Coffee Shop Conversations | ✓

23

"miss bouchard, can you stay after class please?" mr. timmins calls.

no, my brain says. but some part of me is still rational enough to agree.

"do you know why you're here?"

"first off, can you tell me why he's here?" i ask in disgust, pointing to tucker elliot. tucker was standing by the side of mr. timmins' desk, rocking back and forth on his feet. he doesn't meet my eyes or even acknowledge me. asshole.

"well that has to do with why you're here."

"can i please talk to tucker for a moment?" i ask, sucking dry the very last bit of my old self from my soul and using it. it was sweet, disgusting and it worked.

"sure." 

mr. timmins allows us 2 minutes in his storage room.

"i swear to god elliot, if you told him about what happened at the party," i growl at him and he takes a step back.

"it's not, i promise." and from some inexplicable reason, his voice cracks. as if he cares about me. as if.

"that's all i need to know. get out and stop looking at me like that. i'm fine," i snap.

he opens the door for me on the way out.

"did he tell you what we're going to do?" mr. timmins asks.

"no," is my short and simple answer. it's clippy and definitely rude, but mr. timmins remains neutral.

"okay, well do you know what your grade in my class is?"

"i don't know, mr. timmins! tell me! stop asking me all these fucking questions to make my guess! stop playing these games with me!"

he and tucker look taken aback but compose themselves quickly. tucker rubs at his eyes.

"you're at an 80%, which is pretty exceptional considering you failed both of this unit's tests and have not completed any unit assignments or labs to date. if this continues, and you pass the exam with a 50%, you'll get a 70% in the class. it's not a bad mark, however, tucker has volunteered to help you get your grades up if you're interested."

i want to yell at both of them that this isn't what i fucking want! i just want to curl up and cease to exist. but because i'm amelia fucking bouchard, i force myself to keep listening.

he continues, "i know you've always been passionate about ivy league for chemistry and you truly are one of the most dedicated and intelligent students i've had in over 40 years. you had an 100%, amelia; that's practically impossible. i know you have potential.

in a week (and i know you can learn it in a week), i'll reoffer you the tests and you give me your assignments. i can't give you an 100% anymore, but with an 100% on the exam, i can give you 95%. does that sound okay?"

that didn't sound legal. nor did it sound appealing. i want to wipe the stupid little smile on his face like he was offering me the world.

"amelia, i'm breaking so many rules to make this happen. you're not the same as you were a month ago, but i know you're in there somewhere. the world needs that amelia bouchard. the chemist, the optimist."

i want to tell that the optimist is gone. i lost that part of me the day i lost my self-respect.

but if respect is earned, and optimism is learned, then maybe, just maybe, i could try again.

i had always wanted ivy league and become a bigshot chemist. 

it was the dream. and it was still in me somewhere.

i break. "you'd do that...for me?"

i'm not asking him and i'm not listening for him, but i hear him anyway. tucker looks at his feet and i hear a small, "i'd do anything for you." 

un-fucking-believable.

i want to yell at him for having the nerve to say that, but i'm too tired to yell. i just accept the fact that i would have to deal with tucker for one last week, get my closure, and get the fuck out of this town.

"we'd do anything for you," mr. timmins says with a bigger smile now.

i wipe the tears forming at my eyes. "yeah, okay, i'll do it." 

i still had a shot.