𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘
prologue!
— LACEY TOWNSHIP HIGH
BRADY'S POV.
🥊 . ⚽️ . 🎸 . 🏐. ✂️
"BRADY, CAN you stay after class for a moment?" My teacher asks me, and I furrow my eyebrows, but I nod.
"Damn, what'd you do?" Ashton asks me, and I shrug. He snorts a laugh at me. "Probably 'cause you're failing right now."
I give him an unamused look. "You're not funny."
"I am, you're just sensitive." Ashton shrugs, and I roll my eyes.
Why do I consider this asshole my best friend? I seriously need to find a new one.
The bell rings shortly after Ashton and I's conversation, and I take my time putting my belongings away, then I tell Ashton I'll catch up with him later.
I walk up to my teacher's desk, wondering what he needs. He looks up at me and stops what he's writing.
"You're failing." He acknowledges, and I press my lips into a fine line. I'm aware I'm failing, dipshit.
"I'm trying to get my grades up, trust me, but—"
"Brady, there's not that much more time, and you're failing. You don't want to have to stay another year to get your credits." My teacher says sternly, and I sigh.
"I know, okay?! I know. I just— I'm trying, I don't know what else to say." I mumble, and he turns to his computer, scrolling through names for a second before he stops.
"Would you be open to being tutored?" He asks, and eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
Tutored? I do not need a tutor, I'm not stupid. I just have to work and get my grades up...
"Tutored? I don't think I need a tutor..." I mutter, and he shakes his head at me.
"Brady, I think this would be good for you. You need to get your grades up so you can move on to college." My teacher insists. "It'll be easy, I've selected an amazing student."
"What if they aren't good at teaching though? They might be a good studenr, but they don't teach for a living like teachers do. What if they didn't even improve my test scores?" I ramble, trying to verify why I don't want to be tutored.
The real reason is I don't want people to assume I'm dumb. If the fact that i have a tutor gets out to the public, people will go crazy and make all kinds of weird assumptions about me.
"Keep in mind that until you're not failing 3 classes, you can't play volleyball." He reminds, and that puts me in my perspective.
"Fine." I grumble. "When do I start?"
He smiles at me, as if this is exactly what he wanted to hear. "You start on Monday. Take the weekend to relax... or whatever."
"Monday? That's so soon!" I protest, and he sighs.
"Fine. Tuesday since I haven't asked the girl if she's open to it yet. No protests on this one." He decides, and I nod quickly. "Good. Alright, you can go now. Have a good afternoon."
