I'm way ahead of you, chapter three! Now, please bear with me. This is going to partially be a 'tutor' story. Ew. I know. It's done a lot, but this fic doesn't just center on that. So, I've got that going for me. Another thing, these chapters aren't going to be extremely super long; maybe 1000-2000 words at most.
School was over, and I was asked to come speak to my English teacher. He was a spacey, weird man, Chuck Shurley. What was weirder was that he wanted us to call him Chuck. Not Mr. Shurley, or Sir, but Chuck. But, his wanting to see me started my mind racing with all the possibilities of what he could want. I got something wrong, missing yesterday cost me forty points or something, I'd receive an award, I don't know. Knowing him, it could most definitely be anything.
"Yes, sir… Chuck…?" I couldn't handle calling these professionals by name.
"It seems you've received a perfect score on every paper that's been assigned this year, Castiel. It didn't even matter on what it was about. I know I don't say it very often to you, or anyone else, but I applaud that."
"Uhm, thank you, sir… but why are you telling me this… now?" Was I being awarded for my ability to research his stupid-ass topics?
Chuck sat back and nodded, propping his feet up on the desk. "I know you're definitely wondering what the hell is going on and why I brought it up." Chuck wasn't afraid to swear most times. "I need your mind. I mean, I'd use mine, but it wouldn't be good for those involved."
"My mind? Those involved? What do you need?"
"Well, personally, I don't need your mind. Another student needs your mind, your help; I'm tired of talking about minds. They're only getting a maximum of half credit on anything, be it papers, assignments, and even tests. I know they're smart, but they just need a little push."
"And what does this exactly have to do with me, Chuck?"
Chuck rubbed his face and looked up at me. "I hate to ask this of you, Castiel, but I'd like you to help me out by helping them. A tutor if you may."
That's what he wanted. I've been a tutor before. I don't like it very well. They basically sit there, doesn't matter who, and just take what you know. Most of the people I've had to work with let me teach them when it really should've been me standing on the sidelines. If you're gonna fail, I'm not gonna do your stupid work.
"And how long would I be working with this… person?"
"That's your choice, Castiel. If you deem them unworthy of your help, you can just leave it. I'm not forcing you to do any of this, Castiel. But, if you wanna do it, I'll send them your way in the library." He glanced up at me again, a look of despair in his eyes, if you may. "Your choice."
"Yeah, I'll do it." Unfortunately, I'll probably have an extra workload on me this year.
I collected my belongings from my locker, put some headphones in, and started on my merry way out of the school. Some classical music does a person well, even when they've had a weight added to their shoulders; I'll manage, though. But as the piano riffs of the song, my favorite part, began, I was stopped at the door by the short boy from yesterday. He started talking, but I couldn't hear him.
" –and because of that, I thank you."
"Why are you thanking me?" I asked, pulling my headphones from my ears.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Uhm, thanks for letting me get the book for my brother yesterday. He's gotta work on his grades, but he really hates asking for help."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't we all. But, it's not really a problem, kid."
He held his hand out. "I'm Sam. You don't have to call me kid."
"Uhm, okay, Sam. I'm Castiel." I shook his hand, being polite. "I'm going home now, kay?" And I walked out the door, leaving him in the school, replacing my headphone.
I wasn't in the market to befriend anyone, even a freshman. It would've been weird. But I don't think it was weird to the kid, Sam.
"Hey, I wanna talk."
I spun around and found Sam behind me. He looked up at me, short bangs falling into his eyes, a smile on his face. Again, I took my headphones out. I wasn't gonna push this kid out; I don't like people, but I'm not crazy rude.
"And talk about what?" I started walking, Sam keeping pace.
"Well, why do you work in the library?"
"I'm smart."
"Like, how smart?"
"Can you recite the classes of the Dewey Decimal System?"
"Can you?"
I smirked and said, "Yes."
He shook his head and sighed. "Castiel, that's your job, though. You have to know that. Tell me something else."
"I don't have to prove myself to you. You're what… twelve?"
Sam groaned. "No! I'm fourteen. That's not the point, though. I wanna go to Stanford."
Stanford? The kid's got high hopes. "What for?"
The kid proudly beamed and announced, "I'm trying to get into the law program. I've gotta study hard."
"I admire your dream, Sam. I really do." I wanted to get away from the kid. I looked around and noticed a familiar street sign. "I enjoyed talking, Sam, but I've gotta go. House is that way. I guess I'll see you later."
"Okay, bye." He looked momentarily defeated, but he smiled. He waved and turned, walking the sidewalk in the opposite direction. I had three and a half more blocks to go.
You know the funny thing, I had dreams about reviews last night. Holy jebus. I'm not pushing, but I don't want you to keep reading if you don't like it, so tell me what you think. You'll stop reading, I'll stop writing; it's a cycle. So, review and share? The offer still stands on cookies.