Callum narrows his eyes at me. “You good, Nick?”
Ian looks up. “Sheesh, yeah. What’s up?”
I smack a hand against my forehead. “I flunked my Chinese midterm.”
Ian winces. He catches himself, but not before my stomach drops like lead. “You know our test results get sent to the team, right?”
“I'm very aware,” I mutter. “It's only a matter of time before”—my phone chimes—“Coach emails me.”
None of us say a word as I scan the email.
Hi Nick,
Just got your Chinese 107 Test 1 result back. See me in my office today or tomorrow when you have a minute.
Thanks,
Rob Ramirez
Head Coach - Varsity Baseball
“He doesn’t sound mad,” I say, “but he isn’t being overly nice, either.”
“That’s a start.” Ian claps a hand onto my shoulder. “Hey, even if you don’t think you’ll need it, you should look into tutoring. Just in case you’re asked.”
“Good idea.” I offer a strained smile. “Let me check it out.”
It takes all of thirty seconds and a few clicks on the course website to find out that tutoring slots are booked up.
“Look, I’ll be fine,” I tell Ian after showing him my screen. “I’m on Coach’s good side. He’ll be understanding.”
I hope.
Coach Ramirez isn’t known for a temper. Or emotions at all, for the most part.
That doesn’t make his plain, unreadable expression any less unsettling. His office is a bright, airy glass box in the corner of the athletics center, and while the sunlight streaming in makes this feel less like an interrogation, I don’t like how the rest of the building can see in through the glass behind me.
Seriously, why are three out of the four walls here transparent?
“Thirty-seven percent,” Coach Ramirez says after regarding me for way too long. “Tell me how to say that in Chinese.”
My mind goes blank since we’ve only covered numbers up to twenty-nine so far, and he slaps his palm to his forehead.
“Why didn’t you choose French like every other guy on this team?” he asks. “We have a lot more pull there, than with…something unknown.”
That’s certainly underselling the strange French agreement.
I shrug. “I wanted to do something different.”
“Okay. That’s commendable, but only if you’re differentandyou do well.” Coach rubs the bridge of his nose. “You’ve never been on my radar for dipping below the academic requirements tostay on the team, so the fact I’ve had to haul you into my office is nothing short of an unpleasant surprise.”
“Shoot. I’m sorry?—”
He waves me off. “Don’t be. It isn’t like I’mnotused to all this, but you still need to pass the class. Have you looked into tutoring?”
“Yes, that’s the first thing I did when I got my grade back.”
Coach’s face softens into something resembling sympathy. “At least you can pull yourself together when needed. Have you signed up?”
