The Tutor

Chapter 7

Rafe raised the collar of his jacket higher to shield himself from the harsh autumn wind that assaulted his neck and sent shivers down his whole body.

He was getting accustomed to the quietness of his surroundings but couldn't quite get used to the gales and harsher weather being further up in the north and not getting driven around in the car all the time. The crunching of the gravel and the fallen golden leaves were a pleasant alternative to the noisy Lambos and booming music from bars that echoed in his neighbourhood back home.

He refused to take the bus, choosing to walk down the main path from school to town. It no longer surprised him to be constantly bumping into people he knew, nodding in greeting as he passed a classmate or a teacher he recognised. Looking at the map on his phone again he walked into a small alley with several small shops tucked into it. The one he was looking for was the stationary shop, where Nora worked.

He tried to imagine how to even begin this conversation and how would she react.

All he knew was that he was determined. He would dial up the charm, and add a little persistence, throw in some puppy eyes that usually worked with his aunties. Her mean glare came to his mind, and he winced. 

Plan B was to have a couple of pints and come back to beg.

"Cazzo," he said to himself. Usually, people came to him to ask for favours, not the other way around. As he pushed open the creaky door, a small bell tinkled. He spotted Nora right away, her sleek ponytail flowing as she rummaged through a box of Christmas decorations.

A middle-aged balding man wearing a proud 'manager' badge was busy putting away the Halloween decorations. She dropped the fat Santa back into the box and came to the front of the store wearing what looked like a practised, fake smile.

"Good evening, how can I help—"

She stopped as she saw him, her eyes widening with surprise. Rafe waved his hand in a wordless greeting and brought his hands to his mouth to blow hot air on them. His nose was probably tinted red from the cold.

"Can you help?" he said as he rubbed his hands together.

"What are you looking for?"

"You."

"Here I am."

Out of all the scenarios that went through his head, Rafe hadn't expected himself to be standing there tongue-tied. Her manager leaned over with interest.

Nora's brows shot up in realisation. "If you changed your mind about the book, I have it with me," she began in a small voice.

Rafe shook his head.

"I'm not here for the damn book," he said. "Shit it's cold outside. Took me forever to find this

place."

Sceptical, she looked around the shop and then back at him. "What do you want?"

"I want you to tutor me. And help me with my uni applications," Rafe said. After a pause, he added a desperate "Please."

Nora blinked. "Tutor you?"

"Yes. Help me get my grades up." After making sure the manager was occupied with something else, he added "I'll pay."

Her brow furrowed. "I'll pass. Is that all you wanted?" 

Rafe frowned. "Why not?"

"Look, I appreciate the book switch, but I don't have the time to be teaching someone. Especially someone as unmotivated and lazy as you."

"But that's why—"

"We're not friends, so I don't even want—"

"But we don't have to—"

"And frankly, I don't want you to waste my time as you do yours."

"Oh Madonna, would you let me speak?" he erupted.

"It's Nora," she corrected.

He looked up at the ceiling and vented out his frustrations in Italian with a few hand gestures. Nora looked at him with concern. If she thought he was losing his mind, she was right.

"I have to get back to work," she said and began tidying a row with different pens and markers.

"How much do you make here?" he asked as he followed her around the shop. Like all the other shops in Berk, this was looking less like your typical WHS and more like a mediaeval apothecary, with long, wooden beam ceilings and old furniture. There was what some would call a creative mess of different books, journals, pens and art supplies scattered around.

He made sure to keep his voice low so the manager wouldn't realise his only employee was being poached and get kicked out of the shop.

"That's none of your business," she replied in that deadpan voice of hers.

He walked around the shelves to face her directly. "Just humour me for once and I'll leave you alone." It was ironic because she'd humour him quite often, mostly at the expense of his ego.

"Five quid an hour. Now leave me alone."

"I'll pay you ten times that."

Nora's hand stacking away folders hesitated mid-air. She looked at him with a renewed interest, obviously mulling over his offer. Rafe knew fifty quid an hour for tutoring was no small fee anywhere, let alone in Berk.

"You're joking."

Rafe looked at her in earnest. "I'm not. Do I look like I'm in a jokey mood?"

He was staring hard at her, wishing he had mind control to convince her to say yes. Well actually if he could have any powers, it would be time manipulation. Or maybe teleporting?

He snapped out of his thoughts which tended to go in random directions. His zoning out was the reason he'd miss half of the English lesson. And any other lesson for that matter.

"You know the teachers provide extra tutoring after school? Mr. Hyam has—"

"A class on Thursday? I've tried that and would rather shoot myself in the foot than go again. He's fucking boring. He spits when he talks, and he likes to touch. A lot."

Nora cringed and brushed her lower lip with her thumb, thinking. "William and Amber are both good at English Lit. And they both take French. They're your friends. Why not ask for their help?"

Rafe had anticipated these questions, going through those scenarios in his head really helped. "They're busy. They have a social life and are involved in random clubs. Plus, I'd never get any studying done with Luke. And you, you already look and behave like a teacher anyway. And you obviously are not working here for the pleasurable environment," he said looking around for that manager who seemed to go on an extended bathroom break. "You're top of our class. Your notes were incredible. Who else would I ask?"

Nora sighed, seemingly out of excuses and more questions, but she did look like she was taking his offer seriously which was a positive sign.

"Well?" he asked.

"I need to think about it. We have deadlines coming up so soon—"

"That's why I'm asking. Think about it. Let me know. Here's my number. And here's the advance," he said, placing a crisp fifty-pound note and a piece of paper with his number on the shelf she'd just tidied.

He left hastily, so she couldn't have the time to reject him again. Let her mull over his offer. It was a good one, and his last hope.