Tutor Me by Hope Stillwater Page A

couldn’t resist. That’s it for song references, I promise.”
    “We’ll see. Now I get to ask you some questions. What do you want to do with your life?”
    “I don’t know, but definitely something math or science-related. I’m interested in genetics.”
    “Man, talk about tough. I can’t think of a relevant song quote for that,” Callum said plaintively. I shrugged, unsympathetic.
    After a pause, Callum said, “How about this?” He started singing, in a charmingly raspy voice, “I wanna learn from a Calculus Girl; I could be happy earning an A with a Calculus Girl.”
    “Clever, but you can’t modify the lyrics, that’s not the game,” I protested.
    “I changed the game. Can you name the original song?”
    I scoffed. “Of course, Neil Young, Cinnamon Girl. I thought we’d already established my musical knowledge.”
    “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you? Do you have a Spotify account?”
    “Why, you want to share some music with me?”
    “I want to see what you listen to.” I gave him a ‘whatever’ look but slid my phone over. He fiddled around with both our phones. “OK our accounts are linked.” Was I a lunatic for thinking that was super cute? Probably.
    He paused, then changed the subject. “So why are you doing this tutoring thing?”
    “What, you don’t buy that I’m that kind of nice person?”
    “Nice or not, this is a time suck that may not pay off. There are other ways to do good if that was what this was about.”
    “Truth? Mr. Ferguson kind of strong armed me into it. I’ve asked him to write a letter of recommendation for me for college, and he said that besides grades he would love to be able to say I was also helping others, giving back, community minded, all that crap. Then he asked if I would be a tutor for Calc. What could I say?” I hastily added, “I don’t mind doing it or anything though.”
    “Yeh but the crowd you’re now moving in must be giving you a hard time. Those girls are meant to hide their brains behind their breasts.”
    My eyes narrowed. “Nice visual. And it’s not like those roadie chicks you hang with make a point of showcasing their mental acuity. Anyway, why the heck are you bothering to be tutored? You obviously don’t give a rat’s ass. You don’t even need a tutor. You could ace this class in a heartbeat if you cared.” I hadn’t meant to say all that but he’d pissed me off and it came out. I looked at him, wondering how he’d react.
    But he just nodded. “That’s why Mr. Ferguson assigned me a tutor. To motivate me, he said.”
    I threw my hands up. “But I can’t make you do the work, Callum, I can’t make you come to class or remember your textbook or study for the quizzes. We have a quiz in two days’ time and you haven’t taken any notes in class since the start of term” I persisted.  “It’s one thing to tutor a student who is trying their best but just can’t grasp the material and needs extra instruction, but that is not what’s going on with you.”
    Callum leaned back in his seat and eyed me shrewdly. “Let me guess, you want me to get an A because Mr. F’s letter will be so much stronger if he can say that you worked miracles as a tutor and turned a failing student into an A student?”
    No use beating around the bush at this point, so might as well own up. “Yep, that’s what I’m thinking. Although I would settle for major improvement if an A was out of the question.”
    “I feel dirty and used right now.” He was mocking me, but I did regret sounding so calculating and heartless. After all, it was his grade at stake here.
    I leaned forward and looked at him seriously. “Look, whatever your reasons are for messing up at school, it’s your own life and I can’t force you to rethink that. And it’s true, I do have this ulterior motive, with my own best interests at heart. But perhaps we can work together so that we both benefit from this arrangement.”
    He looked skeptical. “But I