“Was it the question or what you’re doing?”
I look away. “The question.”
“You don’t like to talk about your family in general or just your sister?”
He’s much too perceptive. “My family.”
“Okay, No talking about family. I get that. I’m not a fan of talking about my family, either.”
Now I wonder even more about his brother Marcel. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk.”
“Actually, we do. Your being able to carry a conversation is a good indicator of how much you’re pushing yourself.”
“Oh.”
He winks. “The challenge is to find a safe topic that doesn’t make you anxious. Any hints?”
That’s a good question. My life is math, school, tutoring, and hanging out with Caroline. “I’m pretty boring, Tucker.”
“I highly doubt that.” There’s a strange tone in his voice that sets off a flutter in my stomach. “Let’s start with the basics. I’d ask you where you’re from, but I suspect it falls under the not comfortable topics.”
I nod.
He smiles. “The past sucks. The future is what’s important.”
I laugh. “Says the history major.”
“Well…” A sheepish grin spreads across his face, and he rubs his hand through his hair. “What do you plan to do with your math major?”
“You really want to know?”
His voice turns serious. “Yes, Scarlett. I only want the truth from you.”
I turn to look at him.
“That’s what I love about you. You speak the truth, as painful or as uncomfortable it is for you to say and me to hear. People bullshit me all the time. I need the truth.”
I always worry people think I’m weird or will make fun of my career plans, but looking into Tucker’s face, I know he won’t think it’s odd. “I want to be an analyst for the CIA.”
He pauses. “That’s not something you just come up with. How did you find out about that kind of thing?”
“It was in math club in high school. One of our meetings was about careers with math.”
“Why did it excite you?”
My head swings to face him. “Why do you think it excites me?”
“Your eyes widened just a bit and got a sparkle that wasn’t there before.”
“That’s kind of scary, Tucker.” But I’m not frightened for my physical safety, more for my emotional. I wonder what else he sees in me that no one else does.
He shakes his head then shrugs. “I just pay attention. I read people.”
I do this in my own way, study people so I know where I stand and how to react. Tucker and I are more alike than I realize.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says. “Why does it excite you?”
“I don’t know.” It’s my turn to shrug. “I guess because I can use something I love to help people and it seems like a challenge. Maybe because it seems so unlike me.”
He gives me a soft smile. “I happen to like you the way you are.”
“You don’t even know me.”
Seriousness creeps into his eyes. “I think I know you better than you think.”
We walk in silence for several steps, and I know that Tucker’s confession should scare me and on some level it does, but mostly it fills me with wonder. For twenty years, I’ve kept myself, the real me, hidden from everyone. Even Caroline who knows me better than anyone doesn’t see it all. Could someone really see past the walls I put up and see me?
“And how does someone become an analyst for the CIA?”
“A minimum of a bachelor’s degree, although a master’s degree would help. I’m going to apply my senior year and see if they accept me without one. I’m not sure I can afford the tuition for a master’s. I’ve got a 4.0. I’m preparing for the GRE. My English and writing skills are strong, and I’m semi-fluent in Arabic. I’m a strong candidate on paper.”
“Why do I sense a but in there?”
I take a deep breath. “Oral communication is important.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “You can do it, Scarlett. You’ll be fine.”
I wish I were so sure.
We’ve already circled the track once, and Tucker is still walking at a brisk pace. “One more time around,” he says.
“And what about you? What do you plan to do with a history major?”
His mouth twists to the side. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
“Then why major in it?”
He laughs. “First of all, unlike you, not everyone in college is hyper-focused on their career plans. But you might find it hard to believe I’m not one of those students.” He winks. “I’m majoring in history because the major I want wasn’t an option.”
“And what do you want to major in?”
His face is devoid of emotion as he studies me. I can see he’s trying to decide whether he can trust me. “Physical education.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. It seems like the perfect fit.”
“My parents have very definite ideas about my career path, and my major has nothing to do with that.”
“You mean soccer?”
He takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m good, and I have a shot at the pros.”
“But you don’t want that?”