My Year in Chicago - Carl Gallagher

Je veux un café

A few weeks later, tutoring Carl didn't feel so awkward anymore. In fact, it had gotten... easier. We had fallen into a kind of routine, meeting in the library twice a week after school. I wasn't going to say Carl was a French genius all of a sudden, but he was definitely improving. I could tell he was actually trying now, even if he still acted like he didn't care half the time.

Today, I was waiting for him at our usual table, flipping through my notes while the late afternoon sun streamed through the library windows. Carl was late again, but that wasn't exactly news. At least this time, I knew he'd show up.

Just as I thought that, Carl walked in, his signature "I don't care" look in place—messy hair, his hoodie slightly crooked, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. But there was something different in his stride now, like he was more comfortable around me. He didn't bother with the fake attitude as much anymore, which I appreciated.

"Yo," he said, sliding into the chair across from me. "Sorry, got held up."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're always held up."

Carl grinned, shrugging. "I've got things to do, people to see." He opened his textbook and smirked at me. "But look, I'm here now. That counts, right?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling back. "Yeah, it counts. So, how's your French going?"

Carl leaned back, resting his hands behind his head. "I'm basically fluent now, didn't you know?"

I laughed. "Oh really? Okay, let's test that then." I flipped to the vocabulary list we'd been working on. "Translate this: *Je veux un café*."

Carl squinted at me, his expression playful but focused. "Uh... 'I want a coffee'?"

I raised my eyebrows, impressed. "Correct! See? You're getting the hang of it."

He gave a smug smile. "Told you, I'm a natural."

"Don't get too cocky," I teased, nudging the book closer to him. "You still have to nail the verbs. Let's go over them again."

Carl groaned, dropping his head onto the table dramatically. "Why are there so many conjugations? It's like they're trying to make this hard on purpose."

I laughed. "Welcome to the world of French. It only gets worse from here."

He peeked up at me, his face half-smushed against the table. "You really know how to motivate a guy, Anabelle."

I shook my head, still smiling as I tapped the book. "Come on, focus. You're doing well, but you're not off the hook yet."

Carl sat up, grabbing the pencil I'd placed next to his book. "Fine, fine. Hit me with another one."

We spent the next half hour going over verbs and phrases, and I could tell he was actually paying attention. It wasn't the same distracted Carl from our first few sessions. Now, he'd joke around, sure, but he also wanted to get it right. Every time he nailed a phrase, he'd look at me like he was proud of himself, and I'd give him a small nod, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I'd started to enjoy these sessions. Not just because Carl was improving, but because we'd grown more comfortable with each other. He wasn't just the intimidating, tough guy I'd first seen in the hallway. There was more to him—someone who could be funny, even kind of charming in his own way.

As we wrapped up the session, I leaned back in my chair and closed the book. "That's enough for today. You've earned a break."

Carl let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair. "Finally. I thought I was gonna forget how to speak English for a second there."

I laughed. "You wish."

He glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at me. "You got any plans for the weekend?"

I shrugged, surprised by the question. "Not really. Just hanging out with Julien and my dad, I guess. Maybe going to a museum or something."

Carl raised an eyebrow. "A museum? On a weekend? Sounds thrilling."

I gave him a look. "Not everyone spends their weekends playing basketball or causing trouble, you know."

He grinned. "You make it sound like I'm always getting into trouble."

"Well, aren't you?" I shot back, smirking.

Carl didn't answer right away. Instead, he just watched me for a second, his smirk softening into a small smile. "Not always."

The moment felt different—like there was something unspoken between us, but neither of us knew what to do with it. Before I could overthink it, Carl cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing his backpack.

"Well, I better get going," he said, slinging it over his shoulder. "Thanks for the help today. I might actually pass this class because of you."

"You're welcome," I said, still feeling that weird tension hanging in the air. "See you next week?"

Carl nodded, giving me a casual wave as he headed out the door. "Yeah, see you."

I watched him leave, my thoughts still lingering on the conversation. Carl had changed since our first session, and maybe, in a way, I had too. It wasn't just about the tutoring anymore. We'd become... friends? Or at least something like it.

I gathered my things, slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading for the door. As I walked out into the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something. What exactly, I wasn't sure yet.

But I had a feeling it wasn't going to be boring.