The Turing Test

Chapter 7

September

"Wait, so what are their names again?"

"Alex, Kai, Ben, and Cole."

"And the kid who's tutoring you, he's not one of them?"

"No, his name is Jimmy."

"Wow," Wes begins sarcastically. "When I said to get a boyfriend, I didn't mean get five. That's a little extra, don't you think?"

I roll my eyes, "It's not like I'm actually close friends with any of them. They just let me sit at their table, and Jimmy is helping me out with English."

Before Wes can respond, my dad calls from the kitchen, "Dinner is ready!"

At the dinner table, Wes and I sit across from each other, in order to make faces and see each other's reactions to conversations. Josh is next to me, and I'm just waiting for him to be yelled at for using his phone under the table.

"Olivia, why don't you tell us about your new friend at school?" my mom targets me.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, because I don't have any," I state.

Wes giggles when I say this.

"I'm talking about the girl you drive home every day," mom gestures with her fork. "You two seem to be spending a lot of time together lately."

"Oh," I start to laugh, "Klara? Yeah, we're best buds. I love hearing her talk about her problems that I don't understand, and then listening to her point out my flaws in a passive aggressive way." Wes raises his eyebrows at me from across the table, and we stifle our mirth. I restrain from telling my mom that in actuality, I'm not giving her rides by choice. She just waits by my car everyday and forces herself on me. Although, I guess people could call that friendship nowadays.

"What about you Wes? How's school this year?" my dad fortunately shifts the attention onto Wes.

"It's not the same without Via, but it's good," Wes nods.

"Tell them how you applied to Cal Poly on Friday," his mom adds with a wry smile.

"I applied to Cal Poly on Friday," Wes says flatly. I choke a little, and begin drinking my water so I don't laugh noticeably.

"Good school," my dad nods. "Do you think you'll get in?"

I subtly pretend to shoot myself across the table. Wes struggles to keep a straight face.

"I hope so. But I guess we'll have to wait to find out."

* * * * *

When I open the door, Jimmy is standing with his hands shoved into his pockets. He seems surprised when I do this, as if he wasn't expecting to see me.

"I didn't really know what to bring, so..." he shifts from one foot to the other.

"You're all good, I don't think you need anything," I smile and let him in. He takes his hands out of his pockets and taps them on the sides of his legs as he walks in. I lead him down the hallway, "So this is the living room. Over there is the dining room, and behind that is the kitchen. Down that hall is the stairs, and that's about it."

"It's nice," Jimmy looks around at my parents' display of sophistication and fine arts.

"Yeah, it's actually new. We just moved in this summer, so it's a miracle it looks like this, all finished and crowded with stuff."

"Um, where do you want to work?"

"We can just go in the dining room," I lead the way, grabbing my backpack from the chair against the wall. I slide to the end of the table, and start pulling out my stuff. Then I notice that Jimmy is just hovering by the table. "You can sit, you know," I point out, my voice hinting at mockery. I keep it subtle though, because I'm not sure if we're close enough yet where I can give him shit.

"Right," he shakes his head slightly, and then sits down quickly in the chair next to mine. His awkwardness makes me smile a little, because it makes me feel like I can be more comfortable. He clears his throat, "So, did you finish the character worksheet from last class?"

I pull out my computer, "Yes, but that's not what I need your help with. I need your help rewriting this essay."

"Is that the one you got a D on?"

"One of many," I joke, and then slide my computer over to him. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong, because I have no idea."

He adjusts his glasses and leans forward to read. I wait impatiently for him to finish, not knowing what to do with myself as he reads. I suddenly feel very vulnerable. My eyes graze the entirety of the room as I pretend to ignore the slight tension. It's not until he's reading my creative essay that I realize how little I know this boy.

"Um, okay," he sits up when he's done. "It's....decent."

"Jimmy, if you're going to help me, you need to be completely honest. I want you to tell me straight up how horrible it is. No sugar-coating."

His forehead wrinkles above his glasses, "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Lay it on me."

"Okay it's just," he thinks about how to continue, and then the words come flooding out of him all at once, "I didn't really understand anything you were saying. You were telling about five different stories at the same time, and switching from past tense to present tense without letting the reader know, and then it ended in a very confusing way that seemed slightly unrelated to the rest of it."

"Yikes," I wince. I appreciate his honesty, but I'm starting to see how he doesn't have a lot of experience being sensitive about other people around him.

Jimmy sees my face, "I'm sorry, that came out a little harsh. It was actually a really good idea, you just need to work on the format a little more. How many times did you edit this before you turned it in?"

I laugh a little, "That's funny, I didn't think anyone actually did that. I wrote it the night before."

"Well now that I'm meeting with you once a week, we can change that habit," he says.

"You're such a nerd," I laugh.

His face falls a little bit, and suddenly, I regret saying that. I can usually only get away with saying that to Wes.

"In a good way," I add.

I think he catches on now, and realizes I'm joking. He laughs a little too, and his expression lightens.

"So....are you going to do the reading tonight, or procrastinate until tomorrow?"

I look over at him, "Are you kidding? Do you even know who I am?"

He recognizes the familiar sarcastic banter that we share in class, and this makes him more comfortable. "Right, I forgot. This is your favorite class." I start to see him relax in his chair, and that thin smile becomes more permanent. The tension in the room ebbs away slowly as we exchange sarcastic remarks, and little by little, Jimmy becomes less of a stranger.