Page 90 of Ancient History

“Tommy stared outright daggers at me during class today. Kids and even some teachers gave me the stink eye. Can you smile at me just so I remember what it feels like to not be hated?”

He laughed to himself about the ridiculousness, but I could tell it got to him. He was wired with stress. He was unfairly framed as the villain in this story. I caressed his cheek and mustered a loving smile.

“Turn,” I commanded.

Amos presented his back to me, and my hands went to work on the most epic massage.

“This wasn’t part of some evil plan.” He dipped his neck. His muscles relaxed under my touch.

“Why did you fail him?” I asked. “If he was struggling, was there a way you could’ve helped him?”

“You’re blaming me for this?” Amos sat up straight, primed like a cat.

“I’m not blaming anyone.” I gently pushed his neck back down. “I just wonder if there was a way this could’ve been avoided. You said it yourself, no teacher wants to fail a student.”

“The only person to blame is Tommy. I gave him chances. I was willing to help, but he had to meet me halfway. He didn’t do the work, plain and simple.”

“Maybe he struggled with the work.”

“Then he didn’t come to me for help. I offered to work with him after school, before school. He brushed me off. He couldn't care less and put in no effort. He had this ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude. Didn’t study, didn’t turn in assignments on time.”

That didn’t square exactly with the Tommy I knew. He didn’t slack on the soccer field. But I believed Amos was telling the truth. People contained multitudes.

“We have a zero tolerance policy for cheating, which includes plagiarism. He barely tried to hide it, too. It was the laziest cheating I’d ever seen. It was almost insulting. He cares so little about my class that he couldn’t even put in the effort to mask his plagiarism.”

Amos slouched, defeated; Tommy wasn’t the only one torn up about this.

“If he brings his grade up, he can go back to playing.”

This was our final game of the season. The team’s season-long drive to this championship was on the line.

“He works really hard on the soccer field. He knows he’s not the greatest student, but he excels in other areas.”

“I’m sure he does, but the only area I give out a grade in is Ancient History.”

I paced to the window and admired his view. My stomach was a tangle of knots that I couldn’t get out of.

“Maybe this is my fault,” I said.

“Your fault?” He looked at me like I was crazy.

“I work my guys hard. There’s practice, games, the pressure that comes with winning. It’s a lot. It’s more pressure than just getting an A. Not every athlete can handle the responsibility as well as others. It’s hard to understand if you didn’t compete.”

His face became a white sheet of building anger. I was on thin ice, and any step I took would form another crack. “So because I’m not a jock, I can’t fathom what hard work is like? You’re defending him.”

“I’m not defending him.” I heaved out a heavy breath. Today was a never ending shit snowball rolling downhill. “The athletic director wants me to attend his hearing in support.”

“Youaredefending him.”

“I’m only going to show up to speak to his hard work on the soccer team. I’m not going to defend his plagiarism. I don’t have a choice. If I didn’t comply, he might not bring me back next season. And if we lose this upcoming game because we don’t have Tommy on the field, then he definitely won’t bring me back next year.”

Amos rubbed his forehead. He let out a pained laugh, as if maybe there was a silver lining somewhere in here. “So we’re both screwed, huh?”

I rubbed his shoulders. He let out a groan which I felt, too. I felt it so hard. My brain was exhausted.

“Maybe this isn’t worth the trouble. What’s the worst that happens if Tommy passes?”

“Who gives a shit about some history paper, right? I do.” Amos pressed his lips together tight as tears beaded at his eyes. He was trying to push them back.

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