Say Yes or Fall Behind

Noah found an empty bench under a tree near the west wing—far enough from the main courtyard that most people didn't bother coming this way.

He dropped his backpack and sank down, heavy and tired.

His back still hurt from where Liam slammed him into the table earlier. Whispers and sideways glances kept swirling in his head. And underneath all that mess, one thought kept nagging at him since lunch.

I really need a tutor.

Noah yanked out his wrinkled schedule and stared at it. English. Calculus. Chemistry. He was behind in all of them. His old school was packed and broke—teachers tried, but when forty kids shared a room and half the books were missing pages, “best effort” didn't count for much.

Here, everyone talked about AP classes and college apps like it was obvious. Like there was some handbook they all got and he never did.

He didn’t know how to keep up.

And if he flunked just one class, the scholarship disappeared.

Then it’d be back to the old apartment. His old high school. Watching his mom work herself raw just to pay bills.

He wasn't letting that happen.

Noah shoved the schedule back into his bag and stood up. He’d figure something out. He always did.

He walked home, as soft-footed and slow as he felt.

The place was dead quiet when he stepped inside.

His mom’s work shoes were gone from the rack. Another night shift. She’d left him a note on the counter: Dinner’s in the fridge. Don’t stay up too late. Love you.

He heated leftovers—stir fry, he guessed—and ate standing at the counter, staring across their small, tidy apartment. Two bedrooms. Tiny kitchen. Always clean, because his mom made sure of that.

After dinner, he showered, pulled on sweats, and crashed onto his bed.

Phone buzzed.

Joe: hey you okay?

Noah: yeah. you?

Joe: tutoring went fine. guy’s pretty good actually

Noah: good

He hesitated, then typed:

Noah: i think i need a tutor too. i'm behind in like everything

Joe: oh for sure you do

Joe: i'll help you find someone tomorrow. we'll figure it out

Noah: thanks

Joe: np. sleep well

Noah dropped his phone and lay there, eyes on the ceiling.

One year.

He could slog through one year.

Next morning, Joe met him outside homeroom, grinning with a paper in hand.

“Okay,” Joe said, unfolding a crumpled page scrawled with names. “I asked around. A few tutors take scholarship kids. We just need one that fits.”

“Fits how?”

“Times. Money. If they're even available.” Joe frowned at his paper. “Let’s try this guy first—Mark Chen. Library after school.”

So they hunted Mark down at lunch. Mark was a senior, glasses sliding down his nose, pile of textbooks that looked like a weapon.

“I do group sessions,” Mark said, eyes glued to his notebook. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. Twenty bucks a session.”

“Can I get in?” Noah asked.

“Group’s full. Started two weeks ago. You’d be too far behind.”

“I can catch up.”

Mark looked at him for the first time, flat and honest. “No offense, but if you start now, you won’t. AP level. You’d slow everyone down.”

Noah clenched his teeth. “Got it. Thanks anyway.”

They walked off.

Joe studied his list. “Alright. Sarah Lin. Good at English.”

Sarah sat in the courtyard with her friends, smiling politely as Joe explained.

“I’d love to help,” she said. “But I charge fifty an hour.”

Noah stared. “Fifty?”

“I’m pretty full, so it’s a premium.” She shrugged, friendly but firm. “Most of my students see their grades jump in a month, though.”

“Right,” Noah said quietly. “I’ll… think about it.”

They drifted off.

Joe glanced over. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

But he wasn’t.

They tried three more names. One was out of time, another only took seniors, and the last wanted seventy-five an hour and didn’t bother with underclassmen.

By then, Noah’s head throbbed. He wanted to bail.

“Let’s just eat,” Joe said quietly.

They got food from the cafeteria. Noah barely tasted it—he kept doing math in his head. How much he had from summer work, what textbooks would cost, what his mom needed for rent. No room left for tutors.

No room for slipping up.

In the middle of lunch, Joe stopped talking about history. Noah looked up.

Liam Knox walked right past their table. Didn’t look at them. Didn’t even flinch. But Joe stiffened, eyes following Liam across the cafeteria, like he couldn’t help it.

“Joe,” Noah said.

Joe jerked, snapping his attention away. “What?”

“Stop.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes. You were.”

Joe flushed, poked at his sandwich, and sighed. “He’s... hard to ignore.”

Noah didn’t answer.

What could he say?

Lunch finished, they headed for the door. The cafeteria was loud and wild, voices rolling everywhere.

Halfway to the exit, someone stepped in front of Noah.

He stopped.

Jay Vale. Hands deep in his pockets, face unreadable as always.

“Carter,” Jay said.

Noah blinked. “Huh?”

“I’ll tutor you.”

The cafeteria didn’t exactly go quiet, but everyone nearby turned to watch.

Noah stared. “What?”

“You need a tutor. I’m offering.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does.” Noah crossed his arms. “Why would you help me?”

Jay cocked his head, appraising. “You think I’m doing this out of kindness?”

“I honestly have no idea why you're talking to me.”

“It’s not free,” Jay said.

Noah’s gut twisted. “Of course. How much?”

“Not money.”

“Then what?”

Jay’s eyes didn’t move. “You’ll help me train.”

Noah snorted. “Train? I don’t know crap about hockey.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t care about hockey.”

“Then watch. Doesn’t matter. But you’ll help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Jay didn’t flinch. “Yeah, you do.”

Before Noah could say another word, Joe grabbed his arm.

“He’ll think about it,” Joe cut in.

Jay looked from Joe back to Noah. “Tomorrow. Fourth floor library. After school.” Then he walked off, done with the conversation.

Noah rounded on Joe. “Why’d you say that?”

Joe pulled him toward the exit. “Saving you from yourself.”

“I don’t—”

“Noah.” Joe stopped and faced him. “You realize how wild it is for Jay Vale to offer anything? He doesn’t do this. Ever. He’s like… the top kid in our class.”

“So?”

“So, don’t be an idiot. Try it. He wants you to help him train. You can figure that out.”

Noah scowled but didn’t argue. He hated when Joe was right.

They walked in silence, until Joe finally said, “Jay doesn’t do stuff without a reason. If he’s helping you, he’s getting something out of it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Maybe it’s fine.”

“Or maybe it’s not,” Noah muttered.

Joe didn’t push back.

They reached the gate. Joe hopped on his bus, Noah hiked toward home.

Halfway there, Noah’s phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Unknown: Fourth floor library. 4pm. Don’t be late.

Noah stared.

"How did Jay even get my number?"

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and kept walking.

"I'm going to kill Joe for giving him my number."

He just had to get through this year. Even if that meant making deals with people like Jay Vale.