“Are you serious?” My words are a breathy whisper now. I can’t believe this.
“Yes. I mean, I’m not going to do the assignment for you, but I can help you plan out the essay, and we’ll write it together. I’ll make sure the work is mostly your thoughts and ideas. I can just help you with some of the wording. I promised the professor it will beyourwork. But I’ll walk you through it, you know? I reread the book over the weekend to refresh my memory and?—”
“Wait, you reread the book?”
She hesitates before responding with a confused “Yeah?” like it’s the most obvious thing she would have spent her weekend doing.
I shake my head, still trying to wrap my brain around this while also keeping Zoey still on my knee. She’s bouncing like a basketball, giggling and trying to get my attention back. But it’s not going to happen, because I have to know…
“Why?” I rasp.
Satch sighs. “I don’t know, to be honest. I guess I just couldn’t get that look on your face out of my head. You weren’t angry with me the other day, you were frustrated that you might not be able to graduate. And I want to help you do that. But only if you’re willing to put in the work.”
Holy shit.
I don’t know if anyone has ever seen me that way before.
“Zoey! Where are you, kiddo?” Sienna’s voice wafts down the hallway.
Zoey jumps up, running around the couch with a fabric ball in each hand shouting, “Ting, ting, Mommy!” as she throws her “weapons.”
“Bop! Bop!” Sienna laughs back, batting them away before grabbing Zoey around the waist and hoisting her up. “Time to get ready for playgroup.”
Zoey gasps. “Dayton?”
“That’s right.”
The little girl claps her hands, then waves goodbye to me, blowing me kisses. I catch one, then blow another back, and her giggles disappear down the hallway.
“So, Wily, are you… willing to put in the work?” Satch asks, tone all serious.
I swallow, running a hand through my hair.
How can I say no?
She spent her weekend reading a boring-ass book for me. She went and saw a grumpy-ass professor for me.
I can’t reject that kind of effort.
So, as much I really don’t want to work on another fucking essay about white whales and whatever other shit went down, I find myself saying, “Yeah. I’ll do it.”
“Okay, then.” Her voice brightens. “What time are you free to meet?”
“Since I don’t have practice this afternoon, I guess I’ll have to say today.”
“Cool. And do you want to meet in the library or…? We just need a space that’s distraction-free, so wherever that is for you.”
Distraction-free. I brush a finger across my bottom lip. “My room will work. It’ll be quiet, and no one will bewalking past the table trying to talk to me. It should be distraction-free, unless Zoey’s on the loose and doesn’t mind breaking the rules.” I laugh.
“Your… room?” she squeaks. “Uh… okay. So, you’re not in a dorm, I’m guessing.”
“No, I’m at Football Frat.”
“Football what?”
“You haven’t heard of…?”Seriously? Has she been living under a rock?
“Foobawl!” Zoey shouts as she runs down the hallway, pulling on her winter coat. “Foooobawl.”