Reunited(2)

He smiled. “No, of course not. You’re a model student.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

Mr. Phillips chuckled, shaking his head, and part of his comb-over fell over one ear. “You weren’t really worried about that, were you?”

“No. Not really, but you never know.”

He nodded. “I called you here because I need your help, Kathryn.”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“We have a student who needs a tutor. I think you might be the best fit.”

“Oh? Who is the student?”

“Brett Falcone.”

“The Italian Stallion?” She clamped her hand on her mouth. Not the thing to say to the senior guidance counselor.

Mr. Phillips, however, let out a laugh. “Yes. The Italian Stallion. He’s failing math, Kathryn. If he doesn’t get his grades up, he can’t play baseball. Our team needs him.”

“You’re kidding, right? I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you want me to tutor Brett Falcone so he can play baseball? Why are sports so important, Mr. Phillips? Why isn’t it important that he learn math because it’s math? Math is a lot more useful in life than batting a ball.”

Kathryn was overreacting, but still she seethed. The emphasis schools put on athletics angered her. She’d never been good at sports, was always the last picked for any team in gym class, had revered the day, sophomore year, when she’d finished the last required physical education class of her high school career. No doubt all the jocks and jockettes had revered that day, too. No longer would they be saddled with the class nerd on any of their teams.

“Normally, I’d agree with that assessment,” Mr. Phillips said, “but he’s already been offered a scholarship to play baseball at OSU. If he doesn’t get his Math grade up, he won’t get the scholarship.”

“A scholarship?” Kathryn shook her head. Brett Falcone would never make it in college. Clearly, he was barely making it through high school. “So you want me to tutor him and get his math grade up so he can play in college?”

Phillips cleared his throat again and his cheeks reddened. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“I think I might be too busy. I have my own grades to think of, you know. And the newspaper and—”

“We all know you’ve already been admitted to Stanford. Your grades at high school level no longer matter.”

Kathryn opened her mouth, but Mr. Phillips held up his hand.

“You’re an incredibly gifted young lady, Kathryn. Your grades won’t suffer for helping another. You know that as well as I do.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Phillips, I cannot help Brett Falcone. He and I have a…history.”

“A history?”

Mr. Phillips’s bulgy eyes bulged out even farther. No doubt he was wondering what kind of history the Italian Stallion could possibly have with Kathryn Zurakowsky, nerd extraordinaire.

“Yes.”

“May I ask what kind of history?”

“Not a good one and nothing I care to talk about.”

“How would you have a history? You don’t run in the same crowds. Do you even know Brett?”

Did she know Brett Falcone? Know was such an innocuous word. It didn’t describe her relationship with Brett Falcone. Granted, once they’d gotten to high school, he’d left her alone. Middle school, though, had been hell on earth, courtesy of the Italian Stallion.

But Mr. Phillips didn’t know that and Kathryn had no desire to enlighten him.

“I’m afraid I have to decline,” she said. “I’m sure you can find another tutor for Brett.”

“Kathryn, there isn’t anyone else who can tutor him.”

“That’s ridiculous. How about Leon Bates? He’s as good in math as I am. Seth Connors might even be better. Or do you want a female tutor? How about Mary Beth Rogers? She’s pretty good. Or Amy Eckard.”

“All fine students,” Mr. Phillips said, “however none of them are acceptable.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” He sighed. “Brett refuses to work with anyone but you.”

She widened her eyes. “Me? That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Brett hasn’t said a word to me in four years.”

“Believe me, I’m as flabbergasted as you are.” Mr. Phillips nodded. “But Coach Henderson said Brett would only agree to a tutor if it was you.”

Kathryn’s jaw dropped open. What in the world was Brett Falcone thinking?

“Well, it just so happens that I don’t give a hoot whether Brett Falcone gets to play baseball in college, so the answer is no.”

“Kathryn.” Mr. Phillips rose and came around to face her. “There’s more at stake than that.”

“Oh?”

“His family has suffered a setback. His father was injured on the job a few weeks ago.”

“I’m very sorry, but—”

“A scholarship would be a great help to Brett and his family. Otherwise, if Brett doesn’t go to school, he’ll probably have to get a job and help support his family.”

“Maybe that’s his lot in life.”

“Maybe so. But he can have so much more. Brett Falcone is not stupid. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he scored in the ‘superior’ range in the state-administered tests. The boy just needs some guidance, some hope for a future. You can help him.”