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Mr. Weatling and Mr. Broderick fold their hands and lean back in their chairs. They’re annoyed. They don’t like me.
“Be logical, Rebecca,” Coach Damon says. “A tutor. That’s the solution here. Give the guy a chance. If that doesn’t work, or he chases the tutor away…”
“You see how flustered you have your coach?” Miss Morgan asks. “He’s really pushing for you. And you can’t speak a word?”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, ma’am,” I say. “Do you want me to make up lies? Do you want me to apologize and grovel? Does that even matter?”
Miss Morgan’s nostrils flared. “You have an attitude problem, you know that?”
I nod. “I understand that.”
“Do you care about this place? Do you care about your future?”
“Rebecca,” Coach Damon says. “What are we doing here?”
Miss Morgan looks around. Then she stands up.
Mr. Weatling and Mr. Broderick stand up too.
They all look so proper and distinguished.
“A tutor makes sense to me,” Miss Morgan says. “My concern is that this decision wasn’t made sooner. Why let this go so far?”
“With all due respect, ma’am,” I say. “You could have picked up on this sooner also. For all you know I’m reaching out. Looking for help. And this university has failed me.”
Coach Damon lets out a nervous laugh. “I think what we’re getting at is a solution. All of us on the same page. I’ll take the blame. I’ve failed as a coach. Academics are as important as sports. Okay?”
Miss Morgan closes her folder and then points right at me. “Let’s be clear of one thing, Mr. Archer. This is not a game. This is not a joke.”
That’s two things, Rebecca.
I bite my tongue and do not say that.
“This university is not a playground and we will not be made to look like fools. With that said, I do believe your coach makes some valid points. To just simply remove you would possibly put you on the wrong track outside of the university. Be very clear, Mr. Archer, this is your only chance.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
“Rebecca, thank you,” Coach Damon says.
He then grabs me and hurries me out of the office before I say anything else.
He keeps a smile on his face as we walk through the fancy smelling building with marble everywhere.
Once we’re outside, Coach Damon stops and turns.
“You just got a break,” he says.
“I can see that.”
“Do not fuck this up, Jax,” Coach Damon says. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Oh?” I ask.
“I have to go find someone to tutor you, right now.”
2
MILA
