Pass Interference (4 page)

“So, how’d I do,” he asked once she entered the room.

“You did okay,” she answered shrugging a little. She set her backpack on his desk and fished out her tablet. “I have some corrections to your essay and a new assignment.”

“Don’t I get time off for good behavior,” he joked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, without looking at him.

Okay, he was right when he told Carter she had no sense of humor at all. “Well, last time I had a tutor, I didn’t have homework every time.”

“I’m not surprised.” Sara turned to face him and put her hand on her hip. “From what I heard, your last tutor gave up on you.”

Philip raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know there was a tutor grapevine.”

“Why do you think he gave up?”

“Aah,” Philip grunted, waving at the air dismissively. “He didn’t think I was interested in my studies. I just think he couldn’t handle a challenge. I’m not sure any of you can.”

Sara winced, giving Philip his first clue there was a human being in there with real feelings. “What’s the term for an offensive maneuver before you need one?” she asked.

Is this a pop quiz?
he wondered. “The term you’re looking for is preemptive strike.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said, looking back at her tablet.

“Why do you ask?”

Sara looked at Philip intently, and he could see the wheels turning. He decided she was choosing her words carefully before answering. “Was he right, your other tutor? Are you not interested in your studies? Or were you just afraid you’d fail?”

Philip sighed and looked down at his knee. He shook his head from side to side. “I kind of lost interest in everything after—”

“After you were injured?”

Philip nodded and rubbed his hand up and down the top of his thigh. He’d gotten into the habit of rubbing his thigh, as if aiding the circulation would help him heal faster. “It’s kind of hard to focus when you feel like you might never get the chance to achieve your dreams.”

Sara’s lips parted. Looking up, he could see he caught her off-guard with his honesty. In truth, he didn’t expect to open up that way to a stranger either, and he wasn’t quite sure why he did.

She shuffled some random papers on the desk, looking a little uncomfortable with the personal nature of his revelation. “Um. Why don’t we just get to your new assignment. I just emailed it to you.”

Philip reached for his tablet on a chair and opened the email Sara sent him. He read it out loud. “Write an essay about a life-changing experience.” He looked at her. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“Why all these personal essays? If you want to know more about me, why don’t you just ask?”

“Because I don’t,” she said flatly, avoiding his gaze. “I really don’t care about you, but I find it’s easiest for people to write about subjects they know. Like, well, I could give you an assignment to write about ancient Greek civilization or energy exploration in the Mediterranean, but that would mean a lot of research on your part. If you’d prefer—”

“No! No, this is fine,” Philip responded quickly. “I’ll write a hundred words about a life-changing experience.”

“Two fifty this time.”

Philip’s eyes widened. “Two hundred and fifty words? Seriously? Am I being punished for something?”

“This isn’t a punishment. It’s an assignment. Why? What else have you got to do?”

“Ouch.” He winced at her comment.

“Are you in pain?” she asked, appearing to take his outcry literally. Looking at her, he thought he sensed a touch of humanity for the second time today. “Are you on any pain medication?” she asked.

“Not if I can help it.” Philip shook his head. “I don’t drink and I don’t do drugs.” Sara looked skeptical, so he explained. “I used to. In my freshman year, I overdid everything. It affected my concentration and my game, so I quit. I mean, I’ll have a beer now and then, but that’s it.”

While she was contemplating his explanation, Sara’s eyes fell upon something behind him. “You up on crutches?”

He followed her gaze over his shoulder to a pair of crutches leaning up against the wall behind him. He faced her again. “Not yet,” he sighed. “I’m working up to it during physical therapy.”

Sitting down in the desk chair, she asked, “How often do you go?”

“To rehab? Every other day.”

“Is it on campus?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“No, EFU isn’t quite that sophisticated when it comes to sports medicine,” he explained. “The facility I go to is about a mile away. It specializes in sports medicine and rehab. They have a state-of-the-art fitness center and I use the weights to maintain my upper body strength.”

She glanced at his legs. “You can drive?”

Philip wheeled a little closer to his desk where Sara was sitting. “I haven’t been cleared to drive yet. Carter, um one of my buddies, he usually drives me.”

Sara nodded slowly. “Of course. Carter. He’s the guy who can’t get my name right, isn’t he?”

May as well be honest, Philip decided. “It’s not that he can’t get it right. It’s just that he sees you as a…a Mary.”

Sara looked at Philip. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Um. Yeah. Sort of.” Philip grew a little uncomfortable. He shoved a stylus behind his ear. “It um…sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Well since you did,” Sara persisted, “what does being a ‘Mary’ mean?”

Philip had to wonder if she was really this naïve or if she was just trying to make him sweat. “It’s a name that guys sometimes call girls who…seem…like…”

“Like? Like what?” She wasn’t letting this go.

“Like they’re…you know, uptight.”

“Oh.” He could almost see the light bulb coming on when her eyes widened. “Oh! Mary equals Virgin Mary, doesn’t it? I get it now.”

“Now you’re insulted,” Philip observed.

“Insulted? Not hardly,” she claimed, as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She moved her seat closer to the desk and focused on her tablet. It seemed to Philip like she was intentionally avoiding eye contact. “I mean, if being uptight means I’m the opposite of being loose, then you can call me Mary any day of the week. Anything to differentiate myself from the bimbos and cheerleaders who normally come to your room.”

Okay, that did it! Philip felt his blood pressure rising. He hated getting defensive unless it was on the field, but this time he couldn’t hide his annoyance. He roughly pulled the stylus from behind his ear and pointed it at her. “You’re really a piece of work, you know that? You just take every opportunity to tear me down.”

“If the shoe fits,” she shot back, continuing to appear detached and disinterested, despite the sharpness of her words.

What the hell was going on here
, he wondered. His parents taught him never to argue with girls, but this girl was bringing out the worst in him, and she appeared to be doing it intentionally. Philip closed his eyes and counted to ten. He reminded himself to do what he’d do in a game situation—hold his temper, be cool under pressure, defuse the situation. “You know, if you’d relax a little and keep an open mind, I just might surprise you.”

“That’s okay.” She tapped at the keyboard on her tablet as she spoke. “I really don’t want to get to know you any better than I already do.”

“Already do?” He went from weary to defensive to angry in no time flat. “Hell, you don’t know me at all!”

“I know enough,” she said, briefly glancing in his direction. “So, how much longer do you need to be in that chair?”

“If you’re not interested in getting to know me, why all the questions?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Just wondering, that’s all. Because of my major,” she added.

“Your major?” His brows knit. “What’s your major?”

“Special Education.”

“What?” Philip wheeled his chair away from her and turned it around 180 degrees. “I’m not a special ed case.”

Sara must have realized how that sounded because now she tried to backpedal. “Oh. Um. Of course you’re not. I…I didn’t mean to suggest you are.”

“So, is that why you’re tutoring me,” Philip asked, roughly running his fingers through his hair.

“No, not at all.”

“Then why?” He whirled back around. “Why did you choose to tutor me if you don’t think I’m handicapped?”

“I think you’re getting the terms ‘special needs’ and ‘special ed’ confused, Philip.” That was the first time she ever said his name out loud. “If you want to know the absolute truth,” she said, “a friend of mine—a guy—was supposed to tutor you, but he has this prejudice against jocks.”

Philip reacted by blurting out, “And so do you.”

Sara tilted her head slightly and looked at Philip as if he’d just unlocked the secrets of the universe. She sat up straighter in her chair. “I…I guess you’re right. I’m sorry.” Sara must have realized she was staring because she quickly looked away. “So what’s
your
major? Football?”

Philip chuckled. He was still plenty annoyed, but he was also willing to ease the tension. “Football’s not a major. It’s a sport. For your information, I’m majoring in Business and Economics.”

Sara’s eyes widened and she faced him again. “Really?”

“Yeeesss,” he said, drawing out the word. “My parents are small-business owners, so I guess it’s in my DNA. Don’t fall off your chair or anything, but I even get As and Bs. Well, I used to.” When she looked at him with surprise, he said, “Seriously, Sara, you’re gonna have to let go of all those preconceived notions you have about jocks. I mean, some of us even have brains.” He thought he saw a small smile on Sara’s face and noticed she was actually pretty when she smiled. Relaxing a little, he returned to the subject at hand. “So, two hundred and fifty words, huh?”

Looking back at her tablet on the desk, she smiled for real. “Ace this one and I might give you time off for good behavior.”

A smile slowly spread over Philip’s face. It was nice to see she had a sense of humor after all.

»»•««

Before Philip could finish his essay, he got a call from one of the team’s assistant coaches. Apparently, they neglected to notify him about a team meeting. As soon as he ended the call, he told Sara he needed to leave.

Sara didn’t mean to sound uninformed, but she had to ask. “You have to go to the meetings?”

“I’m still on the team,” Philip snapped. “Just because I can’t play right now doesn’t mean I’m not still an important member of the Barracudas!”

It sounded to Sara like he was trying to convince himself of that fact as much as convince her. “Sorry. It was just a question. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He did a bit of a double take when she said that. It seemed as if he was surprised she apologized. His tone softened. “I know. Sometimes I wonder if the team even remembers me. I’m more like an afterthought lately. Come on,” he said, wheeling himself toward the door.

They left the dorm and Sara walked alongside Philip’s wheelchair in the direction of the sports complex. Sara searched her brain for something to talk about. “So, what do they do at the meetings?”

“Depends. Sometimes we watch videos of the team we’re playing against next time out," he explained, "and sometimes we plan out our defense or offense. Sometimes the guys just air grievances.” As they got closer to the field, Philip looked at Sara curiously. “Why are you walking in this direction?”

Sara stopped in her tracks. She was at a loss. She really had no idea why she was walking with Philip to the sports center. She didn’t plan it. It just happened. “Um, I guess…I guess I wanted to talk to you about our next session.”

“Listen, I hope it’s okay if I turn in my essay next time we meet.”

“Looks like you figured out a way to get out of your assignment after all,” she joked.

“Hey, that’s not—” It seemed like he was about to get defensive until he saw the smile on Sara’s face. “Oh. You’re joking.”

When he smiled back at her, she felt a strange sensation, something like butterflies in her stomach. “Yeah. Um.” She nervously pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was my ineffective attempt at humor. Hey, um, if you want to meet more often than once a week, we can do that.”

Philip thought for a minute. While she waited for his answer, Sara mentally kicked herself for even asking the question. Of course he doesn’t want to get tutored more than once a week. She reminded herself that this was the guy who pretty much fired his last tutor. This process was sheer torture for him.

Then he stunned her by saying, “That’s a good idea.”

Her mouth went dry. “Oh,” was all the response Sara could manage.

“Why don’t you text me with your availability and we’ll go from there,” he suggested.

Sara merely stared and nodded.

“I…I gotta go,” Philip said, staring back. After a minute, he blinked. “You okay?” he finally asked.

Sara shook herself. “Um. Sure. Yes. I’m—” For some reason she was having a hard time stringing words together. “I’ll text you.”

Philip gave her a half smile before proceeding into the complex. Sara watched him wheel away from her. As soon as he was out of sight, she took her cell phone from her shoulder bag and checked her schedule to see when she could meet with him again.

When their next tutoring session started, Sara found out that Philip still hadn’t completed the essay she assigned. She was about to give him a hard time, when he apologized. He said he’d been distracted, and she knew what that meant. It meant he was depressed about his inability to play, just as he wrote in his first essay. So Sara decided not to make a big deal about it. Instead, she suggested he go ahead and finish it now.

While Philip was working on his essay, Sara sat down to do what she often did during tutoring sessions—her own homework. She was resting her chin on her palm, staring into space thinking about a homework problem, when the dorm room came back into focus.

The place was a disaster. Clothing strewn everywhere, empty pizza boxes and paper plates, orange rinds, empty beer bottles, soda cans, energy bar wrappers, quite possibly the leftover remnants of the gathering she walked in on the very first time she was here. No wonder the room smelled pretty rank. She glanced over at Philip in his wheelchair, looking like he was working hard on his essay. She wondered whether the apartment was in better shape when he was able-bodied.