I wasn’t even aware that I had mental clay,” he told her, voice tinged with awe as he thrust a triumphant fist in the air. “That rocks! And so do you, Nicole. I have to say that, for once in my life, I’m actually looking forward to studying.”
Nicole nodded.
“Well that, my good man, is a pretty high compliment,” she told him, meeting him high above the desk in a celebratory high five. “As a matter of fact, I’d say it rocks. Now let’s get to work!”
Chapter Two
One week later
Once again Nicole sat tall and proud behind her neat, basic work station at the Fitzgerald State College library; though this time she was in no way fearing or dreading the student she was due to meet here in less than ten minutes.
Indeed, she only feared and dreaded the grade he may have gotten on the first composition he was due to complete under her expert tutelage.
Oh, she knew that Spyder McKenzie was smart enough to pull off a winning composition. She only hoped that he had taken the time and initiative to complete, edit and polish his essay—which concerned the romantic themes and undercurrents prevalent in the works of The Bard, William Shakespeare—and in accordance with the deadline set by Ms. Hart, his English comp teacher—a particularly prickly instructor who’d even once threatened to give her a failing grade.
“During the entire course of my four year term of undergraduate study here at Fitzgerald, my affectionate, heartfelt nickname for her was Ms. Hart-less,” she mused, adding with a shudder, “Hey, I was an overly stressed undergrad. Cut me a break.”
She only hoped that the finicky old professor would cut her newest pupil a bit of a break; for aside from showing a great deal of creativity and more than a little writing talent, Spyder expressed a genuine willingness to learn. And while he sometimes stumbled in a few minutes late for their weekly tutoring sessions, at times even arriving in a semi-conscious state that had to be corrected via a handy dandy ‘coffee IV’ (translation, a pint of Starbucks premium blend retrieved in a frenzy en route to the library), he always did manage to make the sessions; arriving with a bright smile and—mostly—prepared to learn.
“Although it seems that today, he happens to be running a few minutes later than usual,” she noted, biting her lip as she took a cautionary look at a clock that adorned a nearby wall. “I sure hope everything went OK with his first big composition.”
She cringed in spite of herself moments later, as her usually beaming pupil walked into the library with a deep, pronounced frown; approaching their table with slow, trudging steps as he averted his eyes to the ground below them.
“Hey Nic,” he greeted her, tone low and dispirited.
“Hi Spyder,” she returned, adding as she pinned him with a gaze of keen concern, “Is everything all right?”
Spyder sighed.
“Everything’s OK, I guess,” he assured her, tone vague and unconvincing. “I only wish that I had done a bit better on my first big compositions for Ms. Hart.”
With these words he withdrew a neatly folded paper from the zippered pocket of his smart pleather jacket; holding it between them as he told her, “I was so hoping I could tell you, Nicole, that I had earned an A plus on my first big report. Guess I should have known better; I was aiming too high.” He paused here, flipping open the paper with a dramatic snap to reveal his mysterious hidden letter grade. “After all the excellent help you gave me, I guess this is the best I could do, Chief. Sorry.”
Nicole’s eyes flew wide as they regarded the phantom letter grade; one emblazoned across the top of his typewritten cover page in a brilliant flash of scarlet red ink.
“A minus,” she said the words in a low, hushed tone that conveyed an expression of pure and complete disbelief. “I know that the show has been off the air for years, Spyder, but I still feel I must ask. Am I being
Nicole nodded.
“Well that, my good man, is a pretty high compliment,” she told him, meeting him high above the desk in a celebratory high five. “As a matter of fact, I’d say it rocks. Now let’s get to work!”
Chapter Two
One week later
Once again Nicole sat tall and proud behind her neat, basic work station at the Fitzgerald State College library; though this time she was in no way fearing or dreading the student she was due to meet here in less than ten minutes.
Indeed, she only feared and dreaded the grade he may have gotten on the first composition he was due to complete under her expert tutelage.
Oh, she knew that Spyder McKenzie was smart enough to pull off a winning composition. She only hoped that he had taken the time and initiative to complete, edit and polish his essay—which concerned the romantic themes and undercurrents prevalent in the works of The Bard, William Shakespeare—and in accordance with the deadline set by Ms. Hart, his English comp teacher—a particularly prickly instructor who’d even once threatened to give her a failing grade.
“During the entire course of my four year term of undergraduate study here at Fitzgerald, my affectionate, heartfelt nickname for her was Ms. Hart-less,” she mused, adding with a shudder, “Hey, I was an overly stressed undergrad. Cut me a break.”
She only hoped that the finicky old professor would cut her newest pupil a bit of a break; for aside from showing a great deal of creativity and more than a little writing talent, Spyder expressed a genuine willingness to learn. And while he sometimes stumbled in a few minutes late for their weekly tutoring sessions, at times even arriving in a semi-conscious state that had to be corrected via a handy dandy ‘coffee IV’ (translation, a pint of Starbucks premium blend retrieved in a frenzy en route to the library), he always did manage to make the sessions; arriving with a bright smile and—mostly—prepared to learn.
“Although it seems that today, he happens to be running a few minutes later than usual,” she noted, biting her lip as she took a cautionary look at a clock that adorned a nearby wall. “I sure hope everything went OK with his first big composition.”
She cringed in spite of herself moments later, as her usually beaming pupil walked into the library with a deep, pronounced frown; approaching their table with slow, trudging steps as he averted his eyes to the ground below them.
“Hey Nic,” he greeted her, tone low and dispirited.
“Hi Spyder,” she returned, adding as she pinned him with a gaze of keen concern, “Is everything all right?”
Spyder sighed.
“Everything’s OK, I guess,” he assured her, tone vague and unconvincing. “I only wish that I had done a bit better on my first big compositions for Ms. Hart.”
With these words he withdrew a neatly folded paper from the zippered pocket of his smart pleather jacket; holding it between them as he told her, “I was so hoping I could tell you, Nicole, that I had earned an A plus on my first big report. Guess I should have known better; I was aiming too high.” He paused here, flipping open the paper with a dramatic snap to reveal his mysterious hidden letter grade. “After all the excellent help you gave me, I guess this is the best I could do, Chief. Sorry.”
Nicole’s eyes flew wide as they regarded the phantom letter grade; one emblazoned across the top of his typewritten cover page in a brilliant flash of scarlet red ink.
“A minus,” she said the words in a low, hushed tone that conveyed an expression of pure and complete disbelief. “I know that the show has been off the air for years, Spyder, but I still feel I must ask. Am I being
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