Page 77 of Tutoring Mr. Hotshot

Rodney

The odd thing about life is that the minute you feel comfortable, reality is there to slap you in the face. It’s a reminder to not think too highly of oneself, I think.

That or it’s just a stroke of terrible luck.

Mine comes in the form of a relentless jackass who can’t take a hint.

I’m walking to the library one day when I get the sick feeling someone is following me. As quickly as possible, I look over my shoulder to see if anyone stands out.

There aren’t many people around this time of day. Even so, none of them are suspicious looking.

If anything, I’m the one they should worry about with the sudden paranoia I’m feeling.

I shake my head at myself as I pick up my pace. Weaving past obstacles makes the journey more challenging than it should be. Since when does the school have all this crap around?

There are tables and chairs strewn about, with various signs and labels on them. It looks like a…Oh, that’s right. It’s a job fair.

Maybe I should be more observant. Clearly, I’m not paying enough attention to what’s going on around here. Relief moves through me as I accept my paranoid state was likely due to everything surrounding the fair rather than some imminent danger.

Except, again, the universe is funny that way.

As I round the final corner to get to the library, a hand wraps around my biceps and pulls me into a dark alcove on the side of the building. I nearly scream but then a hand covers my mouth.

“Don’t make a fucking sound,” a menacing voice says.

A familiar menacing voice.

Shoving myself away, I spin to face Liam. “What are you doing?”

He leans against the building, his pose feigning a relaxed stance. I can tell he doesn’t feel that way though. The wrinkles in his forehead and the dark shadows under his eyes are obvious tells.

“That’s no way to greet me, Rodney.”

I throw up my hands. “This isn’t a greeting. You grabbed me. What do you want? Tell me or I’m leaving.”

What am I saying? I’m leaving anyway. Whether he tells me anything or not, it’s not my business.

“Since when did you grow a pair? This isn’t like you. Where’s the fear? Why aren’t you acting like you know your place?”

“Know my place?” I snort. “There is no place for me where you’re concerned. All you’ve ever been to me is a bully. I’m done with your bullshit. There is no need for us to be around one another. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not over until I say it’s over.”

Blinking at his ridiculous words, I start to get a clear picture of what’s happening.

“You’ve lost it, haven’t you? That sense of power you got from picking on me. That importance you felt when everyone laughed at your jokes and went along with it.” I nod in his direction. “Where are your followers?”

He growls at me, leaping forward as if he’s about to attack.

I hold steady. The fear that normally comes at his antics is gone. “They've left you behind, haven't they? All the cronies that followed every word you said.”

He doesn't respond to my words. Instead, he begins to pace from side to side.

I'm not sure what makes me stick around. Maybe it's because I want to hear what he has to say. Is he going to give me an explanation for why he taunted me all these years? Will he give me something that makes sense rather than the foolishness he's presented in the past?

“It shouldn't be this way,” he tells me. “You're just a pathetic loser, a nerd. Why does anyone care about you?”

I scoff. “They care because I'm a good person. Because I'm interesting. The things you consider that make me a loser make other people like me. Maybe you should try it instead of being an asshole.”

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