Page 25 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

She snaps a picture of the tutoring schedule before tapping on her phone and walking away.

I know this is going to come back to bite me, but I don’t care. I solved more than one math problem, and I didn’t even need to look at the answers.

Maybe Dr. Harrington was right. Professor Drivels can eat his own shoes. I’m going to pass College Algebra, and I’m going to do it with flying colors.

* * *

I go through the rest of the week keeping my eyes peeled for attacks from the bitch squad. The rest of my classes are going well. After my next algebra class, Professor Drivels pulled me aside, my latest assignment in his meaty grasp.

“Miss Miller, did you cheat on your last homework assignment?” He eyes me suspiciously.

I scoff. “No, sir. I’ve been attending tutoring.”

“Missing three or four problems and showing correct work on everything is quite the improvement from all of your work being wrong and only half of your answers being right.” He raises one eyebrow, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Be honest. Someone else did this for you. I’ll only take off half points if you confess.”

“No one did that for me. I did it all myself.” I cross my arms and glare at the dumpy professor. “Cameron Jones is my tutor. You can ask him yourself. I hear he’s all the rage in the math department.”

He gives me one more suspicious look before setting my paper down and huffing. “Very well. We’ll see if this improvement sticks. We have a test coming up, and if you pass that, I’ll admit that you might actually be learning something.”

I give him a smug smile, but his next words quickly wipe it off my face.

“I guess all it takes for you to learn is a pretty face. I’m sorry that you can’t pay close enough attention in class to avoid having a tutor. Maybe I’ll get Mr. Jones to come in and teach a lesson or two.”

It takes every ounce of willpower in my body to not slap the ever-loving shit out of this smelly piece of garbage. I clench and unclench my fist and give him a tight smile.

“Well… if that’s all, professor,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ll see you next class.”

I whirl around and speedwalk out of class.

Cameron

I’ve been thinking about the bruise on Violet’s face all week. But she didn’t say anything, so neither did I.

I forced all of my concentration into the material and getting her to understand it. I have a feeling that no one has really ever explained the why when trying to teach her. They probably just put problems in front of her and expected her to just get it.

I’m not under the impression that math comes easily to everyone. I know there’s a mental hurdle some people have to get over to be able to grasp even a small understanding of it, and Violet’s mental hurdle isn’t small. From the amount of confidence she has and the amount of questions she asked, it’s obvious that people have told her she couldn’t do it her whole life.

My patience and willingness to explain the why we solve problems the way we do is probably why I’m considered the number one math tutor at Fox University. I don’t take on many students, I can’t with my grueling basketball schedule, but my pass conversion rate is one hundred percent.

The dark circle on her cheek flashes back through my mind and I clench my fists. I should have asked about it. But what’s done is done. If it’s still there tomorrow during our tutoring session I’ll ask her.

I shoot Oscar a text asking him if he wants to shoot hoops after dinner. He quickly agrees. Since the semester is well underway now, we don’t get to hang out as much as we used to, and it’s been a while since we hit the court together.

I tried to convince him to try out for the team with me, but he’s a man of many talents, and hockey seems to be his true calling.

And you won’t catch me dead on the ice.

We meet up in the cafeteria, and eat a light dinner. We try not to stuff ourselves before exercising.

I spot Violet laughing at something a tall dark headed girl says. They leave the dining hall as soon as we sit down to eat.

We make quick work of our meal and head to the recreational courts outside. We shoot around for a while before playing a quick one-on-one match to twenty.

I make quick work of my friend. He’s rusty. It’s all that time with a flat disc and a stick and not enough time with a real ball.

I’m not knocking his talent, though.

Hockey is a tough sport, having to be coordinated enough to hit the puck while moving at high speeds, all while avoiding other huge dudes who are also trying to hit the same puck into a net that’s constantly guarded by someone… It’s a miracle Oscar gets up everyday.

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