"No kidding. I haven't understood a word he's said except 'class dismissed." Henry answered, a note of sarcasm in his face. He glanced down at the paper, pleased with the work and with the explanation he'd received. It actually wasn't as hard as he'd expected it to be, and this was one less class he'd have to catch up on over the weekend.
"Y'know, way way back, I actually wanted to be either a teacher or a hockey coach." Babe said, laughing. "I might just stick with tutor for now. What's up next? Let's see how much of this we can knock out."
Henry looked at her closely again. "That's crazy. You could do it, though. You don't yell when someone doesn't pick stuff up the first time." He pulled out his algebra (I don't know if he would do algebra at his age but I don't know enough high school math terms I guess…) and opened it to the page. "So, math is a little closer to my strong suit, but not with all these letters. Letters belong to English, numbers belong to math." He pulled out a notebook and started copying the equations he didn't understand.
"Okay, I'll admit I despise math, but let's see…" Babe leaned a bit closer to read the problems. "Oh, we did this at my old school, just before I left. What's the part you're having the most difficulty with?"
Henry leaned over it to point at the section he hadn't been able to finish before. He'd stayed up past midnight the other night staring at the same numbers. "Right here. I spent hours on this last night, and it still doesn't make sense."
"You're simplifying the problem wrong." Babe said almost immediately, copying down the problem the way she had the last one and showing him how to simplify it. "Staring at numbers too long can do that, so it helps to take a bit of a break, y'know."
Henry scratched his head. "Oh." He'd been simplifying it wrong? That meant he'd literally wasted two hours of sleep. He groaned, rethinking the problem and correcting it. "I thought you said you hated math. That would imply you aren't amazing at it."
"I'm not. I'm just good at picking things up quickly." Babe grinned, nudging his shoulder with her own. "Helps for learning plays, how people play, and anything I need."
"That must be a great skill to have. It took me forever to memorize enough plays, and even now I usually have to wing it and go with my gut." He finished the page of problems, nudging her back as his pencil scratched down on the paper until each equation had its answer.
"I turn them into songs sometimes." She admitted, turning her head as her phone buzzed from where it was lying on her bed. She limped over, leaving Henry at the desk, to check it. It was a text from Rico, one that made her roll her eyes.
Henry watched her closely. He couldn't recall ever meeting anyone quite as interesting as Babe, that was for sure. "You're amazing. You play hockey like a professional, wrangle a house of brothers, sing like an angel, and remember things by turning them into songs." He shook his head at her teasingly. "Listen, Nova, you better stop being so amazing or you'll make the normal kids feel bad."
Babe looked up, meeting his eyes as a light blush blossomed on her cheeks. "Uh, I'm not though?" She only played hockey so well because of who her dad was, and the brothers thing…that had just always been like that. "The song thing is a proven method of memorization, and I don't sing that well?"
Henry grinned, thrilled to see she felt awkward. "You sing better than anyone I've ever heard. How did you even get so good at hockey? I've always had an advantage, but what's your explanation story for those icey skills?"
Babe seemed to sober a bit at that. She wasn't sure whether she should tell him or not, but…she shook her head, limping over to one of her shelves. She pulled a framed photo off of it and brought it over, setting it in front of him. It was the front page of a newspaper, and the headline read 'Pro Hockey Player Bryson Nova's Daughter On The Fast Track To Her Own Career.' There, in the photo, was a picture of a younger Babe, with a man who had the same grey eyes and mischievous smile.
Henry's eyes scanned it all. "That's… Babe, what happened?" Without knowing it, his hand set down the pencil and the rest of the papers remained untouched. Something had changed, that was for sure. He had never heard any mention of Babe's father from her, or her brothers. His mind whirled around it, starting to put the pieces together.
Babe shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "He left. Had a career to focus on, and seven kids…that would have taken too much of his time." She looked tired, and just a tad bit empty. "He left a letter, and I-I watched him drive off in the middle of the night."
Henry, very awkwardly and slowly, reached out an arm to hug her. He really didn't know what to say, but he wanted Babe to know that he cared.
Babe blinked, pulled out of the memory. She looked down at Henry, who, thanks to the height difference and the fact that he was sitting, had an arm wrapped around her waist. After a moment she returned the hug, a shaky breath leaving her.
Still with nothing to say, Henry just kept his arm there until she pulled away. "How have you been since?" The question was quiet. He wasn't sure how much she wanted to tell him, and he didn't want to push her or make her feel like he was intruding.
"I've adjusted." Babe said, focusing on unbraiding her hair. She did that, the braiding and unbraiding thing, when she was slightly uncomfortable, or it was a heavier topic. "I've got mom, I've got my brothers."
"That's… that's good." He really didn't know what to say, so he decided to gracefully change the subject. "You know, that's still a better story than mine. My biggest claim to fame is that my parents wanted me to be a figure skater. Up until I was eleven and realized how lame it was." Or rather, until the boys at school had found out and given him the label of Twinkle Toes. At least now, he was left with the skill and balance the ice required for hockey.
"Figure skating is so cool though!" Babe said, shooting him a grateful look for the subject change. "The amount of balance and grace you need to pull off any of that? I hit a small pebble into a net with a glorified stick. Figure skating is where all the focus should be."
Henry shook his head. "Hardly. I wasn't cut out for it, and to be honest, I couldn't handle the teasing of those vicious sixth and seventh graders. It did leave me a nice background to get into hockey, but it wasn't awesome." He was glad she seemed to be off the subject, and even more glad she hadn't laughed and instantly called him Twinkle Toes herself. The nickname had mostly vanished, but it still surfaced whenever one of the team decided they needed to take Henry down a notch.
"That's too bad. I would have asked for some help with balance." Babe made a mock pouting face, before grinning. "So, you were a figure skater. What other deep dark secrets are you hiding?" She joked, bumping him with her hip.
Henry pretended to stroke a long beard. "Well, back in my day, I was also great at wrestling goats. Did you know you have to trim their nails every four to six months?" He questioned her, putting on an old person accent. "Among my other, countless, achievements. Of course, I'd be happy to help you work on balance stuff sometime. Payback for all your help with this schoolwork." He gestured at the books spread out.