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“It’s fine, Dallas. I’ll see you around.”
Then he’s gone.
And I want to punch myself in the jugular.
Chapter 12
Carson
I’m fine with my decision to walk out, right up until the moment I sit down on my couch and attempt to resume working on my outline by myself.
The professor has us doing outlines for an informative paper on a current event of our choice. I picked a random headline off CNN.com, and after I type up all the notes I’d scribbled down by hand, I’m left with a bare-bones outline that I may or may not have done correctly. I still have no idea what to put for all the A and B and C lines, let alone the i’s below those.
And it’s due tomorrow.
That’s a big giant f**k if there ever was one.
I pick up my phone and dial Ryan. He’s taken to showing up during most of my extra workouts, and we talk during those. I’m not sure I would really qualify us as friends yet. But he’s my only choice, really.
It rings and rings, and I’m left with his voice mail.
Damn.
“Hey, man, it’s Carson,” I say into the speaker. “If you get this tonight, give me a call back. Nothing big, I just have a question. If you don’t get it tonight, don’t worry about it.”
I hang up and slump back into my couch, exhausted.
Levi’s pulled off two wins in a row. They haven’t been pretty. Too many errors, but he’s had just enough impressive plays to make my chances of taking his spot even slimmer. And if I’m honest . . . I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.
I’ve almost dozed off when my phone beeps and I jerk upright. My eyelids are heavy as I grope for my phone to read the incoming text.
It’s not from Ryan, but Dallas.
So I’ve been thinking about this whole friendship thing . . .
I blink a few times to make sure I’m really awake.
And?
And I think I can handle it.
If you can.
I can’t tell if her second text is just an additional thought or a challenge. Not that it matters. My response is the same. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of her. I’d told her I wasn’t a good student, but giving her a front row seat for it was different. But tonight, I didn’t have much of a choice.
Are friends allowed to help other
stubborn friends with essay outlines?
Sure. I’m working tomorrow morning from
8 to 11 if you want to swing by.
I can’t. It’s due tomorrow, and I
have classes then.
And I’m the idiot who procrastinated. I start typing out a message asking if I can call her when she replies.
What’s your address? I’m already out. I’ll just swing by.
Oh shit. Shit taking a shit on a shit.
I jump off the couch and take a look around my messy living room. There are free weights strewn around the open space on the far side of the room. Sweats and towels and balled-up socks are strewn all over. And yesterday’s dinner still sits on the coffee table in front of me.
I throw the old food out quickly before answering her text. Then I’m in a mad dash to make the place at least somewhat presentable. With sweatpants thrown over my shoulders, my arms full of miscellaneous things, I kick a stray pair of shoes back toward my bedroom and hide it all there. My phone buzzes with another text, but I don’t look at it. There’s too much to do in too little time. I throw the weights in the corner, gathering a few more pieces of dirty laundry to stash in my room. I don’t get time to address the bathroom or the kitchen before a knock sounds at my door.
Damn it.
“Just a second!”
I pull the shower curtain closed and flip off the lights in both the bathroom and the kitchen. I’m left with only the lamp beside my couch on, and I think maybe the low light will help hide whatever I didn’t manage to straighten.
I take a few seconds to calm my breath before I open the door.
It doesn’t help. Not when I see her. Her hair shines in the light cast by the porch light outside my door. Her long legs are crossed at the ankle, and she’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt in a way that makes me smile.
I school my expression so I don’t look too eager and say, “Hey. Come on in.”
She steps inside, but she stays near the door. She looks around, and her eyes fall on the lone lamp, and I can tell she thinks I’m using the low light for something other than hiding my lack of cleanliness.
“I can’t stay long,” she says. “But I was on my way back to campus after a quick run to the store, so I thought it couldn’t hurt to swing by. Especially after I ran you off earlier.”
I shrug, still gripping the open door.
“It’s my fault. I don’t like asking for help.”
She laughs. “Join the club.”
Her shoulders relax, and I take that as my cue that it’s safe to close the door.
I move toward the couch, straightening the cushions before I take a seat in front of my English homework piled on the coffee table.
“Thanks for doing this. Next time I won’t wait until the night before to try and get help.”
“It happens. Procrastination is my natural state of being.” She sits down on the couch with nearly a full cushion between us. “So tell me what you’re working on.”
I slide my computer over so she can see what I have so far, and hand her the CNN article I printed out. I fill her in on what I’ve already outlined and explain that I’m having trouble filling out more of the outline.
She looks it all over in silence for a minute or so, then pulls my computer off the coffee table and onto her knees.
“Well, your first problem is that your roman numeral two should really be your A point under roman numeral one. They’re too closely related to be separate informative points.”
Damn. That means I need to come up with something else I can write a full paragraph about.
“The roman numeral is the broadest way to describe the topic. The letters break it down into more specific key points, and the lowercase roman numerals are for supporting details like statistics, quotes, and examples.”
I love how she just rattles off the information with no problem, when I find myself looking back at the textbook example every few seconds. She must read the frustration on my face because she turns toward me, her knee brushing my thigh.
“Think of it this way. If you were to write a paper informing someone who knows nothing about football how to evaluate the skills of a quarterback, you might choose to use your three paragraphs to evaluate his passing game, running game, and decision-making. Under each of those headings, you’d use a letter to explain the various skills that contribute to a good passing game, running game, etc. So, let’s say under ‘passing game,’ strength is your A point, accuracy might be your B point. And then for supporting details you could give player statistics or even discuss drills that are designed to improve strength or accuracy. You can include as many points and details under each heading as you want. The more you have, the more comprehensive your outline will be, and the less trouble you’ll have writing a decent-length paper when the time comes.”
