between wanting to thank her and wanting to be able to say that I could do it. I couldn’t—I knew that—but I wished I could.
“Want to take a break?” Mayra asked.
“Okay.”
“Got anything to drink?” Mayra asked with a smile.
“I have filtered water in a pitcher, Coke, and Sprite,” I said, offering her a choice.
“I’d love a Coke!”