No, no. Too formal. Sounds so forced. God, why is this so hard?
ME:Hey Coach Cantu. This is Olivia Perkins and I really need to talk to you about my off campus PE form. I need to get one signed before they will let me graduate. Could you please text or call me back at your earliest convenience? Thank you so much!
I hitSENDbefore I can overthink it any more. And then stare at the screen until it shows that the message was delivered. At least I know where he’ll be in half an hour. I race home so I can change out of these pajamas and be ready to hunt him down if he doesn’t call or text me back by then.
I’m in and out of my house in ten minutes, throwing on a cuter version of the athletic shorts and a tee I was wearing earlier, and then I’m back in the car, headed to Silver Star.
It’s 11:55 by the time I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. Watching every car that pulls in, I finally see Coach Cantu get out of his truck, and I leap out of my car, chasing after him.
“Coach!” I scream through the parking lot. I’m going faster than I think, and when he stops to turn around, I dang near run him over.
“Olivia! What are you doing here?” he asks.
I have the blank form in my hand and I’m shoving it at him. Then I’m digging in my pocket for a pen. “You forgot to sign my form for my off-campus PE. They’re saying I can’t graduate without it.”
He takes the form and the pen from me, looks at it for a few seconds, then back at me. He frowns and I’m hoping it’s because he’s realizing his mistake and nothing else.
“Let’s walk inside so we can talk a moment,” he says. I follow him into the restaurant and notice the group of students off to the side. Tanika gives me a small wave. I wave back but can’t force a smile on my lips until I know all of this is going to be okay.
Coach steers me toward a seating area just inside the foyer. He sets the paper and pen on the table near the chair and pulls out a notebook from his back pocket.
It’s small and worn and he has to flip a bunch of pages before he gets to what he’s looking for, but by his nod and grimace, I can tell when he’s finally found it. And it doesn’t seem like it’s good news for me.
Coach Cantu turns the notebook around so I can read what’s on the page. My name is at the top followed by a bunch of dates, times, and numbers.
“You didn’t meet the requirements, Olivia. The dates show when we met as a class. You got credit for the time you were there. Since most days you were significantly late and there were quite a few days where you never showed up at all, you only got credit for the minutes you were there. And those missed minutes added up. I’m sorry.”
I am stunned.
It takes a few seconds before words actually form in my brain. “You docked me for being late?” I finally spit out.
“Did you read the packet I gave you on the first day?” he asks. The thing about Coach Cantu is he’s a really nice guy. Soft-spoken and patient, he’s easily one of the nicest teachers I’ve ever had. But this right here is throwing me. Is he really not going to sign this form because I was late a few times?
He’s looking at me and I realize I haven’t answered his question.
“I thought I did,” I answer. Honestly, I didn’t think too much about this class, since it seemed like a breeze compared to the rest of my course load.
“I gave everyone three excused tardies and two excused absences, no questions asked. Once you ran out of those, the tardies and the absences started counting against you. Halfway through the semester I offered several opportunities to make up time by helping with local matches. You didn’t take me up on any of those. When I was recording all the hours for the school, I realized just how behind you were and was going to let you know. There was a clinic you could have helped with, but you didn’t show up to class that day. You left me no choice.”
I don’t even remember skipping the last day. At all. I’ve had a ton of work finishing up my AP classes and getting ready for exams. My mind is racing. Spinning. I can’t not graduate because of golf! I don’t even like golf!
“I have to graduate. I’m salutatorian.”
His face lights up. “Oh, that’s wonderful! How exciting!”
I’m shaking my head. “It’s not wonderful if this class ruins all of that.”
He bends his head a little closer to me. “If you worked so hard on your other classes to achieve such high honors, why didn’t you give the same attention to mine?”
What am I going to say to that? Tell him I thought his class was a joke and didn’t mean anything?
I shrug instead and give him the most pitiful face I can manage.
Coach Cantu picks up the paper again and studies it, then glances back at his notebook. “When is this form due?”
“A week from today.”
He nods. “I’ll make you a deal. You owe me a lot of time and I could use your help during the tournament that starts tomorrow. Four full days. You give me that and I’ll apply it to the class time you missed and call it even.”
