“Van, what have you found so far?” she asks.
“Nothing yet,” I say, stalling.
“Well, we have less than an hour left, so we need to work a little more quickly, okay?”
Frustrated, I run my hands through my hair. “It doesn’t matter what time it is, there’s nothing in the story that says she hates him. It even says he’s a good guy.”
“It does,” Josie starts, “but there’s more to it. You need to look at the text, of course, but also the sub-text.”
I shake my head. “This is why I left this class to the last possible second. Why don’t writers just say what they mean?”
“She does,” Josie assures me. “Keep looking. I know you’ll find it.”
I know I won’t, so I bring up a new tab and stab at the keys trying to ask the internet what the hell this story means. A million people have answers, but I can barely make sense of them with Josie staring me down. I click on a few links, but everything is so long. Can’t anybody summarize anymore?
“Van, you shouldn’t be typing right now. Everything you need is right in front of you.” Josie’s voice wavers a little, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable calling me out. But I’m uncomfortable right now, too.
“I need you to focus on the text,” she says.
Before I can think better of it, I shoot my mouth off. “Well, I needed you to focus on tutoring me, but you were dicking around on your phone.”
Her eyes go wide, and her neck and cheeks turn splotchy. Josie hates arguments of any kind, and I feel like a dick for snapping at her, but she was texting her fucking boyfriend and laughing at his stupid jokes.
“I’ve apologized for that, and I am sorry. It was my?—”
“Can you just help me find a quote?” I bite off the words.
“Yeah, sure.” She takes a breath and blinks, like she’s putting her tutoring mask back on. “It might be easier if you look for quotes where she’s obviously happy. Let’s start there, okay?”
“That’s fine. I’m all for whatever is gonna help me crank this paper out.”
It takes an hour, and a lot of prodding from Josie, but I pick out three quotes and string together an argument. To save time, I’m dictating to Josie and she’s typing away next to me. This story’s kinda badass, actually, and now that Josie helped me figure it out, I’m realizing how terrible my original paper was.
I hit submit with a few minutes to spare. We pack our stuff up and I’m tempted to turn to Josie and ask her if she has a minute to talk. But then I see her phone in her hand. Of course, she doesn’t have time for me and my too-late apologies. She’s got Fucking Kyle to talk to.
“See you next week,” I say, hurrying toward the doors.
“We can meet tomorrow if you?—”
“Can’t,” I say. “I’ve got a game.”
“Good luck. And if you need anything, drop it in the shared folder.”
I nod, but I’m not paying attention. I’m practically speed-walking to the other end of the room. The guys from the baseball team are back, and they’re not alone. There’s a redhead I recognize and she’s practically sitting in the one guy’s lap. The two blondes don’t look familiar, but I can change that easily.
“Hey, man. Back at the books, huh?” Lanza asks.
“Yeah, but I’m done now. I’m figuring I might unwind at Wolfie’s. You guys in?”
“Come to our place,” Lanza offers. “The drinks are free. Plus, the company’s better. You remember Taylor, right? These are her sorority sisters, Tess and Lily.”
The two girls smile at me like they want to make a sandwich and they’ve decided I’m going to be the filling. It’s not my style, and the beer I’ve promised myself at Wolfie’s is sounding better and better. But Josie’s walking past us now, so the devil on my shoulder makes me say, “Count me in.”
Tess and Lily bound up from their seats in unison. “Do you know how to get to the baseball house?” one of them asks.
“It’s not far, but it’s a little tricky. We have to cross two streets and an alley,” the other one says.
I smile down at each of them. “You know, I happen to be shit at directions. Would you two mind leading the way?”
