It was about a month into classes now, and Ray had been late nearly every day. As he was leaving the lecture hall, the professor pulled him aside and looked down at him over his glasses.
"Ray, I'm beginning to think you don't care about this class." He began, voice stern. "You won't pass this class if you keep up this habit of yours."
"Dr. Burns, it's all cool. I just-"
"Listen. You need to start showing up on time, and you need a tutor. I don't care who it is, they just have to be able to raise your grade. If you are not at a C or above by the middle of October, you will have to retake the course at another time."
Ray stiffened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Burns simply shook his head.
"You'd best be finding an instructor, Mr. Narvaez." With that, he picked up his binders and left, leaving Ray alone and completely stressed out.
-
Michael waa dozing off for an afternoon nap when Ray came busting through the door, jolting him awake. He sat up to yell, but stopped when he saw the frustrated expression on his face.
"Dude, what the hell has your panties in a knot?"
The shorter boy shot him a glare as he dumped his bag onto the floor.
"I have to get a fucking math tutor."
"Hey, I can totally help-"
"Michael, you suck ass at math-"
"Let me finish, fuckface." Michael grumped and folded his arms. "Or do you not want my help?"
Ray groaned and fell back onto his bed, giving in.
"Fine..."
Michael grinned cockily at him and held up his hands. "Phone." Ray tossed it to him and he caught it with ease. After entering a number, he tossed it back to Ray.
"Who the hell is Jack Pillow...Patty...P-"
"Patillo. He's a sophmore, I met him in graphic design. Then dude's a fucking genius. Give him a call, and just tell him I sent ya."
Ray looked down at the number and sighed, rolling over and burrowing underneath his blankets.
Math fucking sucked.
