I’ve had a grand total of eighteen hours of tutoring over the three weekends with Bashir. Plus, I call him whenever Caleb and I get stuck on something. It doesn’t sound like much. But it’s made a huge difference. The concepts feel like they’re coming one at a time now, instead of hitting me like a tsunami.
Bashir says my teachers should know I’m starting to catch on. He says I should show them.
So I stay and after school and I tell Clegg and Woods I want to retake midterms. They both say they can’t change my grade. I tell them that’s not why I wanna do it.
When I finish, Clegg corrects my chemistry test. He writes a big fat B on top of the page. Then, in a bad British accent, he says, “You have become one with the Force, young Jedi.” And he hands me the test, cracking a smart-ass smile.
“Good one,” I say, sarcastic as hell. But inside I’m pumping my fists in the air. You’re damn right I’ve become one with the Force!
I head up to Pac Highway to catch my bus. And pull out my phone.
TUE DEC 16 4:35 P.M.
T: We never talked midterms
I did all right. U?
Wendy: Good. Except for a stupid B+
in English.
T: Ugh that sucks. I give you an a++
for perfect spelling punctuation and
caps while texting
Wendy: I don’t text-punctuate for just
anyone, Teodoro. They have to
be worth it.
T: That, Wendy, means a lot.
Wendy: ☺