Ugh! I should’ve known better than this....
I pack up all my books and push my chair away from the table so I can leave. Just as I’m standing up, Mr. Popular strolls through the door looking unfazed as ever.
“Hey,” he says, walking over to my table. “Why is all your stuff packed up? Where are you going?”
“I’m off to see someone who respects my time.”
“Who is that?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re damn near an hour late.”
“So?” He shrugs, looking genuinely confused.
“So? No, not ‘so.’ We agreed to meet at four o’clock, Dean. You pay me twenty dollars an hour and I’ve just wasted one of those hours. I’m not going to waste anymore.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” He finally offers. “I mean, don’t you have homework of your own? Maybe if you would’ve been working on that while you waited, it would have kept you distracted from looking at the time. Maybe you wouldn’t be so unnecessarily angry right now.”
Is he SERIOUS?! “You know what?” I take a deep breath, refusing to let him get me riled up any further. “Thank you for that terrible half-hearted apology. I guess that makes up for everything, doesn’t it?”
“No,” he says, reaching into his pocket, placing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “But this does.”
“No, this does not.” I slide it back.
“Wait, what’s the problem here?” He shakes his head. “I said I’d pay you for three hours. You just got paid for one—for not doing a goddamn thing by the way—and once again, as you can see, I’m always looking out for you. But you’re mad because we’re only going to have two hours to spend together?”
“Oh my fucking God!” I can’t hold it in. “That’s not the point, Dean!” I’m seconds away from really going off, but a varsity cheerleader steps right between us.
“Hey, Dean.” She smiles, batting her long eyelashes at him. Then she looks over at me. “Mia,” she says, looking unimpressed.
“I’m leaving.” I step away and head for the door.
“Wait, Mia. Don’t leave.” Dean rushes in front of me and blocks my exit. “I promise to do better next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“Okay, well just give me today. If you honestly can’t deal with me after today, then we won’t have to do this anymore.”
“See, that’s the thing, I don’t want do this at all. Especially not today.”
“Please, Mia?” He smiles hard at me, trying his best to coax me into staying.
“Ugh. Please don’t smile at me like that.” I roll my eyes, giving in. “We can sit over there in the back, by the computer lab.”
“Good,” he says, walking by my side as we make our way to the secluded section.
I take out my notes on our current assignment, Beowulf, and slide them across the table to Dean. “We have to write a three-page analysis of this. Did you start yet?”
“No.” He smiles. “Why would I have started that?”
“Because you want an A. Because you’re paying me to tutor you so you can get an A. Did we not go over this a few minutes ago?”
“Mia,” he says, his dimples on full display. “I haven’t done it because it’s not due for another six weeks. Not everyone works on assignments months before they’re due.”
“And not everyone has a 4.0 GPA either. I wonder what that correlation is.”
“Not having a life? Being boring as hell all the time maybe?”
“I do have a life.”
“I’m sure you do.” He smirks. “How about we start on the assignment that’s due tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “I haven’t started that one either.”
“You are unbelievable.” I shake my head. “Okay, the three-page reflection letter about where you see yourself ten years from now. So...” I grab a notebook and turn to a clean page. “Where do you see yourself ten years from now?”
He hesitates and the smile slowly disappears from his face. “How about we take a different approach?”
“I’m listening.”
“Can you let me see what you wrote first?”
“No. We’ve been down that road before. You’re not copying what I want to do.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to be a librarian ten years from now. I’m just trying to see how you structured your paper.”
“For your information—not that it’s any of your business—I don’t want to be a librarian. I want to be an artist.”