Good Thing I’m Failing History

Suffice it to say, the Spider was on my mind all night. I couldn’t stop trying to remember any extra details that would help me find him. 

I even went so far as to find my yearbooks from the last three years of high school to see if he was in them, but with pictures that small, it’s impossible to tell what someone’s really wearing, beyond just shoulders up.

And there were a surprising number of students wearing black. You’d think half of them were going to a funeral, they looked so glum. 

He was probably one of them, but I didn’t know who.

So with that futile endeavor behind me, I decided that the next best thing would be to head to school ridiculously early and check everyone who comes in through the main gate. 

Did I mention I barely got any sleep last night? Because I think that’s important to note, since it’s the main reason I thought that would be a good idea. 

Not remembering that maybe only a third of the students enter through the main gate.

So, fast forward through two hours, a lot of awkward greetings and looks of “Who the heck is he and why is he standing there staring at me?,” and I got absolutely no closer to finding the Spider. 

My first class of the day was History, which did nothing to lift my mood. I’ve never been good with dates and names, so History was my worst enemy. It’s the one class I always teeter on failing, and anything lower than a C in the class would kick me off the soccer team. 

So no pressure or anything. 

"I posted the study guide for Chapter 11 through 15 online," said my history teacher, collectively nicknamed Mr. Monotone because he sounded more robot than human. "Don't forget to go over it before your test on Monday. Class dismissed." 

One massive groan echoed throughout the class. I exchanged looks with several of my teammates, and the three of them looked as despondent as I felt. 

"How are we supposed to study with double practice this weekend?" One of them said.

"Think Captain Matthew would let us skip?" said another.

"Us maybe, but definitely not Andrew. He needs to practice actually catching the balls that come his way," said the third with a pointed look in my direction and a playful punch to my shoulder. 

"Hardee har har," I said back, rolling my eyes. "Unlike you slackers, I wasn't planning on skipping in the first place."

The others shrugged and chuckled. I bid them farewell a moment later, as we approached the locker bays. 

As I was opening my locker to cram more massive textbooks on top of the ones already in there, a thought occurred to me: the library had tutoring sessions after school. Since there was no practice tonight, I could drop in and beg someone to take pity on this poor soul. 

That meant I wouldn't be able to dedicate those precious hours to searching for the Spider, but my failing grades felt ever so slightly more urgent.

Just barely though.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the thought of going to the library hadn't all but left my mind by the end of day. The only reason I remembered is because I used it as a shortcut to get through the busiest part of campus, and I happened to walk past the tutoring center.

And thank goodness I did.

Because there he stood, waiting by a desk, talking to the librarian. 

Or more like, arguing with the librarian.

I'd recognize his silhouette anywhere, but this was my first time hearing his voice. It was softer than I would have imagined, more melodic.

Pretty.

"But the test is tomorrow," he said. The insistent tone of his voice indicated that he had already mentioned this detail, and it had gotten him nowhere.

"All our math tutors are booked. I'm sorry, but you should've thought about this earlier." The librarian, a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair and a sickly complexion, sounded mildly apologetic, but mostly exasperated.

She must get a lot of students coming in for tutoring at the last minute.

Like me.

But my need for a history tutor was totally forgotten when I saw a golden opportunity.

I had to go for it.

My heart was pounding faster than after running a mile, which was strange, because I'm usually not the nervous type. I had to wipe the palms of my hands on my pants to clean the sweat off before approaching him.

"You're looking for a math tutor?" I asked. I have to give all the credit to my voice for not cracking or shaking. At least I'm decent enough at faking confidence when I need to.

He shrunk at the sound of my voice. The Spider seemed to hesitate before turning around, and he kept his gaze fixed on the floor when he finally did.

I couldn't see his eyes behind the combination of dark hair and black framed glasses, but the rest of his face was fairly unobstructed. He had a thin nose and small lips adorned by a silver piercing that I'm surprised the school lets him have -- granted I've seen girls with all sorts of piercings, but I've never seen it on a guy.

Looks nice though. Not my personal style, but it suits his overall dark aesthetic. 

Speaking of his dark aesthetic, he really looked like he'd walked out of a Hot Topic, with ripped jeans, a black shirt, and a blue and gray jacket with an unnecessary amount of chains, holes, and zippers. It looked like there was more metal than fabric.

He didn't speak, didn't respond to my inquiry, even though he was facing me. Since I couldn't be sure he'd heard me, I repeated, "Are you looking for a math tutor?" 

He almost seemed to flinch at the sound of my voice. The response I got from him was so soft, I’m sure I wouldn’t have heard him if we weren’t in the library. It was the quietest “Yes,” I’ve ever heard. 

“For which class?”

He seemed even more bothered by the continued questioning, and he shoved his hands into his pockets before saying, a little louder, “It doesn’t matter.” He sounded almost reluctant.

Everything about him gave off a “Leave me alone,” kind of attitude, but it was unconvincing. After all, I’d heard the edge of panic in his voice only moments ago. 

Even without that, he looked more like a hissing kitten than an actual threat. 

Fortunately for him, I like cats. 

"I'm in Calc AB, so if it's anything below that, I can help," I offered. 

I didn’t think it was possible for him to stiffen more, but now he rivaled a board. His bottom lip disappeared beneath his teeth, and his pockets bulged as I’m assuming he clenched his hands into fists. 

Seconds ticked by and he didn’t respond. It wasn’t until the librarian chimed in to say, “That’s a great idea. Thanks for taking him off my hands. Feel free to set up at any open desk.” 

The Spider’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he nodded. “Thanks,” he mumbled so low I could barely hear him. 

Feeling lighter than air, I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. “I’m Andrew, by the way,” I said, offering my hand. 

“Cody.” His hand was so small, and so cold. It shook a little in mine.

And when he looked up, and I caught a clear glimpse of his eyes, for the first time in my life, I thought, Thank God I’m failing history.