Page 44 of Mine to Take

Well, hell.

That means I’m going to be here for a while.

I force myself farther inside the small space before dropping down onto the chair.

I just want to get this over with and move on with my life.

Coach steeples his fingers in front of him. “I spoke with Dr. Linstrom this afternoon.”

Yep, hit the nail on the head.

English.

“Apparently, you didn’t do so well on the last paper, and it’s dropped your overall grade to a C minus in the class.”

I shift as shame and embarrassment crash over me. English has always been a challenging subject. Anything with a lot of text to digest makes me feel like I’m drowning. It’s the worst feeling in the world.

If I thought it would get better after high school, I was wrong.

There’s even more reading in college.

More comprehending and synthesizing of information, all the while trying to make sense of it.

It’s fucking exhausting.

If Coach is aware of my dyslexia diagnosis, he’s never mentioned it. And that’s exactly the way I want to keep it.

It’s no one’s business but my own.

When he stares at me expectantly, as if waiting for an explanation, I mumble, “I’m working on getting it up.”

“You’re right on the cusp. Anything lower and you’ll be academically ineligible to play. I’d hate to see that happen with playoffs coming up.”

Tension fills my muscles as his gaze stays pinned to mine. I get the feeling this conversation isn’t going to end with a simple “work harder” speech the way I’d anticipated.

“Dr. Linstrom was kind enough to reach out to the tutoring center on campus and secure a student for you to meet with to help get this grade up. Your first session is scheduled for six sharp tomorrow after practice at the library.”

That’s definitely not what I wanted to hear.

He rips off a sheet of paper from a notebook before handing it over. I have no choice but to reach out and accept it. Everything sinks inside me like a heavy stone as the name and number blur before my eyes.

I really hate working with tutors.

And student ones are the fucking worst.

Like I need randoms all up in my business spreading gossip about me?

Fuck no.

Even if I don’t disclose my learning disability, it doesn’t take long before they figure out that there’s something wrong. Their demeanor will change and they’ll treat me like I’m in elementary school.

“Is that really necessary?” Heat stains my cheeks as I mumble the question. “I can do it on my own.”

“Yeah, I think it is,” he says with a heavy sigh. “As soon as you have a solid B in the course, you can drop the tutoring.”

My mouth tumbles open and my eyes widen. “Seriously?”

Does he realize how impossible that is?

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