Page 89 of Tutoring Mr. Hotshot

“We just wanted to apologize for being assholes before. It’s not that we hated you or anything. Liam told us we wouldn’t get playtime if we didn’t go along with what he said.”

I nod as though I understand what they’re talking about. I mean, I have some idea.

What I don’t understand is why they’re telling me this.

“OK. Thanks, I guess.”

A different guy speaks up next. “We don’t want any trouble. I hope we can let bygones be bygones.”

I nod. “Sure. Whatever. I really need to get to class though.”

The group splits down the middle to let me pass. I pivot my head side to side, watching to make sure this isn’t a trap.

I’m past them when I hear one whisper, “Do you think he’ll tell them we apologized? I don’t want to end up like Liam.”

“Shhhh! Don’t mention him. It might be bad luck.”

Before I can turn to ask what the heck they’re talking about, they break into a jog across the grass. It’s almost like the group wants to get away from me as quickly as possible.

The rest of the day goes about the same. It’s like there’s some kind of force field around me preventing anyone from getting close, or in some cases, acknowledging me at all.

My phone rings as I’m getting out of class. It’s an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Rodney Merry?” asks a deep male voice.

“Yes. May I ask who this is?”

The man laughs. “My name is Hollis. I’m with campus police. Can you come by to sign off on the submitted paperwork? We’d like to get the decision finalized today.”

“Um, yeah. Sure. I’ll be right over.”

I’d question what paperwork he means, but I have a good idea. This is about Liam. Andry must have turned everything in while I was resting at home.

The campus police office is busy when I step through the door. People move around the space with familiarity as they chat loudly with one another.

“I’m here to see Hollis,” I tell the man sitting at what appears to be a reception desk. Or maybe it’s a regular desk, and I’m about to look like an idiot. Honestly, I’m not sure.

“Yo, Hollis!” the guy shouts.

A few heads turn, but it’s one in particular that gets my attention. He’s nothing like I expect a campus police officer to look like. Model-like features give off the vibes of someone who should be at a photoshoot on a beach rather than in a uniform at a small college.

It’s hard not to stare when his face is the perfect kind of symmetrical. I’m no artist, yet even I notice.

“Rodney?”

I nod. “And you’re Hollis?”

Dumb question. Of course he is.

“Yeah, that’s me. Come to my desk, and we’ll wrap this up.”

We move to a space set aside from the rest of the room. It’s almost like he holds some kind of authority, but I can tell by the back slaps and waves the others throw his way that he’s also part of the team too.

This man is well liked.

“Have a seat for me, Rodney.” He points to the empty chair beside his desk.

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