Cursed

Chapter Four

Suspended in the awkward position, Adrienne found herself gripping his vest hard, in case the arm supporting her gave way. His skin was the color of milk chocolate, his eyes warm brown. He reminded her of a magazine cover model with chiseled features, large eyes, and an athletic frame pressed against hers that was muscular and warm. Even before he flashed a huge smile, his charisma was apparent in his confident, sparkling gaze. Tall and strong, he held her whole body in one arm, as if she weighed no more than a doll.

“Hey,” he said. His baritone voice was naturally husky.

“Uh hey,” she murmured. She carefully pulled her feet beneath her, uncertain why her insides felt like they were shaking. Or melting. Maybe both?

He grimaced. “I think that’s your soda.”

She felt it then, the cold wetness of the drink crushed between them. It was running down her skirt and one leg. Humiliated, she pushed back from him. His grip loosened without letting her go completely.

Yeah, it was her soda all right. The front of both of their white shirts were soaked, along with the front of his pants and a strip of wetness down her skirt.

“I am so sorry,” she said. She gazed down at her lunch on the floor, dismayed.

“I needed the cold shower.”

Adrienne looked up, startled. Was he … was he flirting with her?

He was grinning. His dazzling smile held her mesmerized for a second, before her face felt too hot under his direct gaze.

“I, um, I can … buy you a new …soda,” she said. She started to the station that held the utensils, straws and napkins, only to realize he was still touching her. He drew her back to stand before him.

“No, but since I ruined your lunch, I’ll buy you a new one,” he replied. “My treat.”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I was done.”

“It doesn’t look like you ate anything,” he said, his gaze on the mess on the floor.

“Yeah,” she murmured, admiring his features again.

“Then I’ll buy.”

She shook her head. Adrienne took a few steps back, slipped, and found herself clutching his arm. He steadied her.

“You sure? I feel totally lame,” he said.

“No, I’m okay,” she answered. “I’ll just go …um, away now.” She turned and hurried to the hallway.

Outside the cafeteria, she released her breath. She had no idea who he was, but he was beyond attractive. Not the kind of guy who’d ever give her the time of day. Not only was she probably the poorest kid in school, but people tended to freak out when they discovered that her sister was murdered because of a voodoo curse placed on her family hundreds of years ago. She’d kissed one boy at a party one of her friends had, but she’d never been held by a guy before, and definitely not by one who looked like him.

Handsome. Strong. Intoxicating.

Wow.

“Can I get your name at least?”

She turned, surprised to see him paused in front of the door to the cafeteria. For the second time in two days, someone was asking her name. She wasn’t certain why she felt a tremor of unease. After all, everyone at school would be talking about her after her embarrassing fall in the cafeteria. She didn’t sense the threat from this guy that she had the man in the alley.

Still, she hesitated.

“Come on!” he said. “I saved you from certain death in there! You were almost eaten alive by French fries. Just a name.”

She giggled, drawn in by the charismatic smile. She shook her head and whirled, all but fleeing down the hallway. Adrienne ran into a bathroom to try to clean up her clothes. Her hands trembled from the interaction. She felt silly – then devastated when she looked in the mirror.

She bought her two uniforms off of craigslist. Neither fit well, and she couldn’t afford to ruin one on her first day of school. She grabbed paper towels and dabbed at her shirt.

A flash of red drew her attention towards the mirror.

A robed man in red stood a few feet behind her, his face hidden by the depths of his hood and his robes rippling as if he stood before a fan.

The figure from Therese’s journal.

Adrienne’s pulse surged.

She whirled, only to find no one behind her. She scanned the bathroom quickly, but he was gone. When she returned to the mirror, she didn’t see him.

Maybe I shouldn’t be reading that journal before bed. She stared at herself, waiting for the vision to return.

“Oh no, what happened?”

She looked towards the open door at the familiar voice, pleased to see the only person who’d spoken to her all day. Emma was a pretty girl with honey-colored skin and large eyes. She walked with a pronounced limp and kept to herself in the first class they shared together.

“I ran into someone in the cafeteria,” Adrienne replied, forcing herself to relax. “Ruined my whole lunch.”

“I’m headed that way now. We can go together.”

“I’m not very hungry.” Adrienne’s attention returned to her clothes. She hadn’t expected lunch at the cafeteria to be twice what it was at McDonald’s. She’d spent her whole ten dollars on a cheeseburger and fries.

“I can buy, if you want,” Emma said.

Adrienne’s face was warm again. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“You look like you’re having a rough day,” Emma said. “Besides, you’re the first person who’s talked to me this year.”

“Really?” Adrienne looked up at the note of vulnerability in Emma’s voice. She realized Emma hadn’t been trying to take pity on her, which made no sense, since she was cute and slender, the kind of girl who had been popular in her old school. “You eat alone?”

“Yeah.” Emma’s face grew red. “It’s been like this since last winter. I um, got in a car accident, and people kind of don’t want anything to do with me.”

“That’s awful. But it’s not like it was your fault, right?” Adrienne asked.

“Well, yeah, it was. I was drinking after a Christmas party. All of us got hurt,” Emma explained. “I used to eat lunch every day on the school grounds, but it’s raining, so I can’t today. I have to go in there and face … everyone.”

“I know that feeling,” Adrienne said with a frown. Emma was clearly uncomfortable talking about the accident, so Adrienne steered the conversation away. “I went to the same all-girls school my whole life. When I walked in a few minutes ago, I was like, no way can I do this every day.”

“We can eat together on the campus when it’s not raining.”

“And today, we can face everyone together?”

Emma nodded.

“Okay,” Adrienne said. “You can buy me lunch today, and I’ll buy tomorrow.” She finished drying up what she could of the soda then walked with Emma down the hallway. Part of her dreaded seeing the handsome guy again. Another part of her prayed she would.

One of the things she didn’t miss about her old school: there were no guys at the all-girls Baptist school. She’d seen so many handsome boys here during the first half of her day and now, she knew what it was like for one of them to touch her. She liked it. A lot.

“What’re you smiling at, Addy?” Emma asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just … whatever.”

“Ugh, don’t look. It’s the stupid cheer squad.” Emma ducked her head.

Adrienne glanced up, curious. The six girls were slender and gorgeous, all in too-snug school uniforms with carefully manicured faces and hands. The sight of them laughing and talking made them almost approachable, if they weren’t so perfect. Adrienne glanced down at her pink nail polish. It almost seemed … childish compared to the fashionable colors of dark blue and maroon they wore. Even their eye shadow colors and lipstick were sophisticated. A cloud of expensive perfumes enveloped them.

She felt plain, ugly, with the clothes that didn’t fit and her chipping nail polish. Her vanilla scented lotion came in industrial-sized bottles.

“I wish I could look like that,” she said wistfully as the girls passed.

“But then you wouldn’t hang out with me.”

“Of course I would, Emma. You’ve been so sweet to me today.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Girls like that don’t hang out with girls like us. I know. I used to be one of them. Kimmie had to have her nose redone after the accident. She never forgave me and kicked me off the cheer squad.”

Adrienne sensed there was more to the story of why Emma was so alone at the school, but didn’t ask. She glanced down at herself, depressed to find herself agreeing that she at least didn’t fit in with the popular clique. She was too poor. At least the stranger in the cafeteria had made her feel good for all of two seconds today.

She searched the cafeteria for him when they entered, relieved he wasn’t there. His intensity left her speechless.

“I’m trying to keep at a size zero. It’s hard when one leg doesn’t work right,” Emma said. “You like salads?”

“Sure.”

Emma led her to the salad station, and they ordered. They sat away from everyone else.

“You’re here on scholarship, right?” Emma asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Sorta. We always hear rumors about the new kids before they get here. Whose daughter or son it is, who their parents are,” Emma explained. “When someone randomly appears, it screams scholarship.”

“Yeah, I was referred I guess. I got scouted in Atlanta. Went to one of them talent contests they have at the mall,” Adrienne said with a sigh. “Said I was good, but not what they wanted. One of them knew someone on the board here, and I got an audition with Christy for the scholarship.”

“Wow. You must be incredible,” Emma said enviously. “I used to dance, before the accident.”

“You have better talents. You’re gentle and sweet and nice.”

“Those aren’t talents.”

“Um, okay, if everyone was like you, we wouldn’t be stuck sitting in no corner.”

Emma laughed. “You’re so weird.”

“You see? You are special,” Adrienne said, smiling. “I’m poor, Emma. Real poor. But it’s made me appreciate the little things.”

“I want to be poor, too.”

It was Adrienne’s turn to laugh. “Oh, no you don’t! It’s plain awful!”

They ate quietly.

The talent scouts hadn’t wanted her, but she’d figure out how to break into the music scene on her own. This school and its renowned vocal instructor was the first step. The money she was saving from her weekend job as a tarot card reader for Madame Estelle’s Psychic Arts, located two wards over, was second. She had almost two thousand dollars scrimped away from tips and wages. When she had enough, she could put together her first album in the hopes of catching the attention of music producers. New Orleans led the jazz music industry.

The warning bell rang, and they ate faster so as not to be late to the next class. Adrienne got lost on her way back to her locker and ended up late anyway. She tried to cover the stains on her clothes with her books as she crept into class. Everyone stared at her, and she slunk to the only open seat, which happened to be right up front.

“Nice of you to join us, Ms. St. Croix,” the instructor said. “Class, meet Adrienne St. Croix, a new transfer from New Orleans.”

“Definitely a scholarship student,” one of the girls nearby said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Let’s start the school year with some positivity, shall we?” the teacher chided her.

“She crawled out of the bayou to be here,” another snickered.

“Swamp girl!” the girl behind her whispered.

They laughed.

Adrienne stared straight ahead. Once they heard her sing, they’d stop laughing. Even if she never really fit in, they’d soon understand why she was there. She leaned down to her book bag to dig out the gris-gris her mother made her before she left Georgia. It was a simple cross her mother had dressed with oils and powders meant to give Adrienne strength and comfort her when she missed her family.

The rest of her day passed quickly. In the next class, another girl made a crack about the scholarship status. Adrienne went to the bathroom twice more to stare into the mirror and wait for the Red Man to appear. Was there a chance he wasn’t as threatening as the journal seemed to make him? Did he know something about her sister’s disappearance?

He didn’t reappear and she suspected she’d been imagining things.

Fortunately, Emma was in her last class and saved her a seat. Grateful, Adrienne sat near her new friend, happy to have almost survived her first day of her senior year.

Until she saw how right Emma was about the rain. It was pouring before the final class was over. Dismayed, she hurried to grab her things then walked off the campus in the sticky, Southern downpour and waited at the crowded bus stop down the street. She sank back from the road into the crowd, not wanting any of her classmates to see her and have yet another reason to ridicule her.

The bus was packed, and she didn’t get to her stop until almost five o’clock.

Rain greeted her when she reached the sidewalk. Adrienne glanced up, hoping her iPad didn’t get ruined. The money she was saving was to help her produce her own album, not replace her school-issued iPad every time it rained.

The bus let her off on the backside, far corner of the block where her father’s apartment building was located. No matter which way she went, she’d have an equal distance to go around the block. She hurried down the street.

She kept close to the buildings in the hope of hiding beneath awnings from the rain and skirting clumps of people taking refuge. Trotting past the alley acting as a short cut through the block, she reached the opposite sidewalk and paused.

If she went through, she’d end up right at her dad’s building. If she continued, she had to finish circling the block. Her eyes settled on the familiar garbage dumpster near the other end of the alley. A few bums were huddled in soaked boxes or beneath rain ponchos, but none of them appeared to be a threat.

Wet iPad or run through the alley? She asked herself.

She started down the alley at a jog. When she reached the center, she slowed some, glancing around. The rain had faded to a drizzle. She expected the guy in the red sweatshirt to appear out of thin air.

He didn’t.

Was she relieved, or did she want to see him? To ask him what he knew about her sister? In daylight, he wouldn’t be as scary. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Adrienne reached the dumpster and paused again, glancing back.

Her heart leapt, and she stifled a cry of surprise.

He was there, where he’d been the night before, his features still hidden beneath a hood. Without the night to play tricks on her eyes, she was able to see his form this time. He was tall and strong, wearing the same baggy, dark jeans and red sweatshirt.

“Your daddy should’ve told you to stay out of the alleys,” he told her.

Adrienne clutched her purse to her chest, uncertain how to take his words. They were more of an observation than a threat. Hopefully, that meant he wasn’t the neighborhood serial killer.

“I’m sorry,” she said, glancing around. It was possible he lived there with the other bums, though she saw no makeshift shelters at this end of the alley. “I wanted to ask you how you knew my sister.”

“Why do you think I knew her?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “You knew her name. I thought maybe …”

He turned away as he had last night and began walking.

“Wait!” she called. “Will you at least tell me if you did know her?”

“Give me your name, sister of Therese.”

Adrienne swallowed hard.

He waited.

“Adrienne,” she whispered. “Adrienne St. Croix.”

“Yes, I knew her. Briefly.”

Emotion surged within her. Unable to sort through it, Adrienne was lost in her thoughts for a few seconds. His movement pulled her free.

“Wait!” she repeated. “Who are you? How did you know her? Did she -”

“One question, Adrienne,” he replied. “Which do you want me to answer?”

She thought furiously. Of all the things she wanted to know, she also feared learning the truth. What if her sister had been involved in something bad? Or died horribly? Was she ready to know?

“Your name,” she said.

“Jacques. People around here call me Jax.”

Jax. She’d look him up in Therese’s journal.

“How well did you know her?” she asked.

“Why?”

“I’m curious. It’d be real nice to know she had friends or something when she was here. Sometimes I think … well, I mean, they didn’t find no body.”

Jax faced her once more. “Don’t you go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“But she’s my sister.”

“Why you asking me all this? Did … someone contact you?”

“No. Like who?” she asked. “Police?”

“They have no idea what goes on around here.” Jax chuckled. “Listen, sister of Therese. These are my streets. Nothing happens that I don’t now about, and I determines what happens to people who don’t listen to me. I don’t want to hear of you asking these kinds of questions. You hear me?”

She swallowed hard.

“Do you?” he demanded.

She nodded.

“What happened to your sister is none of your business.” He turned away and began walking once more.

“I miss her,” she murmured.

“She didn’t die, Adrienne,” he replied without stopping. “Be a good girl and drop it.”

Taken aback, she watched him walk the length of the alley the way he had last night.

She’d been to Therese’s funeral, which they’d held in New Orleans. Even if she didn’t recall much about her eldest sister, the funeral was emblazoned in her memory. The transition to spirithood was a time to celebrate among the voodoo community, and there was no funeral procession like one in New Orleans. She’d been in awe of the days of magical rites honoring ancestors and gods, and the colorful, musical procession to the graveyard that featured a band of horns and the presence of every family member and friend they’d ever met. They’d had leftovers of flavorful Creole food for weeks.

Maybe Jax didn’t know her sister after all.

Except that his words only confirmed the instinct that grew more insistent by the day. There was a reason she was receiving mysterious sticky notes and her sister’s journal. She was meant to dig into her sister’s disappearance, perhaps to prevent her own fate at the hands of the curse.

She didn’t die. What if Jax spoke the truth? Was this why the mark of the curse was on Adrienne’s shoulder?

Adrienne hurried inside, itching to read the journal for any mention of him.

Her father was home early, sitting on the couch with a beer. He wore his work pants from the mechanic shop and a white t-shirt. The two-bedroom apartment was cluttered and filled with oversized furniture that made it feel even smaller, and his legs were slung over the wide coffee table splitting the space between the couch and television stand.

“Rough day, Daddy?” she called as she walked in. She dropped her book bag near the door.

“Your mother called me at work about child support. I’m working double time now. Gonna have to get another job to pay for the kids.”

“That sucks.”

“I’m doing my best, pun’kin.”

Adrienne went to the kitchen to start dinner. She put a pot of water on the stove before running to change out of her wet clothes. Upon returning, she picked up the phone from the counter. There was no dial tone.

“Um, Daddy, did you pay the phone bill?”

“Nah. I had to cut out some things last month.”

“Omigod, dad!” she exclaimed. “I have friends! How am I supposed to talk to them and remind Lilian when to give Mama her meds? What if I get a boyfriend?”

“Tell your mama to put you on her cell plan. Probably cheaper than my monthly bill. Don’t they give out phones for free now anyway?”

Adrienne ignored him, wishing he’d consider her every once in a while. She took care of him and even chipped in for groceries.

Then again, he was sending the extra money to her mother to help support the three sisters Adrienne left behind in Atlanta. Was she being selfish?

She tied her hair back and checked the pot on the stove.

Her dad moved to the doorway, frowning. “You have a boyfriend already?”

“No, Daddy.”

With a sigh, he sat down at the cramped table in the kitchen. Adrienne handed him a new beer then set out their plates.

“I can’t believe you’re seventeen,” he mumbled. “You should have a boyfriend. But I don’t want you to. This is what they call denial.”

“Oh, god. Have you been reading one of them self-help books again?” she asked with a smile.

“Them self-help books say not to drink,” he pointed out and lifted his beer. “You’re beautiful, Adrienne, almost as pretty as Therese. You should have a boyfriend.”

She rolled her eyes at him again.

“Just don’t get knocked up. Remember your dating rules.”

“No dating anyone with darker skin than mine. That’d be racist, Daddy.”

“Read the stats. Most black boys end up in prison as criminals. They get no education and will use you for money.”

“I don’t have no money,” she said. “You’re still bitter about the War of Northern Aggression, Daddy. My generation is way beyond that.” Her thoughts went to the guy from the cafeteria. He was way too good looking to be interested in someone like her anyway. But if he were …

“I met someone.”

She whirled, surprised. “Who? Where?” she demanded.

“Her name’s Candace. She brought her car into the shop a month ago and came back to pick it up today. Real pretty. Her family owns a coffee shop.”

He was in a good mood, a rare occurrence from her experience living with him the past two weeks. Adrienne was burning to know more about her oldest sister. She’d always feared asking her daddy anything. A glance at the smile on his face made her think he might humor her.

“Daddy,” she started. “What happened the day Therese disappeared?”

The glow left his eyes. His features grew shuttered, and for a long moment, he was still enough to be a statue. Finally, he responded.

“Don’t never ask me about that, Adrienne.”

She swallowed hard, disappointed and upset she’d caused him pain. She turned away and dropped macaroni into the boiling pot.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she whispered. “I miss her.”

“You should know better than to talk about such a thing.”

“I know, Daddy.” Adrienne cleared her throat and watched the pasta swirl in the pot. After a tense moment, she changed the subject. “So…what’s Candace like?”

“She’s special,” he replied. He had recovered from her question, though the glow in his eyes hadn’t yet returned. “Real special.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

Smiling, Adrienne drained the macaroni in the sink with a glance in his direction. “You really like this Candace lady?”

“Yeah.” He was thoughtful. “It’s the first time I’ve felt…good. Just talking to her.”

“Daddy, that’s wonderful,” Adrienne said. “Really. Are you going on a date?”

“Lunch date tomorrow.” A slow smile crossed his face, something she hadn’t seen in too long. “We might go out this weekend, too.”

“Can I meet her?”

He hesitated. “I’m protective of my little girl. It might be too early.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be.”

“Omigod.” She mixed in the cheese powder, butter and milk, making his favorite meal of mac’ n’ cheese from a box. He was easy to please, and she was starving after the salad she had for lunch. “You want chips?”

“Yeah.”

Adrienne crossed to the tiny pantry and retrieved a bag of chips for him. She placed bowls on the two plastic place mats on the table and sat down across from him.

“How was school?” he asked.

“Meh.”

“What’s the adult translation?”

“It was school,” she said with a shrug. “Made a friend, might’ve ruined one uniform after spilling soda on it. Vocals went awesome. The instructor is fantastic.”

“Did you tell what them talent scouts at the mall said?”

“Yes, Daddy. She was impressed. Said I might just have what it takes to get into one of them jazz bands. She wants to work with me first, but says I got a good future in music.”

“She sounds real nice.”

“She is.”

“How are the snotty rich kids?”

“Just like any other kids,” she said. “I miss my old school. It’s scary to start over somewhere new.”

“Don’t I know it. Like with Candace. I keep thinking I’ll mess it up, like I did with your mom.”

“You’ll do fine, Daddy. You’re a good man.” Adrienne smiled at him. After their disastrous venture into the topic of Therese, she was happy to hear that he was interested in dating someone. “I really want to meet her.”

“I’ll think about it. You’ve gotta work this weekend anyway. That puff cereal you like ain’t free.”

“I know,” she murmured. She was paying for her lunch money, books, clothes, basically everything she needed while in town. “I’m helping pay my own way like I promised when I got into the rich kid school, aren’t I?”

“You are,” he agreed. “I appreciate it, Addy. I can’t afford to have you living with me otherwise. You’d be back with your mama.”

“God gave me my gift for a reason,” she told him. “Don’t you worry, Daddy. Things will get better and I’ll take care of you and Mama. I promise.”

“I reckon you will.” He was despondent again, and Adrienne guessed his thoughts were on Therese.

They ate in silence, and she retrieved her backpack from the foyer. Her dad returned to the television, and she pulled out the iPad containing all her textbook files and homework.

What she didn’t tell him: some of the classes were beyond her. The kids were much more cultured and advanced than she was after years in a school more focused on the bible than math and science. She felt like she was reading Dr. Seuss while they were quoting Shakespeare. It’d take a lot of work to keep up and pass the classes. Her scholarship required at least C grades across the board.

Even knowing she needed to study, she found herself reaching for the black journal instead. Adrienne glanced into the living room to make sure her father was occupied with the television. She cracked the journal open and pushed through a few pages before deciding to start in the back. There were no dates in the journal, aside from the year embossed on the front cover, the year Therese spent in New Orleans with their father. If she ran into Jax, would there be some record of it?

Adrienne pulled out her French dictionary. If there was a mention of Jax, would she be able to decipher the jumbled French and English enough to understand it?

She sighed. Instead of translating, should she just skim for some mention of Jax?

She started at the back of the book once again, eyes falling to the protection symbols.

“He’s coming,” she repeated. She idly traced the robed figure with a finger. As before, her heart quickened of its own accord, as if some part of her sensed the danger she couldn’t define.

Perplexed, Adrienne flipped back a page. She hadn’t yet been able to determine what it was her sister was doing. She knew most of the veves from seeing them around her mother’s house. The only drawings that made no sense were those of the Red Man and the symbols around him.

A sketch of a zombie made her giggle. Therese had drawn it with googly eyes and a corny smile on its face. Adrienne saw several examples of her sister’s fun sense of humor and felt a familiar ache. They used to tell stupid jokes to each other all the time. Too poor to go to the movies or shop, they’d used their imaginations in a competition of who could make up the worst joke.

She could imagine Therese bent over her journal in the room that was now Adrienne’s, writing feverishly then laughing at the funny drawings as she made them.

Except it wasn’t a normal journal. It had a purpose, a special one that eluded Adrienne. Some of the writing and drawings were repetitive, as if Therese had an obsessive tendency as well.

The sketch of a fat heart caught her attention. It was in a corner of a page.

“J and T,” Adrienne murmured. She focused on this page. Pockets of writing were interspersed with veves.

Does Jax love me?

Adrienne sucked in a breath, startled to read one full, coherent sentence among the disjointed sentences on the pages. She looked up at the clock, dismayed to see two hours had passed. It was close to eight and she had homework to do.

Excited, Adrienne marked the page in Therese’s journal then set it aside with some difficulty.

She pulled a notebook and pencil from her bag and started taking notes of what homework she needed to do. Completing it would mean she’d be up half the night, and she tapped her pen against the notebook in frustration.

What if she couldn’t keep up? What if she lost her scholarship and never made it into the music industry? Christie told her talent scouts from major conservatories came to the academy. Did she have a chance of being discovered and given a scholarship to a prestigious conservatory or college known for its music program?

They were opportunities she hadn’t had at her Baptist school outside of Atlanta. She had to focus on studying.

What if the journal could tell her why she bore the mark of the curse?

Torn between her sister’s diary and homework, Adrienne pushed herself away from the table to grab a glass of water.

Homework tonight. Tomorrow, the diary, she promised herself. She returned to the table and pulled out her Tarot deck, wanting to check her cards to see how tomorrow would be before she drowned herself in homework.

After handling them for a moment, she drew one.

“Page of Cups, Reversed.” She thought hared for a moment. “Proceed with caution.”

It was a generally good omen, one she took to be reasonable, given it was her second day of school and she’d already started to fall head over heels for a boy she didn’t know.

Not nearly as satisfied with this card as the one she drew the night before, she threw herself into her schoolwork with earnest.