Page 7 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

Professor Drivels had better watch his back. I’d hate to see him meet Dr. Harrington in a dark alley.

Actually, no I wouldn’t. My bet would be on Dr. H. I wouldn't be surprised if she kicked his ass blindfolded.

“Thank you, Dr. Harrington. I’ll try not to ruin this Jones guy and his ridiculous love of math,” I say, pushing myself to my feet.

“That’s all I can ask of you,” she says with a straight face. But the crinkles around her eyes give her away. “You’ll meet with him after College Algebra on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It worked out that neither of you have class at that time.”

How fortuitous.

“It’s recommended to have your sessions in the library. Do you have a particular place there that you’d like to meet?”

“Could we meet in study room twelve?”

“That sounds great. I’ll pass it on to Mr. Jones. Your first session starts on Wednesday.” She pauses as I reach for the doorknob. “Good luck, Violet. You’ve got this.”

I smile, turning the knob and heading out into the hallway. She’s right. I’ve got this. Violet Miller is no quitter. Watch out Professor Drivels. You and your precious college algebra are going down!

* * *

I head to the library after my meeting with Dr. Harrington. I’ve already been to math class this morning, so all that’s left to do is get to work on the new homework problems Professor Drivels assigned today.

Last night, I somehow managed to get half of the answers right. But Professor Butthead still took off points because I showed my work incorrectly.

The jerk.

He said I just made up some random crap and then wrote the correct answers from the back of the book as my answers.

I was following the examples. I can’t help it that, even with examples, my work looks like it came from a completely different subject.

That’s only one of many reasons why I have little hope for this Jones tutor guy.

I weave my way through the shelves, taking my time and perusing the titles. I am not ready to do more math today. Equations, real numbers, imaginary numbers, derivatives… none of those things matter when I’m surrounded by books.

Maybe one day, after I’ve been teaching for a while, I’ll come back and get my master’s degree. I would love to be a librarian.

I’d even be happy in one of the little community libraries in a small town. It would be so lovely.

I’ve finally meandered back to my favorite study room, only to be disappointed. The lights are on. Someone else is using my room. No one ever uses this room. Not since…

Who would have the nerve to use my unofficially claimed room? I peek in before I head back to my dorm.

I recognize that messy head of hair.

Before I can even think, I barge into the room. “What do you think you’re doing? Just because I let you stay in here once; you think you own this study room now?”

Library Hottie looks up from whatever he’s reading. It looks like it has a lot of arrows and… is that a basketball court?

He blinks at me. The silence grows awkward and moments drag by like a sloth crawling across a busy road. But I stand my ground.

Finally, the good-looking punk says, “Oh, I just had a few minutes before I had to meet up with someone, so I thought I’d drop in here and study. The other rooms were all full.” He clears his throat. “Um… I won’t be here for much longer. If you don’t mind sharing with me again, I promise I’ll be quiet.”

I really don’t want to share my space… but he was here first. Again. Ugh! He’s so cute, but why does he have to keep invading this one space that I have to myself?

This public space.

That’s free for everyone to use.

But no one ever comes here. This room always seems to be free whenever I need it, so I kind of unofficially claimed it as mine.

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