Poppy Jameson has lived her life as an average. An average student. An average daughter. She isn't the favourite child, or the best student, and she has never been in a relationship. She doesn't want to fit in, but she doesn't want to stand out. She...
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Tutor sessions usually took place during lunch, or after school. I usually opted for after school as it meant I wasn't restricted by the bell ringing for last period. That, and I liked to spend lunch eating.
Monday dragged. Between each class I made sure to keep my eyes peeled for Poppy, but I didn't see her anywhere. Not even in the Sixth Form common room where everybody migrated to during break, or free periods. Their coffee machine was just good enough that it meant we didn't have venture out to the coffee shop down the road every two hours. And there was a vending machine stocked with chocolate bars.
"You okay man? You seem distracted." Paul nudged me.
I nodded, startled. "Yeah. I'm fine." But my gaze fell back on the small window on the door to the classroom as though Poppy would suddenly appear through it. Of course she didn't. Somebody who was failing biology wasn't going to crash through the door to Advanced Physics.
"I have the new Spiderman game," he continued. "You wanna come round after school and give it a go?"
We had been talking about the game ever since it had been released. It was on my Christmas list and I wouldn't have it in my possession until then, but Paul was impatient and forked out fifty pounds over the weekend. According to his Snapchat, he had barely stepped away from the television in his bedroom since Saturday morning.
"Can't. I've got a tutoring session."
"On a Monday? Since when?"
Paul's voice was just loud enough to draw the attention of our physics teacher. Mr Ford looked up from his desk, his bushy eyebrows raised. The two of us quickly looked back at our textbooks.
"Since last week. Miss Jensen arranged it," I whispered.
"That sucks," he whispered back.
"Maybe tomorrow though. After practice?"
Paul nodded, and we resumed our work. I tried to focus on the equations in front of me, but my brain wouldn't focus. I couldn't quite pinpoint why. Beside me, Paul was scribbling as though his pen was on fire. The page was covered in his messy handwriting within minutes and he barely lifted his pen up as he turned the page to continue.
When the final bell eventually rang, I shoved my books back into my backpack and stood. Paul followed shortly behind me as we hurried out of the classroom.
Thankfully, the rain had stopped during the night. In its wake, the air was still and damp, and you couldn't walk anywhere without accidentally stepping into a puddle.
Paul waved goodbye as he headed off down the driveway to the side entrance of the school. I turned towards the Sixth Form building and hopped down the steps, passing a couple students who were eager to get home as I did so.
