Researching With the Jock {BWWM High School Romance}

First Day with Mr. Marone

Greg

Lunch is usually the best part of the school day. It's a break from the monotony of lectures and a chance to sit with my boys, talk about whatever, and just relax for a bit. But today, the second day back at George Washington High, there's a different vibe. I can feel it, and I know exactly why. The MTV Video Music Awards are tonight, and everyone's hyped about it—everyone except me.

I grab my tray from the lunch line, loaded with the standard cafeteria fare—mystery meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a side of green beans that look like they've seen better days. I spot my crew at our usual table near the back of the cafeteria. Chris, Ricky, Juan, Brennan, and Vincent are already deep in conversation, probably about the awards. I plop down beside Chris and start poking at my food with my fork.

"Yo, Greg, you ready for tonight?" Ricky asks, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. He's been talking about the VMAs for weeks now.

I shake my head, already knowing where this is going. "Nah, man. I'm not watching it."

"Why not?" Vincent cuts in, his eyes wide with surprise. "Dude, it's the VMAs! Guns N' Roses, Madonna, Paula Abdul—they're all performing!"

"Yeah, and you know Michael Jackson's gonna show up, too," Brennan adds, his voice full of excitement. "Can't believe you're gonna miss it."

I let out a sigh and lean back in my chair. "I'm on punishment."

The table falls silent for a moment, and then Chris laughs. "Again? What did you do this time?"

I shrug, trying to play it off like it's no big deal, but the truth is, it sucks. "Failed Social Studies last semester. My parents said I can't do anything fun until I get my grades up."

Ricky whistles low and shakes his head. "That's rough, man."

"Yeah, they're not messing around," I mutter, taking a half-hearted bite of my meatloaf. It tastes like cardboard, but I force it down anyway.

"What are you gonna do?" Juan asks, leaning forward with genuine concern in his eyes. "You need help?"

I appreciate the offer, but I know my parents have already laid out a plan. "I'm meeting with Mr. Marone after school today. He's gonna help me get back on track."

"Mr. Marone?" Chris raises an eyebrow. "He's tough, but if anyone can help you pass, it's him."

"I hope so," I say, though doubt lingers in the back of my mind. Social Studies has always been my weakest subject, and the thought of spending extra time on it feels like a prison sentence. But I don't have much of a choice if I want to get back on the football field and out of my parents' doghouse.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and we all stand up to head to our next classes. "Good luck, man," Vincent says, clapping me on the back.

"Thanks. I'm gonna need it," I reply, managing a small smile. But as I walk toward my next class, the weight of what's ahead settles on my shoulders.

The day drags on, with each class feeling longer than the last. By the time the final bell rings, I'm both relieved and anxious. I head straight to Mr. Marone's classroom, trying to shake off the nervous energy building up inside me. His room is at the end of the hallway, right next to the history department's office. I hesitate for a moment outside the door, then take a deep breath and step inside.

The room is empty except for Mr. Marone, who's sitting at his desk, grading papers. He looks up when I walk in and gives me a nod. He's pretty laid-back most of the time. But still, I can't help feeling like I've disappointed him. "Greg, come on in. Have a seat."