Tell Me When by Stina Lindenblatt Page A

from Amber.
    I return to the table. Kitten is busy working through a math question.
    “Sorry about that,” I say.
    “It’s okay.” She smiles softly and pushes the page she was working on toward me. “I figured I would try another question while you were gone.”
    I lean forward and catch the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. I breathe her in and check her answer. “Very good, Kitten. You got it.” I grin at her.
    She grins back. “You’re a great teacher.”
    I bite my tongue to keep from saying what else I’m good at teaching. I don’t want to destroy this easy rapport between us.
    “So what made you decide to become an engineer?” she asks.
    Since I don’t want to tell her about my pathetic excuse of a life, I say, “What do you get when you cross a mosquito and a mountain climber?”
    She frowns slightly, either confused at my avoidance of the question or because she’s trying to figure out the answer. She shrugs.
    “You can’t cross a vector with a scalar.”
    Amber groans then laughs. “Where did you learn all these lame jokes?”
    “My high school math teacher. It was the only way he could get the class to pay attention.” A trick my history teacher should have tried. I might have done better in the class if he had.
    At the sound of classical music coming from the floor, Amber reaches toward her backpack. The cuff of her hoodie sleeve slides up, revealing thick scars on her wrist. She tugs the cuff down and sits up, cell phone in hand. She checks it then drops it in her bag.
    All I can do is stare at her injured wrist, hidden under the fabric of her hoodie. She pulls her hand farther into her sleeve, making sure I can’t see even a fraction of the scars.
    “It’s not what you think,” she says, her voice low and cracked. “I didn’t try to kill myself.”
    How the hell could she end up with scars like that if she wasn’t attempting suicide? “What happened?”
    She fidgets with the cuff, eyes avoiding mine, then grabs her stuff from the table and shoves it in her bag. “I have to go.” Before I can say anything, she bolts.

Chapter Thirteen
    Amber
    I smile and do a happy dance while seated on my desk chair. Thanks to Marcus’s tutoring session yesterday, I got another answer correct. The guy’s a genius.
    Someone knocks on the bedroom door. I open it.
    Jordan sails into the room and flops on my bed. “I need a break from studying. You wanna hit the mall with me? Maybe see a movie?”
    “Sure.” She’s not the only one who needs a break. I’ve been studying for four hours straight. My brain feels like it’s ready to explode. And since I expect Brittany to reappear at any moment, snarling at me in the way only Brittany can do, I’m ready to escape.
    I grab my purse, and we head downstairs to the parking lot where Jordan’s black Honda Civic sits. The warm fall wind kisses my face as we stroll across the sun-dappled asphalt.
    I check the backseat to make sure it’s clear, then walk around her car, ensuring the tires appear normal.
    “Do you, like, do that every time you get in a car?” she asks.
    “You never can play it too safe,” I say, repeating a line I once read. “You never know when someone might be hiding in the backseat ready to attack you, or has put a hole in your tire. Do you know how many girls are raped each year ’cause some sicko forced them to pull over because of a flat tire he caused?”
    “Point taken. So, Miss Safety Officer, are we good to go?”
    I turn around, scanning the area for anyone watching us. “Yep, we’re good.”
    Jordan unlocks the doors and we climb in.
    “Is there anything you’re specifically looking for at the mall?” I click my seat belt in place. “Or are we just wandering around?”
    “I could use more party clothes.” She starts the car. The engine purrs to life. “You know, in case we wanna go out again. I thought we could go to the dance club everyone talks about. What do you think?”
    I tug down on the cuff of