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“Hey,” I hated that I sounded so insecure, but the truth was, math wasn’t getting any easier and with Buffy being the only person that had a general idea of what was going on, I was starting to get desperate, “I need to talk to you about my…math thing.”
“I’m happy you want to deal with this.” She forced a smile, “But the real person you should be talking to is Mr. Coleman.”
“Absolutely, I’m gonna’ do that.” I didn’t know when, but I probably would, “But in the mean time,” I swung my backpack, to grab my homework, which I’d ‘conveniently’ left at the top of my bag in the off chance I saw her, “I need someone to do my math homework.”
She looked around, confused, “Me?”
“You are my tutor.”
She looked offended at that, “That doesn’t mean I’m going to cheat for you.”
“It’s not cheating it’s,” he paused, trying somehow to turn this into something that wasn’t questionable, “Helping a teammate stay on the team.”
“I have a moral code.”
Of course she did, people high and mighty like her always did.
I scoffed at her, “People cheat all the time.”
“People without codes.” She returned, already beginning to stomp off, “Codeless people.”
Well that was unsuccessful. Though, I didn’t really have a chance to consider it much as a classmate, Riley from my English class, approached me.
We were always cordial during class, but I don’t know if I’d call him my friend.
“Hey TJ,” Riley offered.
“Hey Riley,” I smiled.
“So…I have a favor to ask…” he hesitated.
Oh gosh, I guess the day was a favor asking type of day. I figured I might as well hear him out, “What’s up?”
“So, you know how you sit next to Ella?”
“Yeah…?”
“I uh…”
He liked Bella. I didn’t really blame him. She was pretty and really nice.
“What do you want, Riley?”
He sounded nervous, probably afraid I wouldn't agree with whatever his plan was. I mean, I probably wouldn't, I didn't much care for helping people out when it came to stuff like that, but I still listened to him anyways, “I was wondering the next time…there’s uh...there's a group project you ask me to join your group.”
That was all under the assumption that Bella even wanted to be in a group project with me.
I guess it didn’t really do me much harm to agree to involve him, it wouldn’t be my fault if she left to go join another group.
“Uh…sure? I guess.”
“Awesome, thanks dude!”
“Hey! Not so scary basketball guy!” A voice called out to me. I’m not really sure why, but I knew it was aimed towards me. Plus, I was sort of done with Riley trying to use me.
Did that make me a hypocrite?
I mean I actually needed help. He just liked a girl.
I forced a smile at Riley as I turned towards the voice. I don’t even think I said goodbye to Riley, I just sort of walked away as I turned towards Cyrus.
I mean, who else would call me ‘Not So Scary Basketball Guy’?
I hadn’t really seen him or talked to him since I saw him at the Swingset's last week. But it was nice to see him again.
“Heeyy,” I smiled as I started to walk towards him, returning his nickname with one of my own, kind of proud of myself that I came up with something so quickly, “Underdog. What’s up?”
“Well, I know it’s kind of last minute.” Cyrus immediately replied, obviously eager over something, “But if I can get an R-S-V-P A-S-A-P, I think I can get you into my Bar-Mitzvah Par-ty.”
I glanced down at the invite. I hadn’t even opened it yet. But I knew my answer pretty much immediately. I smiled at him, “I’m there.”
Was that weird? That I knew this guy from one interaction—or I guess two now—and I was excited about the idea of being invited to a birthday party?
I guess he really was that nice. Like the type of person people wanted to say yes to.
He smiled at me. It was then that I realized he might actually be able to help me with Buffy.
“Hey, uh, can I ask you something about Buffy?”
Cyrus seemed eager to help. Yeah, I guess he was nice, “Sure.”
“Is she always so,” how could I describe her without angering her friend in the process, “high and mighty?”
To my surprise, Cyrus shrugged at me, nonchalant, “Pretty much.”
“Let’s say I need to get her to do something for me.” I hesitated, “How would I go about doing that?”
“Easy,” he smiled, “just use her two favorite words.”
“I’m sorry?” Yeah, that seemed like something she probably liked to hear.
“No,” his eyes got wide, concerned, “she hates those words.”
“Then, what?”
“Come with me,” he began to walk, and immediately, I followed, “You might not like saying this, but Buffy will love hearing it.”
“What?”
“You’re right.”
“Huh?”
“Tell her that she’s right. I’ve gotten out of many a fight with Buffy by just giving up.” He paused, evidently trying to save face, “I promise you, she’s more endearing than she sounds. She’s really nice, she just uh…she’s very determined.”
“What, determined to be right?”
“Well, in her defense." He considered, "She’s rarely ever wrong. To be honest, it's kind of annoying sometimes.”
I rolled my eyes at him, before smirking at his last comment.
He tilted his head at me, curious, “What do you need her to do for you, anyways?”
“Uh, it’s nothing. Basketball related.”
He got quiet, at that, “Oh.”
“That was uh…” I forced the conversation to continue, finding that it got suddenly quiet between us. I felt awkward, and honestly I didn’t like it, “…it was cool hanging out for a minute last week. You’re cool.”
He looked both shocked and pleased at this assessment of him, “I am?”
“Did…should I get your number?” I coughed, realizing that the bell for school would start any minute. I really never saw him around school, so I doubted I’d see him again, “In case I can’t find where your birthday party is?”
He sort of stopped walking completely, looking sort of nervous, “I mean…yeah. If that’s what you wanted, that’s uh…that’s cool with me.”
“Cool.” I smiled, handing him my phone, as he handed me mine.
Without even really thinking I saved my name as ‘Not So Scary Basketball Guy🏀’.
I thought it was funny. He quickly handed me back my phone.
Evidently he thought similarly, as he put the name ‘Underdog’ on mine.
We sort of chuckled at each other.
We had the same sense of humor.
“It’s, wrinkly. Why is it wrinkly? I never wear it!” I’d been scrambling for the past hour.
First I couldn’t find my suit—which my mom apparently left in her closet for safe keeping, something she didn't bother informing me of until she saw me tear the house apart for nearly 45 minutes—and then when I found the button-up that matched with my suit, it was in the back of my closet barely hanging on it’s hanger.
And it was wrinkly.
My sister, Billie, chuckled at me from what sounded like the middle of the room.
As I walked out of my closet she couldn’t hide her smirk as she stared me down, pretty humored that I was as annoyed as I was.
“You look like an idiot,” she chuckled.
I glanced down at myself. I guess I did look kind of dumb wearing my dress pants with no shirt,
“Yeah," I spat at her, "well who asked you?”
“Dang, there must be one heck of a girl at this party.” She paused, “Seriously, calm the heck down, dude. You’re being an annoying a-hole, yelling at everybody ‘cause you can’t find your clothes.”
“Why do you think there’s a girl?” I glared at her.
“Because you’re freaking out about getting ready,” she rolled her eyes.
“It’s not that…it’s just…I thought it would be set out already. So I thought I’d have more time to get ready. And now I’m gonna’ be late. I hate being late…”
“You’re literally always late.”
I whined, getting quiet, “I don’t like it. I don't like being late all the time. I can't help it.”
“Here,” she snatched the shirt out of my hand, “Let me iron it.”
I suddenly felt guilty, “You don’t have to.”
“Oh just shut up and let me do something nice for you for once,” she paused, “I’ll even take you to the party too.”
“There’s no girl!” I immediately shot at her. My sister always had other motives.
“K, fine there’s no girl,” she smirked, “Honestly, I just need an excuse to get out of the house. Take you to the party, run some errands for mom, maybe sneak a hang out with Luis while I wait to pick you up.”
“I thought mom and dad didn’t like that you were hanging out with him after the whole…'sneaking in' thing.”
She rolled her eyes at me, “The one and only time I ever sneak out, of course I get caught,” she pointed a hanger at me, “I still don’t believe you that you didn’t snitch.”
“I don’t snitch." I stood tall, "You have enough on me, that I’d never snitch.”
She snickered at that, “You right.”