One Plus One: A Novel Read Free

Something about school.”
    She lifted a lock of that dyed black hair, and there it was: a fresh mark on his cheekbone. He ducked away. “Are you okay?”
    He shrugged, looked away from her.
    “Did they come after you again?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Why didn’t you call me?”
    “No credit on my phone.” He leaned back and fired a virtual grenade. The screen exploded into a ball of flame. He replaced his headphones and went back to the screen.
    —
    Nicky had come to live with Jess full-time eight years previously. He was Marty’s son by Della, a woman he’d dated briefly in his teens. Nicky had arrived silent and wary, his limbs thin and elongated, his appetite raging. His mother had fallen in with a new crowd, finally disappearing somewhere in the Midlands with a man called Big Al, who never looked anyone in the eye and clutched an ever-present can of Tennent’s Extra in his oversized fist. Nicky had been found sleeping in the locker rooms at school, and when the social workers called again, Jess had said he could come to them. “Just what you need,” Nathalie had said. “Another mouth to feed.”
    “He’s my stepson.”
    “You’ve met him twice in four years. And you’re not even twenty.”
    “Well, that’s how families are these days.”
    Afterward, she sometimes wondered whether that had been the final straw; the thing that had caused Marty to abdicate responsibility for his family altogether. But Nicky was a good kid, under all the raven hair and eyeliner. He was sweet to Tanzie, and on his good days he talked and laughed and allowed Jess the occasional awkward hug, and she was glad of him, even if it sometimes felt as if she had basically acquired one more person to feel anxious about.
    She stepped out into the garden with the phone and took a deep breath. “Um . . . hello? It’s Jessica Thomas here. I had a message to call.”
    A pause.
    “Is Tanzie . . . ? Is . . . is everything all right?”
    “Everything’s fine. Sorry. I should have said. It’s Mr. Tsvangarai here, Tanzie’s maths teacher.”
    “Oh.” She pictured him: a tall man in a gray suit. Face like a funeral director.
    “I wanted to talk to you because a few weeks ago I had a very interesting discussion with a former colleague of mine who works for St. Anne’s.”
    “St. Anne’s?” Jess frowned. “The private school?”
    “Yes. They have a scholarship program for children who are exceptionally gifted in maths. And as you know, we had already earmarked Tanzie as gifted and talented.”
    “Because she’s good at maths.”
    “Better than good. Well, we gave her the qualifying exam paper to sit last week. I don’t know if she mentioned it? I sent a letter home, but I wasn’t sure you saw it.”
    Jess squinted at a seagull in the sky. A few gardens along, Terry Blackstone had started singing along to a radio. He had been known to do the full Rod Stewart if he thought nobody was looking.
    “We got the results back this morning. And she has done well. Extremely well. Mrs. Thomas, if you’re agreeable, they would like to interview her for a subsidized place.”
    She found herself parroting him. “A subsidized place?”
    “For certain children of exceptional ability St. Anne’s will forgo a significant proportion of the school fees. It means that Tanzie would get a top-class education. She has an extraordinary numerical ability, Mrs. Thomas. I do think this could be a great opportunity for her.”
    “St. Anne’s? But . . . she’d need to get a bus across town. She’d need all the uniforms and kits. She—she wouldn’t know anyone.”
    “She’d make friends. But these are just details, Mrs. Thomas. Let’s wait and see what the school comes up with. Tanzie is a talented girl.” He paused. When she didn’t say anything, he lowered his voice: “I have been teaching maths for almost twenty-two years, Mrs. Thomas. And I have never met a child who grasped mathematical concepts as well as she does. I