Page 53 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

I asked him if I could have a chance to retake it, and he just said no.

So I leave his class like I usually do. Annoyed and ready to punch someone.

Cameron promises that we’ll study hard and I’ll pass the final with flying colors… If I promise to bring my dad to a game.

After he woke up, he and Dad talked basketball until Mom dragged him out of the room because “she’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and she was going to sleep in her own bed, dammit.”

True to his word, Cameron doesn’t let me have any fun during our study sessions. We focus hard on the stuff I didn’t understand well while I was out recuperating, and true to my word, I bring Dad to the last game before Christmas break.

I’ve never seen my father so giddy while watching basketball. Oh, he yelled at the officials and hooped and hollered with the rest of the crowd, but when the game was over, he was practically glowing.

“It’s art, Violet. That boy is an artist!”

Needless to say, there will be an extra seat at our table for Christmas dinner.

* * *

It’s finally time for finals.

I turn in all my final projects and take the few paper finals expected of me. I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried when I’m not the last person to finish the College Algebra test, but I leave the room feeling a tad lighter than I did going into it.

Dr. Harrington emails me, requesting to meet in her office.

When I get there, she comes around the desk and gives me a light squeeze.

“This has been, by far, the most eventful semester I’ve ever endured as a student advisor,” she says, as she returns to her seat.

I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a criticism, so I do the obvious thing by giving her finger guns and saying, “You’re welcome.”

She snorts. “I’m glad that working with Mr. Jones seemed to go well for you.” Her eyes sparkle, suggesting that she knows it went well for me in more ways than one. “I’ve been sending up a prayer every day that you pass this algebra final so I can rub it in Drivels’s face.”

It’s my turn to snort. My advisor is the coolest.

She hands me a small, wrapped box that says “Do Not Open Until Christmas” and winks at me, wishing me a happy holidays. “See you next semester, Ms. Miller.”

“Bye, Dr. Harrington. Thank you for everything, and happy holidays!”

Oscar, Mia, Cameron, and I have a small Christmas party in my and Mia’s dorm on the last official day of the semester before we’re all kicked out and forced to return to wherever we may call home.

We exchange homemade gifts and laugh at the guys’ attempts to make sock puppet versions of ourselves. The guys are a little impressed with the Christmas shaped cookies that Mia and I baked and decorated ourselves.

We play board games and enjoy each other’s company until the sun sets.

When this semester started, I was prepared for four months of misery and suffering, but instead I found friendship and support and happiness, even while enduring the evil that is math.

Cameron and I text every day, and it turns out, that he and Oscar only live roughly half an hour away, so on the days when Cameron doesn’t have basketball obligations, we’re able to hang out.

It’s during one of these hang out sessions at my house that my phone buzzes.

“Oh, it’s final grades.”

Scrambling comes from the kitchen as Mom pops up behind the couch, and I’m pretty sure Dad almost falls down the stairs in his haste to hear the news.

“Let’s see… A’s and one B in my education classes. I got a B in my elective… And…” I yelp and drop my phone down onto the couch.

My mother practically dives over the back to reach into the crack, but Cameron is faster. He pulls the phone out, his eyes scanning the screen. My parents are, for once in their lives, silent.

He hands the phone to my mother, a smile stretching across the handsome face I’ve become quite attached to.

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