Behold the great blue door—so big, so magnificent, so large, so majestic. Behind it lives the evil Wizard Noah, who inflicts fear and terror on anyone brave enough to meet his emerald coloured eyes. And me? I just happen to be his tutor.
Do I knock, or do I just stand here and hope for a miracle? Maybe an angel will open the door for me. Focus, Miley, focus. The sooner you start, the sooner it's over. I take a deep breath and knock.
"Come in," his husky voice echoes through the hallway. Why do I feel like I’m walking straight into my doom?
I crack the door open and peek inside.
"I'm not going to bite, Miles," he says, already irritated. I swallow the lump in my throat and open the door fully. There he is, lounging on his throne—thankfully wearing a shirt this time. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming in?" he snaps.
Great. I step inside and close the door. He spins his chair around, giving me his back. The room is impressive—like something straight out of a basketball player's dream home, with sleek furniture and an aesthetic that screams "LeBron James would live here."
"You owe me a shirt," he says, shifting my focus back to him. He’s already facing me again, and hands me his laptop.
I glance at the screen. Three hundred dollars? "Three hundred dollars for a shirt? That's insane!" I look back at him, eyes wide. "I—I can’t afford that."
"I don’t care if you can or can’t," he says coldly. "I want my shirt back."
Who buys a shirt that expensive? How am I supposed to afford this? They don’t even pay me a hundred dollars at work, and telling my mom is out of the question.
"There’s got to be another way. I can’t afford this, even if I managed to scrape the money together—it would take a while."
"Maybe if you weren’t so clumsy, you wouldn’t be in this mess."
Maybe if you weren’t so mean, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.*
"I’m really sorry about your shirt," I mumble.
"Saying sorry won’t bring it back." His tone is ice-cold. *He’s not letting me off the hook that easily.* "But come to think of it," he says, interrupting my thoughts, "there’s something else you could do."
"If it’ll cover the cost, I’ll do it." He smiles, clapping his hands together.
"You don’t have to buy me a new shirt—if you agree to my terms."
I hesitate. "What terms?"
"You will do everything and anything I tell you to, starting today, until I decide you’ve worked off your debt."
My jaw drops. Is this some kind of twisted slavery?
"And if I don’t?" I ask cautiously.
He stands and walks toward me. Instinctively, I step back until my spine hits the wall. He leans down, his eyes piercing mine, and whispers in my ear, "Then you’d better have my three hundred dollars." His warm breath sends shivers down my spine, and he returns to his chair.
"Do we have a deal, Miles?" he asks, voice low and commanding.
This feels like making a deal with the devil. "I’m sorry, could you explain what 'everything and anything' entails?"
He rolls his eyes, reclining in his chair. "And I thought you were smart."
Ouch.
"When I call you or send for you, you come. You do whatever I ask without complaining. If I tell you to wash my clothes, you do it. If I tell you to kiss my feet, you do it."
YOU ARE READING
The Nerd And The Jock
Teen Fiction"wait, what's your issue with cars anyway" he asks "Just forget it" "No, no I won't forget about it, you have to tell me cus all this is getting Crazier by the minute" I take a deep breath and sit on the bed "Promise you won't make fun of me?" "Mil...
