Page 69 of Tutoring the Bad Boy
Turning the pen, I look down and I’m left speechless. “Kaleb Quinn, Licensed Architect.”
Most people looking at this inscription would call it lame, but what they don’t know is that you have to register as an architect. It’s not something you just call yourself. It’s a hard three years and passing the Architecture Registration Exam.
A lump forms in my throat. This pen isn’t just a gift, it’s an investment in me. It means she has faith not only that I’ll get a degree but that I’ll succeed at something I thought I loved most on this earth. Until her.
“You’re going to do it. I know you will. And now, every time you pick that pen up, you’ll be reminded that even when you might be doubting yourself, someone out there believes in you. Just because the stars are hard to reach doesn’t mean you stop trying to catch one. You’re not limited at all, Kaleb.”
A small gasp escapes her lips as I take her in a crushing hug. I’m eighteen and remarkably clueless. Even thinking that makes it sound like I’m less clueless, but I’m not. I know life is a lot harder than what I’ve experienced so far, but isn’t it better to face life with someone?
Her arms wrap around me, and she buries her face in my chest. She takes in a deep breath, and when she releases it, she melts a little more into my embrace.
“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s about all the volume I can find at the moment. She has no idea what she’s given me, and I doubt I could express it in words that could properly convey it. Even if this thing with her doesn’t last, this gift will, and it’s way more than a pen.
It’s time to talk to her mom. To come clean. To tell her exactly how I feel about Ginny. Whatever the fallout is, it is what it is. I can’t play by Principal Gray’s deal anymore, and I can’t sneak around either.
I’m all in. All. In.
* * *
The next fewweeks fly by. Well, sorta. That research paper kicks my tail. If it weren’t for Ginny, I’d be quitting school because I’d have no hope of passing. None. Zero. She pushes me, though, and I’m glad. I’m not allowed to talk negatively about myself. I will succeed. I am smart and talented and…the words kind of blur because by the third sentence I’m usually kissing her.
We’re meeting later tonight, and we’re not sneaking out. I don’t even have to talk to her mom. I’m walking through the front door, and we’re hanging out in the living room for a while.
I guess Ginny explained our Shakespeare class project. Both of us have that movie to pick, and since we’d like to be paired, we’ll pick the same one,Othello. I suspect that’s partially responsible for Principal Gray allowing us to study together in her home.
Since I’m home until then anyway, I thought I’d fix dinner for my dad. Plus, it’ll give us a chance to talk and I can tell him where I’ll be tonight. As I’m standing in front of the stove, my dad walks in the door. For a second, shock registers on his face. I figured he would be. One, I’m not in my room, and two, I’ve cooked dinner. Okay, so it’s a prepackaged meal, but I had to read the directions. That’s cooking.
“Hey, bud, what’s this?” he asks, setting his briefcase on the floor by the door.
I shrug. “I dunno. I thought you might be hungry when you got home. I mean, I’m eighteen. I have to figure out how to cook at some point, right?”
He laughs. “It would help.”
“I also need to talk to you.” I stir the hamburger and seasonings simmering in the pan.
“Oh?” The question is a mix of fear and curiosity. Most likely, he’s expecting me to tell him I’ve messed something up. I guess in a way I have. He reaches the table and sits. “So…what’s up?”
“I’ve applied to Baylor.”
He chokes. “What?”
I grab two plates, dish up the meals, and take them to the table. “I don’t want to go to MIT anymore. I figure Baylor is a good school. I can take law classes and do architecture too. It’ll be a heavy load, but I’ll be there to study, not party.”
I’ve applied to MIT because somewhere deep inside me, I hope I do get in. Not that I’ve done anything to deserve it, but maybe if I show them I’ve worked hard, that I want it, maybe they’ll accept it. My Baylor application was sent out a week ago, but even if I do go to Baylor, I could have an MIT acceptance. I’ll know I could’ve gone, and that means almost as much as actually going there.
My dad doesn’t even register that I’ve set a plate in front of him. He’s just silent and calm. I have no idea what he might be thinking.
I take a bite of my meal, and it’s abundantly clear that there’s more to cooking than reading directions. I’ve missed a step, because this stuff in my mouth is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.
Dad snorts. “Is it bad?”
I’m coughing and hacking, trying to rake out every bit of the nasty that I’ve stuffed in my face. “It’s awful.”
He pulls out his phone and brings up the app for the local pizza place, and I know he’s ordered us a Philly Cheesesteak. It’s our typical go-to. “Okay, so why the sudden shift?”
“I just…MIT is expensive. Baylor is close. I can come home for visits. I mean, it’s just practical.” I can’t tell him about that deal. I just can’t. I know how he’ll look at me. I’ve done so many things, and I think this one would crush him more than anything else I’ve done.
My dad is quiet. I figured he’d be jumping for joy, slapping me on the back and welcoming me to the club. “No.”
