Page 21 of The Trade

My attempt to express my thoughts has resulted in an unfathomable sea of words, and I’m drowning without my usual tutor. The syntax, grammar, and overall sentence structure—they’re all a mess. The one salvation I’ve managed is ensuring my sources have been cited correctly this time.

At least, I think I did them correctly.

My gaze lands on Jade as her eyes skitter across my laptop screen. She takes a thoughtful pause, rhythmically tapping her pen against the table’s surface.

“Theo,” she starts with a reassuring smile. “You’ve got some fantastic ideas here. Your writing mechanics, however, could use a little bit of polishing.”

“West,” I correct her yet again. “And yeah, I’m listening. Go ahead.”

“Alright, here.” She extends her hand, her finger landing on the first paragraph on the screen. “This sentence is a run-on. You’ve got two distinct ideas here, jammed together. You’ve attempted to link them with commas, but now you’ve created a comma splice.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Correct,” she says. “You want to separate those sentences into two independent clauses.”

“Okay, so just replace the comma with a period, then?”

“You could technically do that, but you’d still have two separate ideas here. You could always split up the sentence and then move the second half down further in the paragraph.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “That makes sense.”

She pushes the laptop toward me. “Do you want to try to fix up your intro, and then we can go over it together?”

“I can handle the actual editing part later,” I say, waving her off.

She gives me a small, uncertain nod, drawing the laptop back toward her. Her gaze darts across the screen, critically evaluating the rest of the paragraph. “Right here in this section” —she points out, her finger hovering over the concluding sentences—“the definition of your thesis isn’t clear enough. I get the gist of what you’re aiming for, but it needs tightening.”

“Alright,” I say, making a mental note of it.

“You might want to consider eliminating this portion and weaving it into your final sentence.”

“Got it.”

She pushes the laptop back my way. “Here, why don’t you try it out?”

“No, really, I’ll remember your feedback and implement it later,” I reassure her, pushing back gently.

“But it’d be a lot easier if you just edit as we go.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got this.”

“Theo,” she presses on, concern lacing her voice. “This will just simplify the process for both of us.”

“I said I’ve got it,” I snap, my tone sharper than intended. “I can damn well remember your pointers outside of these four walls.”

“Okay,” she says, nostrils flaring in a silent display of frustration. “That’s your choice, then, but I think I should probably leave.”

Rising with deliberation from her chair, she hoists her backpack over one shoulder, her posture rigid. Her head is tilted downward, a few rebellious curls falling forward to partially obscure her face.

Jesus Christ. Why is it that I’m always putting my foot in my goddamn mouth around this girl?

“Wait, Jade,” I call out, reaching out to gently hold her wrist, desperation coloring my tone. “I didn’t mean to snap. Please, don’t go.”

Her gaze drops to my hand, confusion evident as she stammers, “I—I don’t understand. Do you want my help or not?”

“Yes, I do, I truly do,” I rush to say. “I actuallyneedyour help.”

“Then why aren’t you following my advice?”

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