By the time I make it where I need to be, my nerves are getting the best of me. I hate this feeling. Like I’m a failure. It feels like every pair of eyes tracked me here. That there’s a giant, neon sign hanging above my head that I’m failing two of my classes.
Pushing open the door, I’m met with a face I recognize. One that instantly drops into a frown.
“What are you doing here?” Angie asks, dropping the pen in her hand.
Not the most welcoming person. I let out a sigh. It was already hard enough to come here, so this doesn’t bode well for me.
“Uhh.” I scrub my hand down the back of my neck. “I need help.”
“With what?” she bites back. Ouch. I’m not used to someone outright hating me like this.
“Astronomy. Calc. You name it, I need help.”
Her eyes study me. I don’t know her, but it’s clear she’s putting a wall between us. This is the first time I’ve ever spoken to her, and I can tell she hates me.
“You’re not here to make fun of anyone?” Her brown hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail. The red SDU T-shirt she wears shows off the freckles on her arms.
“Why would I do that?”
She crosses her arms. “Because people have come in here before to make fun of students who need help.”
“Well, that’s a dick move.” I reach back into my bag to pull out my astronomy paper, debating if I should show her. She could use this against me. Tell everyone what an idiot I am.
Not that hockey players have a reputation for being the smartest people on the planet.
Swallowing what little pride I have left, I hand the paper over to her.
“I have to turn something in by next week or I’ll fail this.”
Angie’s nose twists up as she flips through the paper. “You said you also needed help with calculus? Who’s your professor?”
“Smith.”
Angie nods, setting the paper down on the counter that separates the two of us.
“I have someone that can help you there, but no one for Craig’s class.”
“Aren’t you in my same class?”
“I can’t help you.”
I guess this is going to be harder than I thought.
“Please. You have to help me. If I fail this class, I’ll get kicked off the hockey team.”
Apparently I’m not above begging.
“You will?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Yeah. Coach says if we can’t maintain Cs, then we won’t be able to maintain our starting positions.”
“So not kicked off the team, then,” Angie oh-so-helpfully points out. “You just won’t be a starter.”
“Same difference.”
She thrusts my paper back at me, pushing it against my chest. Angie pulls back, like she’s been burned. “Look, I can’t help you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
