Page 27 of The Surprise Play
He shakes his head. “I already gave him one, and he chose to waste it. I’m not repeating that mistake.”
“Please, sir. I’ll make sure he’s organized this time.”
He huffs and gives me a stern frown. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because…” My right shoulder rises as I scramble for the right words. “Because he wants to graduate. And he can’t do that unless he passes your class.”
“And all the courses this semester.”
“I can help him with that.”
The man’s face buckles. “I don’t even know why you want to. He doesn’t want to be here. He looks so bored in class, it’s obvious he’s not listening.”
“Because he doesn’t always understand what he’s hearing. It’s hard to concentrate when you feel completely lost.”
He clenches his jaw, and I hold my breath, studying that ticking muscle on his face. He shuffles forward, resting his forearms on his desk and grumbling, “The NFL will probably draft him anyway.”
“That’s not the point.” I take another step forward and have to wonder why I’m fighting for this football player. I must be out of my mind. “Sir, he deserves to graduate. He’s spent four years?—”
“Not doing his own work, by the looks of things.”
“He’ll do this assignment. I promise you.” Threading my fingers together, I hold them up by my chin. “Please, just give him a chance.”
The professor sighs, mumbling something about irritating jocks.
I press my lips together, squashing my smile.
He’s right. Jocks are irritating, yet I’m going to bat for this one.
Why does that feel good?
And why do I want to clap my hands and celebrate when Professor Pilscher finally says, “Fine. You have until the end of the week.”
“And the weekend?” I cross my fingers. “Please, let him have until Monday. That’s still only five days, and he’s gonna need every one of them.”
The professor snickers and gives me a hard look. “8 a.m. Friday. It better be on this desk.”
I deflate just a little. That timeframe is so tight!
But I’ll take what I can get.
With a nod, I say, “It will be, sir. Thanks for… giving him a chance.”
“Don’t make me regret it.” He points at me, then indicates the door behind me.
I bob a curtsy, because I’m weird that way, before spinning out the door with an elated smile.
Why?
Why am I so elated?
I shouldn’t be triumphant. I’ve just sentenced myself to a week of high stress while I try to tutor this giant who doesn’t think he’s smart enough to get it.
Because you’re going to prove to him that he is. And that part will feel amazing.
With a nervous titter, I tuck myself against the corridor wall and pull out my phone.
Bringing up Wily’s number, I stare at it, chewing on my lip before pressing the green Call button and instantly wondering why I didn’t just text.
