by R. M. Garcia
“Bye Ronnie,” Abbie said smiling as she waved at Donnie moments before she exited the library.
“Donnie . . .” he said in a barely audible tone, and just as quick as she had come into the library, she was gone. Only now did he realize that he had stopped breathing as he had been transfixed on her.
Donnie waited until she was gone and then looked at Mr. Simmons and excitedly asked, “Does she tutor history?” Mr. Simmons burst into laughter, disturbing other students in the library. Once he got a hold of himself, he answered.
“Yes, I believe she does,” he said with a big grin on his face. Donnie smiled and nodded.
“Guess I should try some tutoring. What do you think?” he asked, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.
“Well, on one side, I don’t know how well tutoring with her would improve your concentration. On the other hand . . .” Mr. Simmons paused.
“What?”
“She’s a no-nonsense teacher. She works for her money, and if you’re not there to learn, she will drop you like a dirty diaper in the trash.”
“Seriously, you use poop as an example?”
“All I am saying is that if you ask her to tutor you, be earnest about it. She’s a serious, disciplined, and determined young lady, and she doesn’t have time for games,” he explained. “If you want to ask her out, don’t use tutoring to trick her into it. A number of other boys have tried the same approach, and she shut them down.”
“So . . . what you’re telling me is that she isn’t seeing anyone . . . Excellent!”
Mr. Simmons let out a very audible sigh and shook his head. He did his best to imitate an Oriental accent. “Donnie-san, you must concentrate and focus power.”
“Yeah, yeah, please, no more eighties movie inspirational quotes. Next you’ll be all breathing heavy and be like Donnie . . . use the farts, Donnie,” he replied. “Man, you are such a fanboy!”
“Never be ashamed of who you are, and yes, I am. I have to say fanboy sounds a lot better than nerd any day. Now back to the book slacker. You still owe me ten minutes of study hall time.” With an audible sigh of his own, Donnie went back to reading, still utterly distracted by the lingering scent of apples in the room.
“Thanks, Mom, and thanks, Yowa. I think I’m no longer lost. I think you’ve shown me the light to find my loved one.”
CHAPTER 3
Friends
AS SOON AS his mandatory study hour was over, Donnie left the school campus. There was no practice today, so he didn’t need to stay after school. He debated whether to hit the gym for a few hours or to do some running before going back home. Lately he had dreaded going home. The house felt so empty; he had kept it the same condition, and now it seemed more like a museum than a home. The next day Donnie awoke with a spring in his step. He had an important task ahead, but first he needed to do some research. He had no idea how to go about getting a tutor, much less getting Abbie as his tutor, but he proceeded undeterred and went into the main school office and looked around.
“Can we help you, Donnie?” Ms. Jones asked a bit nervously. Julie Jones was the vice principal of the school. She was a tall professional-looking woman who always dressed in business attire. Her long auburn hair was eternally tied up in a bun. Donnie’s heart rode up into his throat. He had the misfortune of being dragged to a rave a few months ago and encountered the vice principal partying inside. Donnie was of course way underage, and Ms. Jones, well, was exhibiting a completely different side of her persona, and her choice of attire that evening had been a bit more risqué.
“I need a tutor . . .” he said after swallowing. The images of her in that skimpy, two sizes too small outfit, came rushing back into his mind.
Ms. Jones smiled at Donnie. “I can help you with that. Please step into my office,” and she gestured the way to her office. Donnie’s first instinct was to turn around and run out of the office. He had already come up with over a dozen excuses why he needed to leave this instance, but he needed that information. With a heavy sigh, he walked into the vice principal’s office. She said after closing the door to her office behind them, “Please take a seat, Donnie.” He walked over to the chair that was in front of her large mahogany desk. He tried not to stare at her as she took her seat. Instead he looked over the impressive number of diplomas and certificates that adorned her office walls. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see you again until graduation,” she said with a forced smile.
“Me too,” he replied with an uneasy smile. He knew right away what she was getting at.
“OK, just like we agreed, I don’t tell your social worker that you were in an adult club, and you don’t say anything about me being at that rave, understood?” Her tone and stare was revealing, and he knew right away that she was just as scared as him over the whole ordeal. Only four more months and both of them wouldn’t need worry about it ever again.
“Yeah, I know. I haven’t told anyone. I swear . . .” he answered, doing his best to conceal the lie. He had indeed discussed it with one other person.
Ms. Jones leaned back into her chair and relaxed a bit. “Very good, now for your question, you just need to go to the school Web site and select your course under the assistance drop down. Once there, it will generate a list of the available tutors, their rates, and times they have available to teach.” She knew the information by heart, and Donnie would have expected no less as she had after all been the web designer of the page.
Donnie rose and smiled. “Thanks, Ms. Jones.” He left the office and tried not to look distressed as he exited the office. A short jog later, he had reached the back of the building and proceeded outside. There was a spot near the rear of the schoolyard in which he would often relax; it was peaceful and somewhat secluded. He sat down on the old bench that was out there. At some point in time, the seat had been moved out here for some unknown reason and most likely forgotten. Donnie pulled out his smart phone and started up its web browser. He stared intently into the device and began searching the school’s Web site just as Ms. Jones had explained. There was indeed a chart on the Web site. Each tutor had their rates and available times clearly listed. Abbie’s name was there of course, and she had times open on Sundays and Wednesdays. It would have to do. Using all of his concentration, he quickly signed up for both sessions as if he had been in a race that he was about to lose, as if someone else were looking for the same class and wanted the same tutor as him. Once he was done and had booked and paid for the classes, he let out a long sigh of relief.
“Tutoring with Abbie, huh?” Misha asked, startling Donnie, so much so that he almost dropped his phone. He had been oblivious to the fact that his friend had walked up behind him and was secretly looking over his shoulder.
“Respect my personal space, man!” he yelled as he realized that his friend had been standing over him the whole time. Misha had the looks that the ladies loved. He was simply beautiful to gaze upon. To think that someone like him was simply born and not genetically created in some weird model experiment was hard to believe. He commanded the undivided attention of many girls and several boys at the school. He was tall, slightly over six feet tall, and would probably grow a few more inches before the year was done. His sandy brown hair was kept at a medium length, short enough to be easily managed but just long enough so that his natural curls would show. His reputation as a womanizer was quite well known. His usual patterns consisted of dating a girl for a few weeks, seduce her, and then move onto the next conquest. There was even a rumor that he had slept with a teacher or two, though he would never admit to it. In many respects, his fellow students considered him shallow, but Donnie knew he was much deeper than his many trysts exhibited. Through his dark times, Misha had been the only one of his friends that persisted on bringing him back to life. That side of him, the soft caring side, he kept hidden to most everyone.
“That is going to be a tough nut to crack, Donnie,” he announced. “I tried the tutoring angle on her nine months ago, and it didn’t work. I really think
she is gay, man.”
“What!” Donnie felt like he had just been kicked in the stomach. “You really think so?”
Misha sat down next to Donnie on the bench. His butt began to feel cold right away, and he wondered how Donnie was never bothered by the cold. “Yeah, buddy, I mean the fact that she turned me down isn’t why I think that. I have not seen her date anyone in the almost four years she has been here.”
Donnie excitement began to fade from his face. “Really, how the heck do you know all this?” Misha produced his phone and showed Donnie an app he had downloaded.
“It’s called ‘S.C.O.R.E.’ pad. It helps you track any and all women you may be interested in,” he said as he began sliding his finger across the touch screen. He continued, “It tracks who they have dated before you, how long, favorite things to do and eat.”
Donnie looked at Misha in disbelief. “Dude, seriously? Where the hell did you get that?”
Misha smiled and said, “www.donthatetheplaya.net” and paused to let it sink in to Donnie’s head. Then he added, “Once you input information about a girl, it gets updated to their database and shared to other app users.”
Donnie let out a grunt of disgust, “You’re despicable.” He was about to continue to belittle his friend when he was interrupted.
“And here is Abbie,” Misha said, turning the phone around.
Donnie looked away and said, “Not . . . interested.” He was actually getting angry. He shouldn’t have been surprised; it was classic Misha. Regardless he did little to hide the anger in his tone.
“Eighteen guys have asked her out, and she has not accepted any dates,” he said. Then he continued, “She is always with her best friend Kelly, and it says that she enjoys . . .”
“Enough!” Donnie yelled. “I don’t want to know! I think that app is disgusting. I know that you’re a dog, but this is truly beneath you. You’re way better than this.” Donnie’s tone switched from anger to true disappointment. “What if, she just has strict parents? That could be the case too, right?”
“Yeah, could be,” he agreed and added, “even then, you still aren’t going to be able to date her.”
“Well, then I guess I’m just stuck then. I already paid for the classes with my PayPal account.”
“Ouch! How many did you buy?”
“I got ten one-hour sessions.”
“Double ouch!”
“No worries. I need help in history anyway, and Mr. S said that she was a really good tutor.”
“Make the best of it then,” Misha continued to fiddle with his app and then looked up. “Hey, you should go out with Misty Billings.”
“Why would I want to do that?” he asked apprehensively.
“She is way hot, and she likes basketball, and she’s into Latin guys, and she likes kung fu flicks.” Misha continued to read the interests of Misty, and Donnie began to appreciate the possibilities. Maybe the app wasn’t so bad.
“She sounds interesting so far,” he said more appreciatively.
“Plus she puts out 95 percent of the time on the first date!” Misha said triumphantly.
“I am looking for a nice girl you perv, a girl my mom would have approved of,” Donnie sneered at Misha. “I don’t care for easy.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll ask her out then. Can I borrow the thirty-sixth Chamber of Shaolin?”
“Yeah, sure, though I should say no.”
“I’ll look for a nicer girl in here for you,” Misha promised.
“Leave it alone for now, all right?” he asked. “Man, I hate it when Mr. S is right.”
“Oh, what did Captain Degree tell you this time?”
“He told me not to tutor with Abbie just to date her, and I should have listened.”
“Hell, I could have told you that.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy.” Donnie did little to hide how annoyed he was.
“Hey, don’t worry. We will get you a girl yet,” Misha assured. Then he added, “Can’t go to prom alone. I will make it my personal challenge to find you a girl.” Donnie smiled at Misha’s enthusiasm. It was all he could talk about for the last year. How epic prom was going to be. Donnie still felt a bit of disappointment over the ordeal but decided to get the prospect of dating Abbie out his mind. He would instead concentrate on the tutoring and pass the course, graduate, and be free from the court system forever. With that, he had made up his mind. He would focus on the tutoring.
“Hey, you didn’t put what I told you about Ms. Jones in that thing, did you?”
“Uh, well . . .” Misha squirmed with embarrassment. Donnie knew right away that the answer was undeniably yes.
“You didn’t! I am going to kill you!”
“Gotta go!” he said as he took off running across the schoolyard. Donnie started chasing him with the clear intention of giving him a few well-deserved blows, but Misha was surprisingly fast.
Across the campus, an e-mail was sent to a phone. Abbie pulled her phone out of her purse and read the e-mail. “Hey, I got a new student,” she declared among a group of friends.
“More money for college. That’s always good,” Kelly responded. Kelly Monroe was the head cheerleader and during sport seasons was barely seen out of her various cheering outfits. She had wavy brown hair and was very attractive and popular. Her sunny and positive personality came across in virtually everything she did. “What course and who is it?”
“I hope he’s cute,” Rebecca said slightly leaning forward, trying to get a glimpse of Abbie’s phone. Rebecca was a freshman and Kelly’s younger sister. It was very apparent that the two were siblings as their looks were nearly identical except that Rebecca had vibrant red hair.
“Donnie Guerrero and looks like he needs tutoring in history,” Abbie informed and added, “a lot of help it seems. He signed up for ten sessions and paid in full.”
“Is he the Donnie that is dating Shana?” Kelly asked.
“No, that’s Don Green. This is the somber one that hangs out with that jackass,” Trista answered. Trista Rogers was a tall slender girl. She had long straight black hair. It seemed odd to the others that she would mention that about Donnie as she herself rarely smiled. She often wore dark clothing and was considered by her friends to be Goth, although she always denied it.
“Donnie is so yummy,” Rebecca added.
“Ten sessions at twenty-five dollars a pop, I smell a rat,” Trista said suspiciously.
“I don’t know,” Abbie replied. “He has been in study hall a lot.”
“Plus, he is nothing like his friend Misha,” Kelly advised.
“Misha is yummier,” Rebecca replied in a somewhat dreamlike state.
“And a complete dog,” Trista added.
“What I mean is that Donnie really hasn’t dated anyone this year,” Kelly advised.
“Been keeping track?” Trista asked.
“No, I just noticed that when he leaves from practice. He is always alone,” Kelly answered.
“Maybe he’s gay,” Trista added.
“No way!” Rebecca said, snapping out of her trance. Then she added, “That would be a geek travesty.”
“You’re such an airhead.” Trista never held back against Rebecca. She simply hated how boy crazy she was.
“Leave her alone, Trista,” Kelly said, defending her sister. “I can remember when you acted the very same way for . . .”
“The phrase is Greek tragedy, Becca,” Abbie said interrupting Kelly.
“I don’t think he is gay,” Kelly announced. “I heard he had some bad things happen to him this year.”
Trista suddenly remembered. “I did see him at the courthouse a few weeks back.”
“Trouble with the law, maybe he’s a bad boy,” Rebecca said excitedly.
“Down, girl!” Kelly ordered.
“I have an idea. I can go ask Misha about Donnie,” Rebecca suggested.
“No!” Kelly, Trista, and Abbie all said simultaneously.
“You stay away from that
dog. He will only hurt you, Becca,” Trista confessed. She drifted off for a moment as a sad look came over her face. “I learned that the hard way.”
“Oh,” Rebecca said apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s ancient history now and long since forgotten, so don’t worry about it,” Trista assured. She added, “As long as he keeps his fangs out of you, my work will be done.”
“Why was he in court?” Kelly asked Trista.
“I’m not sure. He was there with Mr. Rollins, one of the senior partners at my dad’s firm, and before you ask, Becca, I was meeting my dad for lunch. He just looked so sad. I felt really sorry for him.”
“Well, I will know soon enough if he is gay or not,” Abbie replied. “But just in case, I’ll make it perfectly clear that I don’t date anyone I tutor.”
“You have to actually start dating someone first to make that threat credible,” Trista snipped, and all the girls all burst into laughter at Abbie’s expense.
“I need a lot of money for housing,” Abbie defended. “My parents just can’t afford all the bills I will have away from home. I just can’t take any time away from my tutoring jobs. So I have no time for boys, period.”
“Well, at least you’ll have the money to buy your prom dress now,” Kelly pointed out.
“Kelly’s dress is so slutty,” Rebecca informed.
“It is not!” Kelly looked menacingly at her little sister.
“Is too, your boobs just hang out, and if you bend over, you can see everything,” Rebecca said in a matter-of-fact way.
“Well, that sounds perfect!” Trista defended.
“Thanks, Trista,” Kelly replied. “I . . .”
“For a hooker,” Trista said evilly interrupting Kelly. Once again, the girls burst into laughter, while Kelly was left dumbfounded.
“You bitch!” Kelly yelled and threw a banana peel at Trista.
“Not sure if I will get to go to prom anyway,” Abbie replied.
