Jo
From: [email protected]
Subject: Tutoring request
Hi,
I've received your request and it has been accepted. Just as my profile says, I'm available for 1 hour to 1 hour 30 minutes tops. I'll be available on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays between 3pm and 5pm and then Saturdays by 6pm at 'Beans Only' Café.
Sincerely,
Josephine.
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From: [email protected]
Subject: Received
Hi Josephine,
4pm to 5pm works just fine. I'll see you on Monday.
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From: [email protected]
Subject: Thank you
Thank you for responding. I'll see you on Monday as well.
Best wishes,
Josephine.
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WHEN A SHRILLING noise goes off in my ears, I wake up with dried drool at the corner of my mouth and my eyes blearily scan the source of the noise. I close my eyes a bit, exhaustion taking over as I lean forward and slam my hand on the alarm clock.
I feel a certain warmth on my stomach and then look down to see my body positioned in an awkward angle on the bed, the bottom of the half-closed laptop lying flat on my exposed stomach and the screen completely black. I sigh and put the device away, throwing off my covers and sitting up to get my blood sugar meter.
I'm waiting for the device to display my blood sugar level when I hear a loud pounding from the house next door. Great. Woody's back.
There's a bang and then loud music pours out of the windows of Woody's house. I pinch my eyebrows and walk towards my window with annoyance.
"Some people are trying to sleep," I yell once I spot Woody's shaggy appearance leaning over the banister in his front porch. He's brushing his teeth over the thicket of bushes in his lawn. He looks up and smiles widely, spitting foam from his mouth directly on top the flowers and waves at me.
I'm not sure if to cry from disgust or annoyance.
"You're not sleeping," he yells.
"Yeah, no shit." Then I lean a little bit forward and hold the edge of my curtains. He's grown a little more beard from the last time I saw him and his very outdated, very unpleasant looking food truck is back, sitting right next to the curb. "I thought you were kidnapped."
"People like me don't get kidnapped," he rinses his mouth with a bottle of water and spits again. "Hurry up and get dressed. Your driver's back in town."
I roll my eyes and shut the window binds before injecting myself with my slow-release insulin and then the fast-acting humalog insulin before heading into the bathroom. When I'm brushing my teeth in front of the mirror on the cabinet, I observe how darker the bags under my eyes have become and how frizzy and unpleasant the curls in my hair look. I grab my bottle of conditioner and realize it's used till half and then I grab the unused hair supplement, mum got for me the other week. I wash my mouth and squirt some of the orange colored substance into my hands and smell it. It smells like orange no doubt and something else that I can't really get a hold of.
I sigh and attempt to rinse my hands, hoping to procrastinate taking care of my hair until this weekend but for some really weird and totally annoying reason, I look back up and see Flynn's face popped up on the mirror. He's giving me that look he gave me on Friday, and his teasing eyes and annoying lips are moving and they're saying, "Bad hair day, Pryce?"
I grit my teeth with full force and splash some water on the glass but I realize it's useless since there was nothing there in the first place. What the hell just happened to my mind? I don't dwell on it. Nope. I just consider the fact that I have some time to spare and walk into the shower, arms overflowing with all the bottles of hair supplements I have.
I'm not doing this for Flynn. I'm doing this because my hair's long overdue and I want to look good. For myself. Besides, I received a request last night from a student and the first thing I want to do is look presentable. This is NOT because Flynn commented on my hair.
When I'm completely dressed, I stand in front of the mirror and observe the girl inside it. She doesn't look too bad and the difference in her hair's appearance doesn't look too obvious at all. Just right. I turn around and stare at the wall in front of my desk that is filled with different sheets of paper plastered to it. All filled with my handwriting. I take one from last night, scan the words and then head downstairs, the smell of pastry immediately filling my senses.
Mum is pacing around in the kitchen with a 'Mama knows best' apron tied around her waist and her hair in a knot at the top of her head. She's humming to the song that's playing from Woody's house and grandma's rocking on her chair with a book in her hands.
"Oh, good," Mum smiles when she sees me and beckons me towards her. "You're up."
"Good morning grandma," I kiss the old lady's forehead and discreetly squeeze the paper into her hands and she tucks it into her novel. I'm glad she always sticks to our agreement.
King barks and goes back to his food while I take a seat on the stool and place my bag on the table.
"Have you had your insulin?" Mum asks as she places a bowl of oatmeal filled with fresh strawberries and pineapples-low carb as usual-and then proceeds to remove a fresh batch of cake from the oven.
"Mhm," I reply as I crush a strawberry in my mouth. "New recipe?"
"Oh yeah. Something like that," she beams as she takes out the cake slicer and generously offers me a slice. It's a layered slice with pink, brown and cream colors at each stripe. "I saw an ad on Facebook," she explains as she drums her fingers on the counter, "a bakery of some sort and the cakes they advertised looked exactly like those," she nods towards the tray and there's a proud smile on her lips. I'm smiling too.
"So I thought, why not try it with less of all, y'know, the condiments-and trust me, there was a lot after I saw the ingredients- something more diabetic-friendly and voila."
"A masterpiece," Grandma chimes from the living room. "You should really think about opening a bakery."
Mum rolls her eyes but not before they gleam with desire. "That's not a priority right now, mum. And shouldn't you be eating by now?"
She grunts in response and goes back to her book.
"I think it's great," I tell mum once I finish the slice.
"Really?"
I nod and grab a few slices of brown bread from the toaster before grabbing the low-sugar jam from the top cabinet and slathering each slice with the red jelly.
She sighs and hands me a bottle of protein shake as soon as I'm done with the toasts and put them in small plastic bag. "Everyone's going to love them at work."
Woody's annoyingly loud horn resonates from the outside and mum kisses me on my forehead. "You sure you don't want me to take you to school?"
"Nah, I'm good. It's a different route from your workplace," I say even though we've had this conversation countless times. "Besides Woody's back."
Mum subtly rolls her eyes and mutters a brief, 'fine' before releasing me. I wave grandma goodbye and just as I'm about leaving, I hear mum say, "Love what you did with your hair by the way. It's beautiful."
Crap.
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"YOU LEFT TOWN, didn't you?"
Woody leans back on the driver's seat as soon as the truck jerks to a stop. "Sure did."
He doesn't kill the engine so the low rumbling of the truck buzzes on. He lowers the volume of the music and then slaps the console and says, "Had to get this baby fixed. Food at Woods is now back in business."
I can't help the laughter that escapes me. "What's with you and these weird names? The last time, it was Woody Or Not? Here I Eat."
His lips quirk and he runs a hand along his jaw. "Yeah, that was stupid."
I glance at his overgrown facial hair and then the old ornamental shells that are clinking against each other from where they hang on the mirror before looking at my hands. I've known Woody practically all my life not only because he lives next door but because he used to be best friends with my brother. That's before my brother pushed him away. Pushed everyone away actually. I think about the enthusiasm on his face when he said the food truck was back in business because that's the thing with him. He never gives up. No matter how much he fails at doing something. It's one of few things I admire about him.
It's why I never stopped allowing him giving me rides to school. Regardless of the rumors that surround him ever since his brother OD'd.
"Had to see my mum too," he adds silently, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
"How's she doing?" I carefully ask and he just shrugs.
"She's okay I guess. Shiny, new husband and all. I'll get used to it," he smiles and I hold back a frown. He's been saying that for four years now.
"How's your brother? Been a while since I heard from him."
My mood dampens immediately and I pick up my bag from the floor. "You know, the usual. Spending recklessly and ignoring his family. That's what he's good at."
Woody gives me a teasing smile. "I'm sure he'll come around."
"Yeah, sure." I open the door of the truck and jump down before waving him goodbye and heading into school.
There's absolutely nothing extraordinary that happens today. It's like every other dreaded Monday goes at school. Talks here and there about some insane party that was thrown last weekend, boring classes, even more boring teachers and noiseless music playing in my ears each time.
The only thing that's different is English class. And that's because I won't stop trying to figure out who 'anonymous potato head' is. Whoever they are, said they were a senior and only needed help in English Lit and that's good because it practically makes it simpler for me. English Lit is actually sort of my best subject.
My copy of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights sits still in front of me while Miss Anderson drones on. I'm trying to listen, I really am, but I can't help gazing around the class and wondering who they might be. Could it be Laura Mann who's whispering to her friend or Martin Cooper who's sexting some girl right next to me?
Maybe it's Ashanti who's doodling Spiderman on her novel-which is pretty impressive by the way- or Isaac, who seems like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Soon English Lit is over and Miss Anderson is reminding us about a paper we're supposed to turn in soon.
I run into Amanda on the way out and before I can even say 'Jack', her arm is already on my shoulder. It makes me slightly uncomfortable to be honest. I can't remember the last time someone had their hand around my shoulders. Not since Hana relocated.
"You look different. Good different," she remarks as she steers me into gym class.
"Thanks," I say in the most awkward tone ever. I still can't give a good response to compliments.
"So, you know Cass' birthday is coming up right?" she starts as we head to the locker room. By the drawl in her tone, I already know where this is headed. "and since you basically never hang out with us, we thought you should definitely be there. Besides, it's on Halloween so it's definitely going to be a big one. You know, like a double celebration."
"I thought Cass didn't like celebrating birthdays?" I ask as I twist my hair into a braid and force the gym top over my head. It's a little tight around the chest area now and I'm slightly elated that there's a possibility, my boobs may have grown a little bit bigger, regardless of the fact that I use padded bras all the time.
"Yeah, well, it's her eighteenth so she's celebrating it," she says and then shuts her locker. She turns to me and puts her hands on my shoulders and says, "Just think about it, okay? That's why I'm telling you early."
I smile a little, a forced little smile, and nod. She beams, clearly pleased with my reaction. Usually, I'd just blow her off immediately, but I'm postponing it till later. It'd be easier to disappoint her then, I guess.
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BEANS ONLY CAFÃ, sits at exactly one stone throw from Lakeville High. It's the only cafe in town that is known for the large number of students that troop in and out, every day of the week and it's not exactly hard to figure out why.
It's blue. Different shades of blue. Its walls are a beautiful shade of white and teal-one contains three frames displaying the founders of the town-, potted plants sit at various corners of the cafe with their leaves sprouting high and low, the floor is a tiled pattern-a blue peony blooming right in the middle of the cafe- and there's a mural of the sky and the clouds right behind the counter.
I walk into the warmth of the cafe, glad to escape the cold outside and the bell above the door jingles before it makes a swoosh as soon as I close it. It's crowded as usual so I head towards the counter, smile at Jace and order a decaffeinated coffee and when he's not looking, I drop a tip into the jar. He hands me the paper cup and I scan the bustling cafe before locating a booth next to a window. It looks way quieter there and seemingly the perfect place for a tutorial session so I walk briskly to the sky-blue seats and plop my ass unto the plush cushion.
I glance at the seashell clock and watch the minute hand hit the fourth shell by the left before relaxing on the seat. It's 3:45 pm. It gives me an ample fifteen minutes to calm my nerves and go through the notes I'd prepared at home.
I insert my earbuds into my ears and sip my drink as a calm song washes over me. I lower the volume so I'll be able to know when my student arrives. I don't realize how much time has passed until I head into the bathroom to check my blood sugar before coming out and seeing that it's twenty minutes past four o' clock. I shiver a bit when I get to my seat and rub my arms to relax.
Could they have come and gone within the period of time that I was in the bathroom? I didn't even spend that long in the bathroom. Oh god.
I bring out my laptop from my bag and start typing a quick email to them, telling them that it's almost thirty minutes in when the door swooshes open and the bell jingles. I look up and see Flynn and a couple of football guys walking into the cafe. He meets my eyes and I unconsciously scowl at him before going back to my laptop.
I hear his footsteps before I see him and I mentally tell myself to calm down when he unceremoniously sits in front of me.
"What do you want?" I ask without looking at him, a sudden serious expression on my face as I type words into the laptop.
"It's America," he informs me, "I can sit wherever I want."
I still don't look up at him. He's been here for a approximately fifteen seconds and I'm already annoyed.
"That seat's occupied."
"I know."
I look away from the screen and meet his intense green eyes. "So move."
He shakes his head and pulls his lip between his teeth as he raises his bag and slams it on the table. "You're awfully rude to your student."
Oh god no. Please no.
"What?" I want to cry. "What do you mean?" I feign ignorance, hoping and praying he's not who I think he is even though I think he is.
He grins, those dimple-like curves piercing into the corners of his mouth and shakes his phone at me before typing into it. I stare him as he types, at a loss for words.
My laptop pings loudly and I flinch a little when I hesitantly tap on the new email in my inbox.
From: [email protected]
Subject: HA!
What's the matter, Pryce? Cat got your tongue?
I want to die. I want the ground to open up and swallow me. I bite down hard on my bottom lip and ball my hands into fists.
You need the money. You know you do. Drop the stupid pride.
Flynn sees the hesitation that crosses my face and he smiles even wider and then leans forward on the table. "$15 per thirty minutes."
I stare at him.
He repeats himself. "I'll pay you $15."
I close my laptop and give him a fierce glance. "Fine, but here's the thing-"
He doesn't let me finish. A smug grin decorates his lips and he looks around before getting to his feet. "Let's go somewhere else."
"What?" I scoff unbelievably.
He stares down at me, his eyes as serious as ever. "I'll never concentrate in this-" he moves his hand about, "-this environment. I have like a really short attention span, so, yeah. Let's go somewhere else, just you and me. Two of us against English Lit," he finishes in the most suggestive tone ever.
I glare at him. "No."
"$20 per thirty minutes."
"Deal." I don't know how much money he has to be confidently saying these words but I frankly do not care. Anything that would catapult me far from Lakeville is worth it to me.
"Good," he says and grabs everything from the table, including his bag, my books and even my bag and heads towards the door without looking back.
I grind my teeth a little and trudge behind him like a petulant child before leaving the cafe. There's a decent looking car sitting next to the curb, the color a sleek black and the interior, a sophisticated design. He swings the back door open and flings everything he's holding inside and shuts the door.
I feel more pissed off than I already am. "Can you be caref-"
"Get in, Pryce," he says monotonously and without wasting too much time, he rounds the hood of the car and settles inside the vehicle.
I'm still standing by the curb, a light breeze fluttering in my hair and the sudden swoosh of the cafe's door behind me informs me that someone is currently exiting.
Flynn horns twice and the windows of the car slowly wind down. "Would you like me to throw you in, Pryce?" He asks very seriously with a Ray-Ban sitting on the bridge of his nose.
It's just tutoring, Jo.
I carefully open the car door and sit on the amazingly plush chair and stare straight ahead. From the corner of my eyes, he looks like he's trying not to smile and then roughly reverses the car, causing my body to jerk backwards.
"Yikes," he sarcastically says and I glare at him.
"Can you even drive?"
"Yes. Responsibly? Not so much," he answers and then zooms down the street, the force of the wind sending my hair flying straight to my mouth. I close my eyes and grasp the edges of the seat.
Dear God. I think I'm going to die.
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