Be Your Everything

Chapter Three: Goody Two Shoes

Chapter Three:

Goody Two Shoes

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Cameron's POV

I stepped into the front door of my two-story house, taking in the scent of tacos filling my nose. The TV was illuminating the living room while I looked in and saw my dad asleep in his chair. He must've gotten off work late.
My mother was talking to herself, babbling on about something that I most likely wouldn't understand. I walked into the living room, the events of tonight on my mind. What was up with Sophia being so interested in talking to me all of a sudden? She used to be popular, and quite irresistible according to what Adam says. There a small part of me that would like to know how she suddenly fell from her high status, but then she'd probably just call me stupid. Sophia isn't like the other girls. She doesn't judge people, at least not out loud.
I've noticed how she's always talking to someone different at school.

Maybe she talked to me out of the goodness of her heart earlier today and was just trying to see if I really was OK. It seemed unlikely though because most girls at school only talk to me to 'get to know me' as they call it. Then again, she doesn't seem like most girls...

"Hey, son." My dad's sleepy voice broke me from my thoughts. I sat back on the couch and propped my feet up on the coffee table.
"Hey Dad." I replied. Today wasn't exactly a good day for me. I'm almost a hundred percent sure that Mrs. Foster called my mom and told her about my poor grades. Of course, my mom knows I have trouble in reading for reasons I've never told. But you can believe that she's going to yell at me. Any other time I get a poor test grade she doesn't do much but tell me I need to do better.

"Are you ready for your game this weekend?" His rough voice asked. I nodded my head, "Sure am."

"Dinner's ready!" My mom called. Dad and I shot up and made our way to the dinner table as usual. With only the three of us here now, it felt kind of empty. Callie graduated college a few years ago as a teacher and now she's raising her 5-year-old daughter with her crappy fiancé, Lance. I don't know what she sees in that man honestly. Once you meet him, you automatically want to punch him in the face. Even my parents aren't big fans of him but they put up with him for Callie's sake.

I noticed my dad had some gray hairs coming through on his close cut beard. It's always cut short with a little bit of a mustache visual. My mom was aging to. Her stress mostly came from my sister and I. Being nine years apart, my sister and me didn't always get along. Now that she's 26 and I'm 17, we can control our rage.

"Dig in!" My dad sang. The tacos were a bit messy but delicious. My mom was a pretty good cook if I may say so myself.
"So, your teacher called today." Mom began as she took a bite of her taco. I quickly stuffed a giant bite in my mouth to avoid conversation about this subject.
"Cameron, stop it. You're gonna choke yourself." Dad butted in. I let my gaze fall onto my plate and kept it there so no eye contact was needed.

"Why did you fail your test?" Mom asked. She had finished her bite and had her fingers tapping along on the table. I swallowed, taking a gulp of my water to wash it down.
"Mom," I drug out in annoyance, "Do we have to talk about this now? I have a game coming up and-"

"That's no excuse for bad grades! Cameron Walter Bridges Dyslexia shouldn't be problem for you, either. I know that's why your doing poorly in your reading class." Her voice calmed as she talked. Bringing up the whole Dyslexia thing makes me spaz out sometimes since it is hard to deal with, especially when your a basketball player like me and have to keep your grades up if you're going to play.

I clenched my jaw to keep it from opening and saying something I'll regret later. My dad had an easy look on his face. It simply said "I'm just going to eat my food and be quiet".
While mom on the other hand, was not backing down.

"What can you do to get your grades up?" She chewed her food slowly and gripped a form tight in her hands. We may be eating tacos, but she always uses a fork. That's something I never will understand.

"I don't know, Mom." I answered, "Study more? Try to cure my Dyslexia?" Sarcasm was dripping from my words. Mom shook her head and looked down at her food. The look that always means she's thinking crossed over her face. Her brown eyes looked up at mine before she said what I dreaded most;

"You'll get a tutor. And if that doesn't help, then no more basketball."

•

"Are you serious?" Adam, my best friend since Pre-K, said. He clutched his under armour backpack as he unloaded the unneeded books into his locker.

I shrugged my shoulders, "She doesn't understand anything." Even Adam doesn't know about my Dyslexia and I'd really like to keep it that way. Nobody needs to know my weaknesses except for myself.

"Does she know what'll happen to the team if you can't play?" Adam's eyes were wide now with curiosity. Over the years he's gotten close to my mom and she's like a second mother to him. He knows how she can get when she's mad and how authoritative she thinks she can be. My dad is scared sometimes... OK so scared isn't the word. It's somewhere around that, though.

"She knows." I replied with a deep sigh. Adam closed his locker now with only few books and notebooks zipped in his bag. We started to walk down the hallway towards our classes.

"You're gonna have to get a tutor then, dude." Adam patted my back and started into the classroom. My hands hung in the air as if asking 'What the..?' Shaking my head, I made my way into Mrs. Fosters class. Suddenly, the idea hit me.

I could easily tell my mom I have a tutor and just spend my evenings hanging out with friends when I'm supposed to be 'tutoring'. Mrs. Foster wouldn't know either. This plan is fool proof...

"Mr. Bridges?" Her voice stopped me before I could reach my desk. I winced at my name being called before class even started. This can't be good.

"Yes, Mrs. Foster?" I said politely as I approached her desk. Students were still piling in when the tardy bell rang and she didn't seem to care. Old people.

"Meet me after class, OK?" She said sternly and looked at me above her glasses that were perched on the tip of her nose. I nodded slowly and walked back to my desk. A familiar girl walked in with her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail and a sweatshirt on. She also had a pair of glasses on her face that made her look different. I didn't think of who it could be until Mrs. Foster called her to the front, "Miss Belle, see me after class."

The class erupted in ohhh's and a few of the guys directing there's at me. And a lot at Sophia. Her cheeks flushed red as she turned to take her seat. I never knew she wore glasses. But then again, I never really noticed her any other time either.

Adam gave me a knowing look and several questions ran through my head.

Why would Mrs. Foster want to see both of us after class? Especially
little miss goody two shoes?

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Sorry this chapter was short!

Ohhhhh what does Mrs. Foster want do you think?

I know. Hehe.

It's not to hard to guess! Duhhh