P R O M P T you're mr delmars daughter and he asks peter to tutor your slipping grades
W A R N I N G S none...unless fluff counts
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It was no secret to anyone that you didn't like school. You'd rather spend your time in the park taking photos or in your small room reading, but unfortunately, your father thought your priorities were out of sorts.
When he first noticed your grades slipping, he warned you to keep them up or else there would have been trouble. Then, you didn't care enough to see how it would affect you, you were a good student, weren't that dumb. But as you continued to neglect the schoolwork or failed to hand something in on time, your father decided that the only thing that would help you keep your grades was a tutor.
First of all, you thought it was an awful idea. You'd rather be grounded then be stuck at 5pm on a wednesday studying physics. But, if you were not to show up to the meetings, you'd be punished cruelly for sure, and you didn't feel like facing your fathers wrath, anytime soon.
"But, Dad, there isn't any good tutors around here," You complained, following your father behind the store counter. "That's basically a sign that I shouldn't be getting one."
Your father rolled his eyes as he walked towards the kitchen sink. "Honey, this is not a discussion, you're getting a tutor to help you pick up your grades, and that's final."
You huffed in annoyance, and jumped up onto the countertop, folding your arms. "Well, there won't be any helping my grades if no one is willing to help..."
The jingle of the storefront door sounded as someone walked in, but you weren't paying attention as you were rubbing your cat, Murphy.
"Hey, Mr. Delmar," The person greeted, making his way towards the counter, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a small smile.
You're surprised that you've never seen this boy ever before, because he was quite cute. His chocolate brown curls and his dreamy brown eyes were definitely a sight for sore eyes. You wondered if he went to your school, and if he did you were shocked that you'd never said hello to him.
"Ah, Mr. Parker! Number five, right?" Dad said to the boy as he pressed the buttons of the cash register.
"Yea, with pickles. And can you squish it up really flat?" The boy asked, pressing his hands together in a squishing motion. "Thanks."
