Page 2 of Tutor With Benefits

It’s not the first time I’ve heard this speech, and I hope to God it’s the last. I’m about ready to put a pen in my eye over this, but I maintain composure as she continues. Of course, I do have a cocky smirk on my face.

“I know the three of you eat, breathe, and live hockey,” she continues. “And unfortunately, you can’t focus all your energy on that. I have already spoken with your coach, and unless you bring up your grades by midterms, you will be sitting out the rest of the season.”

“What!”

“You can’t do that!”

“That’s not fair!”

The three of us speak at once, and she holds up her hand to quiet us.

“I already spoke to your coach, as I said, and he is in full agreement,” she repeats.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” I demand. “It’s not like reading the book for the hundredth time is going to make things click in my head!”

“I suggest you find someone to help tutor you if you are struggling,” Professor Hudson replies. “And considering where your grades are sitting, you are all struggling.”

“Professor, you have to understand, hockey is the reason we’re here. Not chemistry. Who really cares about that anyway?” Cory asks

“A lot of people, and like I said already, you already knew when you came to the University of Minnesota, you have to maintain your grades across the board if you’re planning to participate in the extra curriculars.”

“But hockey’s not—” I start, but once again I’m silenced with her hand.

“I have said all I’m going to say on the matter,” she replies. “Three weeks, gentlemen, and I want to see a marked improvement in your grades. I have faith in all of you. It’s not rocket science. It’s chemistry. You’re all smart, and you can do it if you just apply yourselves.”

She gives us one of her toothy smiles, and any sexual attraction I may have had for her vanishes.

“You are dismissed,” she tells us. “Have a great afternoon.”

I fight the urge to flip her off on our way out the door, and it’s not long before we’re at each other’s throats over who is to take the blame for what’s happening with our grades.

The halls are full of students milling about, most of us on our way to lunch in one form or another. There are those who eat at the school in the cafeteria, and there are those who run off campus to grab something in one of the nearby stores. For the most part, the three of us always head to the cafeteria. It’s part of the tuition we have, so why not make the most of it?

Gives us more money for partying later.

“If you hadn’t insisted we all get together to play that fucking game the entire weekend before the test, we might have managed to at least get a passing grade,” Taylor shoots at Cory.

“Oh, like this is my fault? I don’t remember saying that you had to join the team. I just said that if you wanted to have any cut of the win, then you better make sure your ass is on the team when we play, that’s all,” he says with a shrug. “Aren’t you the one who made us go to each of those fucking sorority parties all last month?”

Cory replies to Taylor, but then he directs the question at me, as if it’s my fault.

I push my way past a student who’s standing a bit too close to where I’m walking. He gives me a look, but backs off without saying anything. That’s how it always is with anyone who tries to get smart with me. I know who I am, and I’m never in the mood to be called out for anything.

Even by my two best friends.

“I know you’re not implying that your shit grades are my fault in any way,” I tell both of them. “You are your own men. If you decide you’re not going to study or do whatever to make sure you pass this fucking class, that’s on you, not me.”

“So what’s your excuse?” Taylor asks. “If you’re so good at managing your time and passing the class, why are your grades shit like ours?”

“Fuck off,” I tell him.

I don’t know what to say, really. I’m not about to admit to him, or Cory either, that I don’t understand shit about chemistry, and the fact that the damn book just says things as though we do know what it’s talking about isn’t helping my case.

Or my mood, for that matter.

“Do you really think she talked to Coach?” Cory asks. “Doesn’t sound like the kind of thing Coach would agree to. Benching us for the rest of the season, I mean.”

“I don’t know. My old man says that this school is really strict when it comes to who they let stay on the sports teams, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he did agree to doing it. But I bet he’s not happy about it either,” Taylor volunteers.

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