F.A.G. (boyxboy)

F.T.G.T.B.C. (Forced to Get Tutored By Crush)

The picture is of Niels.

The rest of the classes were the same, Shelley walked me to them and made sure that I sat near her. None of the other teachers made me stand up and introduce myself, but they all gave me work. The last class was calculus which happened to be my weakness. I know, how did Rick end up with the math skills when I failed? Genetics were unfair.

We were watching a live lecture from a calculus teacher at Harvard, so I was relieved. I managed to escape the evil grip of math.

Mr. Thomsen called me up to his desk, and handed me a stack of work that he said was due in a week.

So, I hadn't escaped as I thought I had. Evil math had been hiding from me.

I stared back at him, my jaw dropped. "B-but in a week?"

He nodded, his choppy bangs falling into his face. Had he never heard of conditioner? I could imagine how dry that was. It made sense; he had a dry personality, so he was bound to have dry hair. "Yes, Mr. Cranston. Why, is that a problem for you? I would have thought that someone taking AP Calculus would know their stuff."

"Uh, well, I know calculus. It's just… I'm not the best concentrator which translates to slop on paper. At my last school, I did okay with just the normal amount of work, but this isn't the normal amount."

"Mr. Cranston, you're saying that you require help then?"

"No, I have a brother for that. He goes to MIT and majors in astrophysics. I just—"

He pursed his lips, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "MIT has a rigorous curriculum, Mr. Cranston, which means that your brother does not need to be burdened by your lack of concentration in mathematics," he replied. "I'm assigning you a tutor of sorts."

"But I don't need tutor—"

"Mr. Bourne,—"

I froze in place.

"—will you please come to my desk?" he called in the same monotonous tone. Even when he screamed, he was boring.

"Yes?" Niels asked when he came to stand next to me. He turned to me and grinned. "Hey, nice to see you here."

Mr. Thomsen wrote something on a piece of paper and folded it, stuffing it into an envelope. "Mr. Roberts," he said as he wrote the name on the front of the envelope, "who I am under the impression is your close friend, is absent today. I have this note for him, requesting him to help this new student catch up with his work." He grabbed a glue stick from somewhere under his desk and sealed the flap shut with it.

Niels took the envelope. "Mr. Thomsen, I can do it."

"I know that, Mr. Bourne. He's your friend."

"I mean, I can tutor Nick. I'm free evenings after lacrosse practice," he said.

Mr. Thomsen sighed, which for the first time in this little exchange thing, I was happy. He was not going to let him be my tutor. "I choose Mr. Roberts because he is the top of this math class, and he is done with most of his work a week ahead of everyone else. He's perfect for tutoring, Mr. Bourne, because he has no prior commitments such as lacrosse."

"But Cameron is going to be out for the rest of the week. He has the flu, and he needs to get better. You can't teach someone when you're sick."

I saw his point. If he had the flu, I didn't even want to be around him. I was not trying to get sick from some guy I hardly knew.

"Fine, Mr. Bourne, you can have your way," Mr. Thomsen said. "Make sure that you are able to actually teach him, or I will send him to a sick Mr. Roberts."