Chapter Twelve
Ava
Hamburg was giving weekly chapter tests, and the reading was nearly impossible. Most of the students were either failing or barely holding on. The woman was ruthless. I could still hear her voice in my ear when the students started getting their things to leave. The tests, at least, gave us some quiet time away from the lecture.
My test from the week before was sitting in a pack at the corner of her desk. I sifted through and pulled mine out. It was a B. Sometimes I think she liked to surprise me with them to see what I’d do. I just took the paper and shoved it in my tote bag.
Nicole was standing outside in the hall when I walked out. “Are you heading to the library?” she asked.
“I am.” I swung around and started walking down the hall. She followed me.
“Are you tutoring Channing today?”
“No, I’m not.”
“When are you tutoring him again?” Nicole held the courtyard door open for me.
“I don’t know. What does it matter?”
“I’m just curious.” We walked through the courtyard towards the library.
“You’re more than curious, Nicole. You obsess over the guy.”
“You still don’t get it. He’s a celebrity.”
“He is not a celebrity, Nicole. He’s a college football player. You’ve got it bad.” We were walking up to the library.
“I’m not crushing on the guy. I’m intrigued by him.”
I held the library door open for Nicole. “You want him. He’s sexy. I get it, but you’re taking it a little too far.”
“It’s not like that.” Nicole followed me into the lounge, and we sat down.
“I’ll bet you want to know what he smells like and everything. It’s gross. He’s a normal human being.”
“How’s he doing in his classes?” Nicole asked.
“I can’t tell you his grades. I’m not supposed to.”
“Just in general, then. How is he doing?”
“I think he’ll pass. I don’t think his transcripts will be perfect, but he’ll pass. He’s smart.”
“Like what kind of smart?” Nicole asked.
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” Nicole shrugged.
“He’s doing well. He’ll pass his classes. Other than that, I can’t say anything else.”
“What’s his major?” Nicole asked.
“I couldn’t say.”
“Yes, you can. What’s his major? Come on; you have to tell me, Ava.”
“Fine. It’s business.”
“That’s so boring,” Nicole wrinkled her nose. “Why couldn’t it be something fun?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, graphic design, maybe? I’m not obsessed,” Nicole insisted. “You’ve got it wrong.”
I shrugged. If she was really severely obsessed, she would’ve pushed the issue. Her case was moderate. She seemed to be thinking about it until she was ready to leave.
“Come to the dining hall for dinner,” she said. “It’s not that far away. You can walk right back to the library when we’re done.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“And why not?”
“I have plans.”
“You, have plans?”
I had to stop myself. I wasn’t planning on telling her about dinner with Channing. “I’m going out to dinner.”
“Is your mom in town?”
“No.”
“Then why are you going out to dinner? Do you have a date?”
“I do not.”
“Are you going with Channing?” She had a wide-eyed grin.
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re going with Channing. He’s the only other person you talk to. Admit it. I can’t believe you’re lying to me about this.” She wasn’t giving up.
“Fine, I’m going to a diner with Channing.”
“I knew it.” She motioned for me to sit back down with her. “What happened? How did he ask? Do you think he likes you? He probably does. Oh my God. This is amazing.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“Then why did he ask you to dinner? Is it so you two could study? Did he mention studying?”
“No, he didn’t mention studying.”
“Ava, you’re going on a fucking date with the hottest guy in school, and you don’t even know it. How could you be so stupid? You have to go get ready. Oh, no,” she looked me over. “You need to go get ready now.”
“No, and this isn’t a date. I’m not into him, Nicole. He’s too much a clunkhead. I need somebody that has it together.”
“Could you at least do something with your hair?”
“No, I will not do something with my hair, dammit. I have work to do. Go away.”
“Fine.”
I went back into the library to look over my anatomy textbook. We were starting to move onto nerves. We needed to know the name for every tiny strand. Like everything else, they were named in Latin, so the names were almost impossible to pronounce.
I had to keep repeating the names in my head over and over as I read through the text. It was exhausting. They mapped out every inch of the human body, and at the end of the semester, we’d be asked to draw out a map of the entire thing. It was horrific.
I had to leave and find something presentable to wear. My hair was a mess, and I was covered in a day’s worth of sweat. I found myself taking my time to brush my hair and apply my makeup. I liked to do little things, like smoky eyes and rosy cheeks, gray and red against white skin. The trick was to be subtle and add a little contrast—dark eyes, bright red lips. I hoped that Nicole wasn’t right.
I wanted to believe that Channing wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d date him. I was just his tutor. I didn’t have time to date, and neither did he. The freshman workload was no easy task, and he had his games to worry about. He was probably working harder than I was. Still, I didn’t want to look like a mess, so I went the extra mile when I dressed up.
I had a bottle of patchouli perfume with the perfect smoky aura that went perfectly with my burgundy top and tight navy blue jeans. When I stepped outside, the sun was setting, and I could see the orange cream skyline sitting behind the steeple at First Baptist across the street.
I decided to walk. The air was cool, and a light breeze was caressing my skin. The campus was green this time of year, with maple and birch trees lining the street, sending leaves dancing in the wind like aerial ballet dancers.
The diner was only a few blocks away, across the street from the dining hall. When I saw it, I eased up right away. If Channing wanted to seduce me, he wouldn’t send me to a place like that, where they sold comfort food and cheap beer.
It was exactly what I wanted: a complete mess with the smell of burnt grease and meat. When I walked in, Channing was sitting in a booth in the back. “Hey,” he waved me over. I sat down across from him.
He was drinking from a water glass. “I can’t believe you came.”
“What do you mean?”
“I figured you’d have a convenient excuse. We don’t have to study, do we? Or can we have a little small talk?”
“No small talk.”
“But I didn’t bring my books.”
“Then we’ll have to sit in silence,” I declared.
“Then we’ll have a staring contest,” he said.
“Fine.”
He sat back, closed his mouth, and met my eyes. I stared back at him, and we both did our best not to blink. The staring contest was on. I’d been practicing keeping my eyes open for years. There was no way he was going to win. I didn’t even have to try. I just stared into his blue eyes and waited, smiling just enough to let him know that there was no way he was going to win.
Then he crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out over the top corner of his mouth. I laughed.
“That’s not fair.”
“I can’t help it if I’m irresistible.”
“Is the food any good?” I changed the subject.
“It’s the only reason I come here; that and it’s off-campus, so less students.” The waitress came up and took our orders, then went back to her phone.
“Do people recognize you?” I asked.
“Sometimes. They mostly stay away, but some will come up to me and talk to me like they know me.”
“Does that happen often?” I was skeptical.
“All the time. I have little tricks I use to avoid people. Coming here is one of them,” he said, and motioned around the room. “The lobby is small, only a few seats, so nobody to bother us.”
“That’s a good idea.” I had a cup of water sitting on the table. I took a sip. “My friend, she says that you’re a celebrity. I told her it was a bunch of bull.”
“It is. I refuse to consider myself a celebrity. I hate being famous.”
“She said that they do close-ups of you all the time.”
“On TV, and they have a screen at the arena. I hate it. They have posters too.”
“That must be the most embarrassing thing in the world,” I said.
“You have no idea. I chewed the coach out when the camera crew started focusing on me, but he said there was nothing he could do. When I saw the posters, I threw a fit like you couldn’t believe, but nobody listened. Now I can’t get rid of them.”
“I would quit,” I said. “It’s not worth all the hassle you have to go through.”
“I just like the game,” he said. “I don’t care about anything else.”
“Is that what was distracting you from working?” I asked.
He sat back. “I don’t think I was distracted. I was pissed. I don’t like the way things work here.”
“How have you been doing on your tests?”
“I haven’t failed anything since we started.”
“Really?” I asked. The waitress was coming with our burgers.
“I’ve been doing fine,” he said. “I just had to get back into the groove.”
“I figured as much.” The waitress set out food down.
He squirted ketchup over his fries. “You’ve been a great help. I don’t think I would’ve made it without you.”
“You may not need me much longer.”
“No,” he said, “I plan on utilizing your services for quite some time. Everyone should have a tutor like you.”
“You’re going to wear me out. I can see it now. The other students will all fail, and I’ll be slaving away over your books.”
“Hopefully; it would make things easier to have you working for me. You can be my search engine.”
“I charge too much for that. You couldn’t afford me.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Bull,” I insisted. “You couldn’t possibly afford me. I promise.”
“I can.”
“Your parents have money, don’t they?” I asked. “I don’t mean to pry.”
“My father’s a financial adviser for Fortune 500 companies. He makes good money. How could you tell?”
“Your jeans are always label.”
“I like the way they fit,” he smirked.
“Well, it’s a dead giveaway. Most people can’t even afford those. They certainly don’t have enough money to wear them every day.”
“I didn’t think people would notice if I covered up the label. Maybe I should.” He sounded a little ashamed of himself.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “They are better than bargain crap.”
“You think?” I blushed, and he grinned. “Money doesn’t matter anyway. People attach too much importance to it.”
He just didn’t know what it meant to go without. Money meant life, education, a place to stay—everything a man needed to survive. I wanted to tell him all of that, just to fight that element of society that took those things for granted, but there was no point. It would’ve just made me look like an idiot, and I was already starting to feel self-conscious when I was with him.
He didn’t seem to notice my change in mood. He was focused on his burger, or at least he seemed to be. Channing was coy when he wanted to be. It was sloppy, in a way, but he was not to be underestimated. Something told me he knew that I was bothered by what he said, so I changed the subject.
“Listen, you’ve got to tell the team to back off.”
“Haven’t you told them off yourself?”
“They won’t listen to me. It’s the steroids. It eats their brain cells. They think I’m saying yes when I’m really saying no.”
“I’ll talk to them,” he laughed, “but I can’t promise anything.”
“That’s just great. They’re going to keep it up.” I cut open my burger and took a bite.
“I still can’t believe you showed up tonight. I was certain you’d duck out on me,” he said.
“It didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Do you spend all your time studying and tutoring students?”
“Mostly, when I’m not sleeping or in class. I don’t do much of anything. This is probably the most exciting thing I’ve done in weeks.”
“So, you’re a sophomore?” he asked.
“Yes, and it’s a thousand times worse, trust me.”
“If this year’s any indication, I’m sure I’ll do fine.” He spread ketchup over a fry and popped it in his mouth. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with my degree. I’m sure my father will fix me up with a job. This is just a prerequisite for football.”
“You can’t believe that. A business degree is gold. It’s accepted everywhere.”
“That’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why are you taking English as your major? You know that’s a dead end, don’t you?”
“No, it’s not. There’s plenty I can do with a good English degree.”
“Like what?” Channing ate another fry.
“I could write and edit. I could move on to journalism, or I could work for a major publication.”
“So, you want to be a writer?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Writing is exciting, but there’s not much money in it.”
“Really?” He looked at me. “I thought you’d have it figured it out, every detail.”
“I don’t, but you’re one to talk. When I met you, you were ready to fail your classes.”
“Fair enough. You’ve been an amazing help to me, Ava. You have no idea.”
“I think we both know you didn’t need any help.” I ate a fry.
“Honestly, you’ve gotten me through this, and it’s not just academics. I needed the motivation.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. I rarely get to see my students succeed.”
“That’s sad,” he said. “People fail way too much.”
“It’s hard. I can’t get attached to any of my students. Most of the time it’s too late by the time they come to me. The rest either stop coming or their grades degrade until they’re forced out of school. I’ve met two other students that pulled their grades up, that’s it.”
“None of the team is passing?” he asked.
“No, they won’t make it into next year.”
“That’s why most of the students on the team are freshmen.” He seemed to melt into his seat. “None of the students passed their classes last year.”
“I’ll bet you’re right,” I said. “They’re going to have to replace most of the team next year.”
“That’s not right,” he said.
“No, it’s not, but going to school and playing football can’t be easy. I can’t imagine anyone being able to put up with the stress.”
“It’s not easy,” he said. “But I can do it.”
“It takes an extraordinary person to go through what you go through,” I said. “I couldn’t do it.”
“I did it in high school,” he said. “I didn’t go to an easy school either. My parents sent me to St. Andrews.”
“That prison up the street?” I asked. “You poor thing.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” he said.
“Don’t they make you live on campus?” I asked him.
“They do,” he said. “It’s better that way. Everything is scheduled for you. There’s study time, eating time, practice time. They never gave us more work than we could handle, either.”
“I’ll bet they gave you less work because you were on the team,” I said.
“They did,” he admitted. “Football was an elective, so we took one less class, and if our assignments conflicted with our football schedule, we didn’t have to do them. That’s the way things should be here,” he said and took a bite of a fry.
“You’d be missing a lot. Our classes might not be vital to our daily lives, but there is a lot of important stuff in there.”
“It’s interesting stuff, but to be quite honest, I don’t really care about it. These classes are just hoops I have to jump through. That’s how you have to handle things,” he said. “If you delve too deep into the course material, you won’t have time for anything else. I have to have a life.”
“I enjoy the courses. I’m having a lot of fun with history, and I love English,” I said. “Some of the writers are amazing. Have you gone over your reading list? You know you’ll be tested on it at the end of the semester.”
“I haven’t,” he admitted.
“It’s crazy long. You have to get to that as soon as you can. You’ll enjoy it. They go through all of the classics—Dickens, Chaucer, and they move into French literature.”
“Is it dry?” He asked.
“Oh, anything but. They choose the best pieces. The poets are particularly interesting—drug-addled buffoons, all of them, but they could write. You’ll love Rimbaud. He was a French poet.”
“What was he like?”
“An opium and ether addict, no better than a bum, but he revolutionized poetry. It was dark and absurd and vulgar.”
“Really? I thought those were mostly stuffy academic types.”
“No, not at all. In fact, some of his best work was written when he was an adolescent, and this guy—he smoked cheap tobacco and went on drinking binges. He was the furthest thing from stuffy.”
“He does sound interesting. I guess I never spent the time to get into that kind of thing, but I shouldn’t have to read all this crap. All the stuff they make us do in school is pointless.”
“I think it’s enriching, but I know what you’re saying.”
“That’s why I went lax,” he said. “I just don’t see the point in doing all of this.”
“I don’t disagree with you. Half the jobs you can get with your degree could be performed quite easily without it. But you can’t let that kind of thing get to you. Sometimes it’s better to look at the trees rather than the forest. Otherwise, you won’t get any peace.”
“It’s hard when it’s staring you right in the face.”
“See, that’s the thing. Most people aren’t smart enough to see things for the way they are. That’s a sign of superior intelligence, and it’s awesome, honestly,” I smiled, “but being intelligent is a burden. Smart people see society’s flaws and all of the stupid delusions that normal people have, and it’s hard. You get jaded.”
“I do. How do you deal with it?”
“I focus on myself and avoid other people, but it’s not enough. It’s hard to respect people. Look at the students. They’re clowns.”
“They are.” He popped a fry in his mouth.
“You’re different. I’m not sure I fully understand you, but you’re not dumb, and you’re not hormonal like the rest of the team. I don’t get it.”
“I’m not sure I understand you either, Ava, but I’m enjoying getting to know you.”
I went straight back to my burger and focused on it and nothing else. He was easy to talk to, with an open, casual demeanor. He wasn’t urging me into anything. Half the time guys would race through the food to see if I’d screw them. He didn’t seem to want to leave. He didn’t get close or try to touch me. Our fingers never brushed. He wasn’t playing any games.
The plate was too big. There were too many fries and way too much cheese. I barely finished half of it. Channing went through his like it was nothing. He probably had a special, high-calorie diet. I’d seen jocks like him. They ate like cows.
He was different in the diner, more open. He let loose in a different way. He didn’t want to bring me home for the night, but he wanted something. I wanted to know what. He plopped his last fry into his mouth and downed the rest of his water.
“You know, I have a lot to go over. You’re going to hate me tomorrow.”
“Trust me; I don’t care. Your sessions are a refresher.”
“Are they?”
“Yeah, you’re easy to be around. Your sessions go by quickly.”
“I was worried it was going to be terrible,” he said. “I’m glad I got you. I don’t know why the other guys are giving you such a hard time.” He left money on the table and walked me out.
“Do you stay in the dorms?” he asked when we got out front.
“No, I have my own place.”
“Oh, well, I stay in the dorms. Thanks for coming tonight.”’
“I had fun.” I walked back to my apartment to confine myself to my room. I had three tests to worry about, and two papers. It would take me all night to get my studying done.