Cobalt

0:6

Cobalt

0:6

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        The bus pulls to a stop in between Lance's manor and mine. I step out of my seat and follow Lance down the alleyway. Behind me, I can hear Marshall's heavy footsteps following mine.

        As we get off the bus, I follow Lance to his house for a study session. I can't believe I agreed to tutoring these two idiots.

        The heels of my boots resound with every step I take on the ceramic tiles. It's funny because you could always tell when Mom was walking inside the house because of the clatters of her high heels. I never understood how she did it, walking in those seven inch heels. Lance slows down and walks beside me, which pulls me out of my day dream. "So what are we learning about today?"

        I grin, I honestly have no clue about my own homework, much less about his. Besides, today's gonna be a slow learning day - actually, scratch that; year - for Lance. I wonder if any of my ancestors offered tutoring services. 

        Slowly, I inhale, taking a deep breath. This was going to be pure hell. I try my best to convince myself otherwise by gawking at the trees dancing along to the coast of the wind. Every time, doing this calms me down. Perhaps it's the way the leaves shimmy their way from left to right, or maybe it's watching the branches maneuver them everywhere they go.

        Whatever it was, it helped, because my response to Lance was no where near a stressed tone: "oh, he didn't tell you?" I say looking over my shoulder to find Marshall trudging along the driveway, looking at his feet.

        "What about him?" Lance says with a puzzled expression glued to his face.

        "He failed a grade, eh?" I ask, shielding my eyes from the sun. Reaching the end of the driveway, I walk up the porch steps and open the door without bothering to knock. I slide my leather jacket and hang it on the coat rack hanging in the closet. Shortly after, I manuver myself towards the kitchen table and slip my binder out of my bag.

        Lance raises a brow, still extremely confuzzled. No wonder he needs tutor lessons. "I know," he shrugs and slides off his loafers, placing them on his mother's Persian rug. I get up and grab a few pencils, paper and erasers from the study. 

        When I come back, I'm greeted by Lance laying on the couch, and Marshall placing his black leather on a rack. "Hey, Lance?" I say as I pull up a chair facing the front door. His head jerks up to the call. A large grin appears on my face as I basket my hands. "Meet you new study buddy," I announce, lips pursed.

        The room goes silent for a minute, the only exception being Lance as he frantically pulls himself off of the couch with a stunned facade glued to his face. Marshall glares at me with dark, squinted eyes and cocks his head.

        I give the boys another minute of silent to let things sink in, and then say : "now, let's get started."

        Lance gets up and sits one of the four oak chairs at the table. Although, he doesn't exactly seem like he's ready for a tutor session. From the goofy look on his face, it looks like he's still buffering the news.

        Then there's Marshall, who's tugging at his coiffed hair, pulling upwards with one hand, and tapping a pencil with the other one. "Lance," I say, snapping him out of his confuzzled trance. "Do your homework or whatever you have to do and ask me if you need help, okay?" 

        I assume that he's not going to obey because he doesn't want to seem whipped, but to my surprise, he opens his navy green Vans bag and slides a blue binder out. I make myself a mental note to be nice to Lance for this.