The tutor signs their email E.L.W. No first or last name?
Whatever. I stop walking and start typing a reply, making sure to leave Coach Wilson out of this thread. The last thing I need is for him to keep tabs on me. I don’t want to be made to suffer on the football field for anything he considers to be out of line.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Tutoring Sessions
Hi E.L.W.,
Thank you for your email. I have a slightly complicated schedule. For this tutoring thing to be feasible, we’re going to have to work around it. I have football practice and other things to do today. Tomorrow is also a busy day. Actually, now that I think about it, I’m going to be busy all week. What does your Saturday look like?
Also, I don’t know what you meant by assignments…like homework?
Best,
Mr. Hayes.
I laugh out loud the moment I hit send. If this tutor wants to refer to me as Mr. Hayes, I might as well go with it too. Putting my phone into my back pocket, I continue heading over to the Athletics Center.
Reaching the building, I walk straight to the locker room and find my gym bag, switching over to my practice gear and joining the guys outside on the field. I try slipping into the crowd without notice because, although I’m not late, I’m not early either. Everyone’s already stretching, but there’s no sign of Coach. Mentally, I high-five myself.
“How was the meeting?” Nick asks the moment he spots me.
“I was late to the meeting,” I tell him. I know this will distract him from asking any more questions I’m not prepared to answer. I don’t want to tell him I failed a class and Coach assigned me a tutor. I don’t doubt Nick’s done something like that before, but still, I don’t want others to think I’m not giving it my all. I am. I just can’t do it all sometimes.
He laughs. “You shouldn’t have stayed up so late!”
“You shouldn’t have invited me,” I tell him. But he’s right. I could’ve said no to going to the party. I could’ve gone to bed. Instead, I decided to stay longer than I should have.
A whistle blows and we all turn. “Stop chatting, ladies, and get to it. Hayes, you owe me a few laps.”
More laps? “Yes, Coach.” To Nick, I say, “Gotta go.” I begin running. I guess Coach wants to keep punishing me, not just for being late, but for failing too.
Three hours later, practice ends and I feel tiredness envelop me as I slowly make my way to the locker room. By the time I get out of the shower and change, I feel like I’m sleep walking.
“Want a ride to the house?” Colton asks, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
I nod, picking up my own bag. “Thanks.”
“How’s it going?” he asks as we walk to his car.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” he says, his voice stern.
I shrug. “Things are a little tough right now, but I can handle it.”
“If you need help, just ask for it.” Colton’s always been there for me. Offering everything from rides to money. I never took the latter. My parents would be disappointed in me if I took money from one of the rich kids at school; I was taught to work for everything.
“I know,” I tell him. “If I need help, I’ll ask.”
It’s a lie, of course. I’ll drown in a sea of responsibilities and problems before letting anyone pull me to shore. “I heard Coach asked to meet with you yesterday.” Of course he’d hear that. I’m surprised he didn’t confront me about it yesterday.
“Yeah… He, uh…” I think about what to tell him before settling on the truth. “He got me a tutor.”
Colton unlocks the car. “Why do you need a tutor?” I throw my bag into the back then collapse into the passenger seat.
“Well…” I swallow, “I kind of failed biology.”
“Seriously?”
I nod as Colton pulls out of the parking lot. “Yup.”
“What does that mean for the championship?” He asks the same question I found myself asking Coach yesterday.
“Coach managed to get Professor Stein to let me retake the final exam.”
“When?”
“At the end of the break.”
“And that’s why you got a tutor?”
“Exactly.”
“Don’t mess it up,” Colton warns. I know he doesn’t mean it as a threat. He’s aware of what my goals are, what my home life is like. He understands I have a job I go to, and that juggling so many balls means I occasionally drop one. Grades aren’t something I can drop though—not when it affects my ability to play football.
“I won’t.” The rest of the drive goes by in silence and as soon we reach the house, I open the door to get out. Taking my bag out from the backseat, I thank Colton for the ride before heading to my room.
I drop face-first onto my bed, my bag forgotten on the floor by the door. I’ll just get some sleep since I’ve got practice and work again tomorrow.
10
EMMA
“Can you believe it?” I ask Zoe as she sits in the seat across from me. I’ve just finished telling her about my dad and mom separating, finally finding the courage to talk to her about it. I had to do it over ice cream though, so we went to a nearby shop.
“He called you into his office just to say that?” she asks.
My anger returns. “Nope. I was about to walk out of the room when he sprung the news on me.”
“That’s cold.”
I scoop another spoonful of ice-cream into my mouth. “Tell me about it.”
“So why did he call you in the first place?”
I sigh. “He realized I’m good at science.”
My roommate laughs. “I should hope so—it’s your major.”
“I don’t think he knows that. Anyway, he wants me to tutor one of his football players.”
“Is it someone we know? It’s gotta be!” Zoe says, happier about the task than I am.
“Stop being excited,” I warn her. “But I have no clue. The point is, I don’t want to do it.”
“Then why don’t you just say no?” Zoe brings her spoonful of vanilla ice cream into her mouth.
I break the ice cream cone I asked for and sprinkle it over the pistachio ice cream I got in a cup for myself. Hmm, pistachio somehow always has the ability to make me feel a little better. “I can’t say no.”
“Why not?”
“My father doesn’t take no for an answer.” Not from my mother. Not from his football players, and most certainly not from me.
Zoe’s eyes widen in surprise. “So you’re being forced to do it?”
“I am. And it gets better.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yeah. I’m supposed to tutor this guy during the break. He’s got an exam at the end of it, which will basically erase the failing grade in his final.”
“But it’s your break.”
“I know, but again, what I want doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t know how you can just go with it,” Zoe says, unable to understand the predicament I’m in. I don’t blame her though. Her parents are amazing and would never force her to do something against her will.
“I come here for free because Dad’s the coach. I can’t piss him off.”
“That makes sense. I just wish you didn’t have to do whatever he wanted you to.”
“Me too.” My phone vibrates on top of the table. I set down my spoon and pick it up to find an email from the Football Fool. Yes, that’s what I’m calling him.
“Speaking of tutoring, guess who I just got an email from?” I tell Zoe.
“Is it the football player?” she asks, rounding the table.
“Yup!”
“Read it,” she exclaims a little too excitedly as she sits next to me.
“Why are you so excited about this?” I ask.
“Don’t you read books like this? I read one—a long time ago—about the nerdy tutor and the hot foo
tball player.”
I’ve read a couple of those too, but that’s not what’s happening here. “Are you calling me nerdy?”
“I’m calling you a genius.”
“That’s better.”
“Stop stalling and open the message already. You know you’re dying to read it.”
I don’t think I am, but I don’t want to prolong my roommate’s suffering, so I read the message to her out loud.
Zoe’s mouth is hanging open. “Wow. He sounds like a…”
“Jerk?” I provide.
She nods. “Does he realize you’re doing him a favor?”
I glance down at his words. “I guess not.”
“He should be more grateful since you’re spending your time off teaching him.”
“Show me a grateful football player and I’ll pay for your ice cream.”
I know that’s a generalization. I’m talking about the ones who have no other goal aside from playing professional football.
“Jesse,” she says with a giant smile on her face—the same smile that appears whenever he’s around.
I roll my eyes. “Fine,” I give in. From the little time I’ve known Jesse, I know he’s different. It’s probably because he had to deal with some real things like his high school girlfriend passing away. He also doesn’t want to play football full-time, so I guess he doesn’t count in my definition of ungrateful football players.
“Ice cream tastes a lot better when it’s free. That was too easy.”
“Whatever,” I say, smiling. Getting to talk to Zoe about this all makes me feel a little relieved, like I don’t have to keep it all to myself.
“So, are you going to reply?” Zoe asks and I realize I still have the email open.
“Should I?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know what to respond with though. “What should I say?”
“I don’t know—something that shows him you value your time and he should too.”
I think about whether I should do what Zoe says or just play it safe and tell him I’m free on Saturday. Dad wants me to get him ready for the exam and eligible to play. Part of me knows I should just get this over with, but on the other hand, I could have a little fun with it.
ZACK
I wake up at the sound of my alarm and drag my ass out of bed. Before I so much as brush my teeth, I head over to the basement with my bag of dirty clothes.
When I walk down the stairs, it’s eerily quiet—too quiet for a house full of big ass dudes who tend to have girls with them. I know this silence is the result of practice—practice we have again this morning.
While I wait for my clothes to wash, I pack my work shirt into my bag. Practice ends at 9 AM today, but that’s followed up by a 12-hour shift for me. I groan at the thought of having to unpack boxes after getting the crap beaten out of me on the field. At least it isn’t work after a game. I usually avoid having those two things back-to-back.
Killing time before heading downstairs, I look through all the text messages that have come in. A couple are from my mom, but I’ll give her a call when I’m on my way to work later.
There are also a few from the group chat with the guys. Jesse and Zoe are apparently setting up something at the hospital and they want us to be a part of it. That chat has spiraled into thirty text messages of the guys calling Jesse whipped and also agreeing to attend. I gotta take a look at my work schedule for next few weeks before I can commit to anything.
Crap. Remembering the email I sent out yesterday, I scroll through the apps until I find the Mail icon. Opening it, I erase a few pointless emails that come through and open the one that really matters to me.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Too busy to pass?
Hi,
I also have a complicated schedule. Saturday does not work for me.
And yes, I’ll be assigning you work. When we meet, I’ll be checking it to make sure you’re actually learning. That’s … if we meet.
If you’re too busy for tutoring, let me know. I’m happy to inform the coach that you won’t be needing any help.
Best,
E.L.W.
What the hell? Whoever ELW is, they must have something stuck in the wrong place. Their email is way out of line. I get that Saturday is sort of a big ask, but that’s the only day I’m available. Also, assignments? I guess it makes sense that the tutor would test me to make sure I’m learning, but when the hell will I have time to get them done?
I linger on the last line, reading it over and over again. Is that a threat because it very much feels like one. Coach doesn’t need to be given any additional information. All he needs to know is that I’m taking this seriously.
Biting my tongue, I write what I should write and not what I want to say.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Too busy to pass? No.
E.L.W.,
I appreciate your willingness to help me. I don’t mean to be a pain when I talk to you about my schedule. The thing is, I have a few responsibilities outside of football and school. They take up time, which is partly why I didn’t fare so well in the class to begin with.
I understand the whole assignment thing. Would you like to send me the first one so when we do meet I have something to show you?
There’s no need to tell Coach anything. Let me know when you can meet and I’ll try and rework everything around that.
Best,
Hayes
Sending the email leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I don’t back down and cave to anyone, but in this case, it seems, I have no choice. I have to play nice until it all works out. Who knows? If they send me the assignment, I may be able to submit it via email and never have to meet with them in person. So what if it means re-learning biology on my own? I told Coach I didn’t need a tutor. All I need is time, and now without the pressure of four other classes, I can take more time to learn all about DNA and RNA.
I can do it all by myself.
With that new plan in mind, I grab my gym bag and head straight to the basement. I switch over my gear from the washer to the dryer then go back upstairs to find Chase.
“Heading to practice?” I ask.
“Where else would I be going at 6:30 in the morning?”
“You could be going to the gym with Colton,” I tell him. It’s fun poking the bear.
He shakes his head. “I’m not Colton, and he has practice too. We all do.”
“This is true,” I reply with a smile. “Can I get a ride with you?” The Athletics Center isn’t too far, so I usually walk, but I’m still exhausted from yesterday.
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
Chase, although broody and quiet, is a good guy too.
A few minutes later, with my dry uniform in my bag, I follow behind Chase. I’m assaulted with a blurry memory of the beautiful girl in the red dress. I don’t know what triggers it, but I wish I had a better memory because I suspect she’ll bother me for a very long time.
11
ZACK
After practice ends, I head to the bus stop. Lowering the cap on my head, I look around anxiously, unwilling to be caught taking public transportation. I can’t remember the last time any of my classmates took the bus, but there is always a possibility.
The bus arrives and I sit down, shifting uncomfortably with each pothole the bus runs over. My whole body feels sore and I know that once I get out of work tonight and hit my bed, I won’t want to get back up again for days.
Out of habit, I take my phone out of my pocket to call Mom. When I unlock it though, my fingers take me to the notification in my inbox.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: That was harsh
I apologize for yesterday’s email. I wasn’t having the best of days and I took it out on you. I hate wasting my t
ime. Tutoring you wasn’t something I signed up for—it was something that was thrust upon me. I shouldn’t blame you for it, but it’s hard not to.
I can meet with you on Saturday. We can talk about how you wanna tackle the exam then. Does a particular time work for you?
P.S. Don’t worry. I won’t threaten to tell Coach on you again.
Best,
E.L.W.
Wow. I was not expecting an email like this. I can definitely tell it’s a girl now with the way her mood changes with each day. I think about how to respond then start typing.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Wow, unexpected.
I don’t know much about you, but I definitely did not peg you for the type to take back the things you’ve said. I’m glad I was wrong though.
I’m good to meet whenever you want on Saturday. You’re the one being forced to tutor me after all. The least I can do is make it as painless as I can.
Thanks for not telling Coach on me.
Two questions:
1. Are you a girl? I have a feeling you’re a girl.
2. Can I have your phone number? It’d make it easier to set up future meetings.
Actually, it’s three questions. You keep signing E.L.W. Could you tell me what at least one of those letters stands for? It would be a lot easier for me to refer to you by name.
Bragan Boys (Bragan University Boxset) Page 43
