A Step By Step Guide To Mortality

I've got you

Wilbur throwing out his work has only bugged Phil more as time continues.

He decides to test something.

"Hey, Wilbur? I have a test I want you to fill out. It's just a true or false quiz. Hand it back to me at the end of the session." Phil quietly passes Wilbur a different sheet to the rest of the students.

"Sounds good." Wilbur responds and immediately begins to work.

At the end of the lesson, Wilbur walks up to Phil's desk when it's just the two of them and hands the paper back.

"Thanks Wilbur." Phil takes the paper graciously and Wilbur says his thanks and goodbyes before leaving.

"Oh, and Mr Watson? Can you email me some of the new students' details?"

"Yep." Phil pops the P.

"That's not a problem. Have a good afternoon!" he remarks, grabbing the list of questions from Wilbur. Wilbur gives him a bright smile and a courteous wave before leaving.

It's strange how different Wilbur acts around him and Tommy compared to the tired, quiet boy who sits at the back of his class when he's alone.

Phil grabs the list of questions and carefully compares it to his marking sheet. He holds it up to the ceiling light.

The marking sheet shows the correct answers with a coloured dot. When he looks at Wilbur's sheet, every option misses the mark.

Every question is a 50/50 chance to get something correct. And what he can't believe is Wilbur had the misfortune of getting every single one wrong. Statistically speaking, Wilbur should have gotten around half the questions right considering there are only two options.

As far as Phil can figure it out, either Wilbur truly is incredibly unlucky, genuinely got 0%, and those papers he saw in the bin were a weird one time thing.

Or Wilbur got 100% on the test.

And he's pretending to need tutoring.

Tommy yanks open his umbrella, holding it high into the air to shield both him and Wilbur on the walk home. Tommy's umbrella swings back and smacks Wilbur in the face, dinking against his circular glasses.

"Okay," Wilbur begins, clearing his throat and reading off his phone. "I have a bed but never sleep, what am I?"

Wilbur grabs the umbrella from Tommy, holding it for the both of them and Tommy gives him a grateful grin, walking in time with the older.

Tommy purses his lips while thinking, then confidently states. "Tree."

Wilbur laughs as he talks, "Care to explain your thought process there?" He looks down at Tommy fondly, the boy smiling as he walks.

"No."

"Tommy, that's not the right answer."

They both laugh loudly as they continue down the street. Wilbur kept this knowledge to himself, but he knew that walking Tommy home would become a much more regular thing.

As much as Phil's trying not to, his attention is on Wilbur during tutoring.

At first, he thought it was great how collaborative the two boys were. Wilbur would help Tommy at stages and Tommy would gregariously shout the answer, a blazing grin on his face.

But now that he thinks about it, Wilbur's answers barely differ from Tommy's in skill.

Phil hates that he thinks this but it's like Wilbur looks over to Tommy to ensure they're at the same level, not help him.