The boy I’d loved since childhood refused to open his front door when I asked him for help with one physics problem.
Chapter 3
Principal Martin’s office felt smaller than I remembered. The blinds were half-closed, and several teachers stood around his desk examining copies of my review materials. Someone had circled certain sections in red.
Mr. Martin gestured toward an empty chair.
“Marissa, sit down.”
I remained standing.
He sighed.
“We have received a serious concern about your physics examination. Some of the methods in your review guide are closely related to our most difficult questions.”
“Those are standard principles,” I said. “My tutor taught me how to apply them.”
One of the physics teachers frowned.
“Some of these methods extend beyond our regular curriculum.”
“Yes. That’s why we studied them.”
Mr. Martin folded his hands.
“Who is your tutor?”
“He goes by Shane.”
“And you’ve never met him?”
“No. We study online.”
The principal exchanged a troubled look with the teachers.
“And the service costs twenty dollars?”
“Nicholas purchased the subscription.”
Everyone turned toward Nicholas.
He shifted uncomfortably.
“I only wanted her to stop depending on me for every little thing.”
Mr. Martin looked back at me.
“Marissa, you understand why we have questions. A student with your previous scores suddenly achieves the highest mark in the class using material supplied by someone outside the school.”
“I can explain every answer I wrote.”
“That may be necessary.”
Then he turned toward Nicholas.
“You’ve known Marissa for years. Do you believe this improvement is consistent with her abilities?”
My heart tightened.
Despite everything, a small part of me still hoped Nicholas would defend me.
He’d seen my notebooks. He knew I spent hours studying every evening. He knew how determined I was to earn a scholarship.
He remained silent for several seconds.
Then he said, “Her basics are decent, but I don’t think she could have solved the last two questions independently.”
I stared at him.
He continued, “I’m not saying she intentionally did anything wrong. Maybe the tutor prepared her in a way that wasn’t fair to everyone else.”
There it was.
Twelve years of friendship reduced to one judgment.
I wasn’t capable.
Not without him.
I looked directly at Nicholas.
“So you can believe I had an unfair advantage, but you can’t believe I studied hard enough to beat you?”
His expression changed.
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
Before the argument could continue, the office secretary announced that my parents had arrived.
My mother entered first, looking frightened.
My father followed, his expression hard.
“Marissa, what’s going on?” Mom asked.
“Nothing wrong.”
Dad glanced at the papers.
“Your principal says you’re studying with someone online who nobody at this school knows.”
“He’s my tutor.”
“A twenty-dollar tutor?” Mom asked. “Honey, what kind of teacher charges so little?”
“Someone who explained things clearly.”
Dad crossed his arms.
“Then stop using the service until we sort this out.”
I shook my head.
“Why?”
“Because we’re your parents, and we’re worried.”
“Please listen to me. I didn’t cheat. I studied, and I earned that score.”
Mom reached for my arm.
“Sweetheart, nobody’s saying you’re a bad person. But Nicholas knows your abilities. If he’s concerned—”
I pulled away.
“Why does everyone believe Nicholas more than me?”
The room fell silent.
My throat tightened.
“He’s never stayed up with me when I couldn’t understand a problem. He’s never seen how many times I erase the same equation because I’m afraid of making a mistake. But he says I can’t do something, and suddenly everyone believes him.”
Nicholas looked away.
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
“We’re only trying to help.”
“Then please believe me.”
Dad slammed his palm against the desk.
“Enough. You’re going to stop arguing and listen.”
I looked at him.
“For once, I need you to listen to me.”
His face reddened.
“Marissa!”
“I’m telling the truth.”
He moved suddenly.
The slap struck my cheek with a sharp crack.
For several seconds, I couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of my heart.
My face burned.
Mrs. Dwight gasped.
“Mr. Finch!”
My father froze.
Mom stepped between us.
“David, what have you done?”
I stood completely still.
Nicholas watched from beside the window.
He said nothing.
For years, I’d believed that if someone saw me being hurt, surely they’d step forward.
But Nicholas didn’t move.
My phone vibrated in my hand.
A message appeared.
“Marissa, I’m at your school. Are you available?”
It was Shane.
I stared at the screen.
Then I typed, “I’m in the principal’s office. They’re questioning my exam score.”
His reply arrived immediately.
“I’ll come speak with them.”
Mr. Martin noticed my phone.
“Who are you messaging?”
“My tutor.”
The principal straightened.
“Would he be willing to explain his teaching methods?”
“Yes.”
Dad gave a bitter laugh.
“Good. Let’s hear from this supposed expert.”
I called Shane and put the phone on speaker.
He answered after two rings.
“Marissa? Are you all right?”
Before I could respond, Mr. Martin spoke.
“This is Principal Martin of Linhaven High School. We have concerns about the preparation materials you provided one of our students.”
There was a pause.
“Concerns about what?”
“Whether the tutoring gave her an improper advantage.”
Shane’s voice remained calm.
“I understand. I’m at your school now. Please direct me to the office.”
The call ended.
Ten minutes later, the secretary returned.
“Mr. Martin, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”
A tall man stepped into the doorway.
He looked to be in his early thirties, wearing a charcoal suit, polished brown shoes, and wire-rimmed glasses. He carried a leather briefcase and had the composed manner of someone accustomed to speaking before large audiences.
His gaze moved across the room.
Then he saw my cheek.
His expression changed.
“Marissa,” he said gently. “Are you safe?”
I recognized his voice immediately.
“Shane?”
He nodded.
My father stepped forward.
“So you’re the online tutor.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re charging twenty dollars while teaching material that isn’t even part of her classes?”
Shane looked at him steadily.
“Good instruction doesn’t become improper simply because it introduces students to advanced concepts.”
Mr. Martin cleared his throat.
“Sir, would you please introduce yourself?”
The man took a university identification card from his wallet and placed it on the desk.
“Dr. Shane Chen. Professor of Applied Physics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.”
The office went silent.
Mr. Martin picked up the card.
His eyebrows rose.
“Dr. Chen?”
One of the physics teachers stepped forward.
“Wait. Shane Chen? The researcher who published that paper on energy-transfer modeling last year?”
Shane nodded.
“That was my research group.”
The teacher stared at him.
“I attended your online lecture.”
My father’s mouth opened slightly.
Mom looked from Shane to me.
Nicholas went pale.
Mr. Martin carefully set down the card.
“Professor Chen, this is rather unexpected.”
“I imagine it is.”
Shane placed his briefcase on the desk.
“Now, may I review the examination questions that supposedly prove Marissa received improper assistance?”
The teachers handed him the papers.
He read them without speaking.
Then he turned several pages of my review guide.
A faint smile appeared.
“These are related problems, certainly. But they’re not the same questions.”
One teacher protested.
“The final two require concepts beyond our regular curriculum.”
“Not beyond a student’s understanding if she learns the underlying principles.”
Shane opened his briefcase.
Inside were neatly organized copies of the practice exercises we’d worked through together.
“For thirty days, Marissa studied progressively more difficult material. These examples show her reasoning, the mistakes she corrected, and the concepts she learned.”
He placed the folder on the desk.
“Nothing here suggests prior knowledge of your examination. It demonstrates consistent preparation.”
Mr. Martin examined the pages.
One teacher leaned closer.
“These are her own calculations?”
“Yes. Marissa developed these solutions during our lessons.”
Shane looked at me.
“Marissa, would you mind explaining the method you used for the final question?”
My stomach tightened.
Everyone was watching.
Then I saw the familiar equations on the page.
I knew them.
I understood them.
I took a pencil.
“The question looks complicated because it gives us several variables at once,” I began. “But we can simplify it by starting with conservation of energy.”
I wrote the first equation.
Then another.
As I explained each step, I gradually forgot the people surrounding me.
I wasn’t defending myself anymore.
I was simply solving a problem.
When I finished, the room was quiet.
Shane smiled.
“Excellent.”
Mr. Reynolds studied my work.
“That’s the reasoning she used on the examination. She understands it.”
Mr. Martin removed his glasses.
“Marissa, I owe you an apology. We should have reviewed your work fairly before allowing speculation to influence our judgment.”
I looked at him.
“Does that mean my score stands?”
“Yes. Your score stands, and we’ll address the rumors being spread about you.”
For the first time since entering the office, I could breathe.
But Nicholas wasn’t finished.
“Why?” he suddenly demanded.
Everyone turned.
He stared at Shane.
“Why would a professor from MIT spend a month tutoring Marissa for twenty dollars?”
Shane studied him for a moment.
“Because I saw potential in her work.”
Nicholas frowned.
“What work?”
“Several months ago, Marissa submitted a paper to a national youth science program. I was one of the faculty reviewers.”
My heart stopped.
I’d almost forgotten that paper.
I wrote it during winter break and submitted it to a student research competition. When weeks passed without a response, I assumed my work hadn’t been good enough.
Shane continued.
“The paper contained some technical errors. But the central idea was unusually creative.”
He looked at me.
“I’ve wanted to encourage you to continue studying physics ever since.”
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“You read my paper?”
“Several times.”
“But how did you become my tutor?”
“The academic program offered students access to a mentoring platform. When your tutoring request came through, I recognized your name from the submissions I’d reviewed.”
I remembered the program’s welcome email.
At the time, I’d been too overwhelmed with exams to pay much attention to it.
Shane smiled.
“I wanted to see how you approached difficult problems. And I discovered someone who was curious, determined, and willing to work harder than she realized.”
Nicholas stared at him.
“You knew she was talented?”
“I knew she had potential.”
“Then why didn’t you tell her?”
“Because confidence isn’t something I can simply hand to a student. I wanted her to discover what she could accomplish.”
Shane turned toward me.
“And she did.”
