The Tutor's Clause

Chapter 5

The exam schedule went up on Monday, and George looked like he wanted to set it on fire.

"Two weeks," he said, staring at the board outside the math office. "They're giving us two weeks."

"That's standard notice."

"That's not enough time."

"It's enough time if you actually study, which, in fairness, you've started doing."

"Started being the key word."

Simona pulled him toward an empty bench before he could spiral further in the hallway, in front of an audience. "Sit. Breathe. We'll make a plan."

"I don't need a plan. I need a miracle."

"Miracles aren't on the syllabus. Plans are."

George dropped onto the bench, exam schedule still clutched like it might change if he stared hard enough.

"If I fail this exam, that's it. Rowing's gone. And knowing my father, probably a lot more than rowing."

"You're not going to fail. Not if we're smart about the next two weeks."

"You sound very confident for someone who isn't the one taking the exam."

"I'm confident because I've watched you go from guessing every answer to actually solving problems in under three weeks. That's not nothing."

George looked at her sideways. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Say the thing that makes me feel like it's not hopeless. Every time I'm sure it's hopeless, you say one sentence and suddenly it isn't."

Simona shrugged, more casual than she felt. "It's not hopeless. I'm just telling you the truth."

"Feels like a skill."

"Maybe it is."

---

They added a third session that week, an emergency one, squeezed in Wednesday afternoon in an empty classroom instead of the library.

"Why here?" George asked, dropping his bag on a desk.

"Library's full of people pretending not to watch us. This is quieter."

"Smart."

"I have my moments."

They worked through practice problems for almost two hours, longer than any session before. Somewhere around the ninety minute mark, George put his pencil down and rubbed his eyes.

"I need a break."

"Five minutes."

"Ten."

"Seven. Compromise."

He almost laughed. "You negotiate everything, don't you."

"Everything that's negotiable."

"Is this?"

"No. Seven minutes, starting now."

They sat in silence for a moment, the kind that used to feel awkward and now just felt like part of the routine.

"Can I tell you something," George said, breaking it.

"Depends what it is."

"I don't actually hate rowing. Everyone thinks I only care about it because my father does, but I don't. It's the one thing that's actually mine."

Simona turned to look at him properly. "Then why risk losing it by not studying?"

"Because studying means admitting I need help. And needing help means admitting I can't do this on my own, and admitting that means having a conversation with my father I really don't want to have."

"What conversation?"

George hesitated, longer than usual.

"Not today," he said. "I told you, later."

"You keep saying later."

"I know."

"At some point later becomes never."

"I know that too."

Simona let it sit for a second, then decided not to push. Not yet.

"Seven minutes are up," she said instead. "Page seventy two."

"You really don't quit, do you."

"Not when someone's scholarship, or someone's rowing career, is on the line."

"Fair point."

They went back to the problems, and George's focus held steadier than it had all week, like saying even part of the truth out loud had loosened something.

---

By the time they packed up, the hallway outside had gone quiet, most of the school already at dinner.

"Same time Friday?" Simona asked.

"Yeah." George slung his bag over his shoulder, then paused at the door. "Hey. Thanks. For the extra session. You didn't have to do that."

"I kind of did. My scholarship's attached to your grade, remember."

"Right. Business."

"Strictly business."

He nodded, but something in his expression didn't quite match the word, like he wasn't fully convinced either of them believed it anymore.

"Friday," he said, and left before she could answer.

Simona stood there a second long

er than necessary, telling herself the flutter in her chest was just relief that the session went well.

She almost believed it.