Tru Love by Rian Kelley

well.
                  “Sorry,” Genny says. “I expect better of myself, too.”
                  The day went better than she hoped. Only Homer brought up the incident from yesterday directly, and that was so he could apologize. Girls stared at her and in the locker room, when Genny was suiting up for P.E., a few of them whispered about her and Hunter and how awful it was to have your boyfriend break up with you at school. The real news is Truman. How ‘turn down the thermostat sexy’ he is. Genny hopes she never sounds like that. Overnight, the school erupted with geysers, in the form of girls, and they’re all gushing about him .
                  She hears Mr. Plume clear his throat and when her eyes adjust she sees he’s waiting for her, his arm extended.
                  “The vice principal gave you an invitation?” he asks.
                  Genny hands him the paper and listens as he reads her offense aloud, “’Truant periods four through six.’” He gazes at her, his eyes round. “Really?”
                  She nods and tries to turn back the tide of color rising to her face. “Bad day,” she offers.
                  He tucks the slip into his pile and tells her, “We’re all entitled to one or two of those. Have a seat. It’s all book work in here. I’ll help you with an assignment, if I can. History is my best academic subject.”
                  Genny finds an empty desk in the second row, near the back, and slides into it. There are three other students spread out around the room and she can hear footsteps approaching from the hall.
                  She feels the pull—awareness tugging at her senses—and knows before he walks through the door that it’s Truman. The bell rings as he slips into the room.
                  “Tru,” Mr. Plume greets him, though it’s more a question than a welcome. “Already?”
                  Truman nods. “I guess I need a learning curve.”
                  Mr. Plume accepts his slip and reads it, this time to himself, but he looks up at Genny when he’s done.
                  “You two have already met, then,” he says.
                  Truman follows his gaze until it lands on Genny. His expression doesn’t soften. Doesn’t waver. It’s intense and thoughtful and Genny wonders what he’s thinking. Is he back at that moment in the park, when Genny just about threw herself at him?
    She lowers her head, breaking eye contact first to hide the warm flush of her skin.
                  “Yes, Sir,” Truman says.
                  “Well, this isn’t a meeting of the social committee. You’ll need to sit apart. There’s no talking. Use the time to complete homework assignments.”
                  Truman nods but says, “I was hoping Genny could fill me in on what I missed in calculus today. Mrs. Winchell kept me in her office.”
                  Winchell is their guidance counselor and Genny wonders what Truman did to earn a full hour of the woman’s attention.
    “Of course, maybe you could help me, Mr. Plume?” Truman asks politely.
                  Plume is shaking his head. “Calculus? We didn’t have that in school when I attended.”
                  As the captain of the men’s U. S. Volleyball team, Plume was the drive behind two Olympic victories, which is why he’s at Fraser. Genny thinks every teacher must have a claim to fame in order to have a chance here.
                  “Genny?” Plume calls for her attention. “Do you mind helping Tru with today’s calculus lesson?”
                  “I’ll try,” she says. The truth is she spent little time paying attention in class today.
    She digs through her back pack for her math notebook and feels the air around her thicken as