Chasing Butterflies Chapter 29: Help Wanted (Patreon)

Olivia frowned down at the half-finished sketch in front of her. The outline of a chocolate labrador gazed lovingly back at her, a long tongue lolling out of its mouth.

…Nope. Not dopey enough. He looks like he has at least twenty brain cells in there, not two.

A pencil twirled in her grip as she bent down to erase part of Moose’s mouth. The big dog’s name had proven quite apt—he’d been a large, slow dog, and bulky enough to make her legs buckle when he leaned on them. Though unlike his ornery namesake, Moose was gentle and loyal to a fault. He’d never so much as growled at the boys, no matter how much they tried to pull his ears and tail. So what if he didn’t quite understand that the hose wasn’t a demonic snake trying to shower him with acid? Or realize that hiding a treat behind her back didn’t make it vanish into thin air?

He was a good boy to the end. Even if Jason was right—he traded those brain cells for friendliness.

Would she be able to see Moose again? She remembered vaguely when they’d started looking to adopt a dog, but running across him had been a chance encounter on the way back from a road trip. She hardly remembered what town they’d been in, much less the particular shady van that had been offloading his litter. And if their timing was off, who was to say he wouldn’t get snatched up by someone else?

Olivia pushed the thoughts away—an effort that felt blissfully easy today. Instead, she smiled fondly at the adjusted image and bent down to add more detail as Mr. McCullough droned in the background. The portly man dragged a marker across the whiteboard with a rather unpleasant series of squeaks, marking it up with equations and graphs that she really didn’t care about.

Drawing Trisha had made her decide to branch out a bit and draw other subjects as well. Places, animals, other faces from her past—or future, technically. Though her family still made up the vast majority of her works. The only issue was the sheer amount of drawings she was generating. At this rate, her first notebook would be full before the end of the semester. It wasn’t a real problem, given that she had others, but still… It made her feel a little bit guilty about her lack of note taking.

I shouldn’t. Really, at least this way the notebooks are being used instead of just taking up space in my backpack. Then again, I hardly need to write things down with how many handouts some of these teachers insist on giving us…

Eventually, the teacher mercifully concluded the lecture and retrieved a stack of papers from his desk. “I have your graded quizzes here. Listen up for your names.”

Mr. McCullough began his usual routine of calling for each student as he passed the graded quizzes back. The room remained relatively quiet as he did, save for the occasional celebration or groan. Eventually he deposited a sheet on Olivia’s desk, and she glanced down at it. Only a single mark of red ink graced its surface—a “100” circled at the top.

It was no surprise. Given the trivial nature of the curriculum, she honestly would’ve been embarrassed to have missed anything. Still, it was a bit of a relief. This was her first test since returning to the past. If there was a time where she’d be smacked in the face by overconfidence, this was probably it.

And I got my last name right, too. Yippee for the little things.

Olivia moved to tuck the paper into her backpack when she heard a whisper from behind. “How’d you do?”

Looking over her shoulder, she met Bryce’s questioning gaze. She smiled and wordlessly showed him her paper.

The football player snorted and shook his head. “Of course. I shoulda known.”

She grinned, then hid her expression with a sheepish duck of her head. She was supposed to be shy. 

“How about you?”

The boy’s face broke into a grin as he proudly displayed his own quiz. A smattering of red X’s decorated its surface, but her attention immediately went for the number circled at the top. Seventy-eight.

Her eyebrows rose. “Nice! That’s almost a B!”

“I know, right?” Bryce puffed out his chest proudly. “That’s the best math grade I’ve got in… well, a while!”

It wasn’t a great performance by most measures. But considering what she’d seen of Bryce’s homework the week before, it was pretty significant progress. She even saw evidence of her help in some of the questions he’d gotten right.

She almost quipped back, but held her tongue. Hadn’t she just been chastising herself for not being shy enough? Surely she could do a little better than this. Instead, she simply nodded. “Congrats.”

“Congratulate yourself. No shot I could pull this off without you teaching my stupid ass.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not stupid. Don’t say that about yourself.”

“Uh-huh. You realize I’m here because I failed this class last year, right?”

“I know plenty of smart people who suck at math. And plenty of math geniuses who are absolutely hopeless at anything else.” Some of her old coworkers came to mind. “Just because math and you don’t get along doesn’t mean you’re an idiot.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, sure. Hey, what’s your worst subject?”

She thought about it. Probably Geography?”

“And what grade do you got there?”

Olivia grimaced as she saw where this was going. “Well… we haven’t had a test yet, just homework…”

“It’s an A, isn’t it?”

“...Yeah.”

Bryce grinned triumphantly as Olivia sighed. “That doesn’t mean I’m smart. I’m just good at school work.

“Uh-huh.” He rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

He obviously didn’t believe her—or if he did, he simply didn’t put much stock in her words. She sighed, but didn’t push the matter further.

She started to turn forward, thinking their conversation was over, when Bryce spoke up again. “Hey, uh… I got a favor to ask.”

Olivia stopped. “What’s up?”

Bryce lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you ever done tutoring?”

“No,” she lied. “Why?”

“First of all, you should. Second, I want to be your first customer.”

Olivia blinked. Bryce didn’t break eye contact.

“I mean… I already am tutoring you, aren’t I?” She deflected. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing in class?”

But he was already shaking his head. “Not the same. Don’t get me wrong, you’re helping me out a ton. But it ain’t enough time.”

He had a point. The last part of class only allowed Olivia five minutes to help the boy with homework examples, at most. Some days Mr. McCullough’s droning went all the way to the bell. She could definitely do more with more time. Still…

“...Why me?” She asked, already suspecting the answer. “There are plenty of other tutors out there.”

Bryce nodded. “Believe me, I know. And all of them are kind of shit. At least, all the local ones. I’ve tried most of the ones that advertise around town. None of them are half as good as you.”

Olivia started to nod, then stopped herself. Shy and humble, remember? Just because you have actual teaching experience now doesn’t mean you did back then!

Unfortunately for her, the momentary lapse didn’t go unnoticed. Bryce grinned. “See? You know it’s true!”

“No I don’t,” she shot back quickly. “I was just nodding because I understood.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

She glared at him and sighed, trying again for humility. “You really do have too much faith in me. And what’s with this ‘first customer’ business? You say that like it’s a given that I’ll have more than one.”

“You kidding?” Bryce scoffed. “Do you know how many football players are fucking stupid? We’ve got a reputation for a reason. Hell, as soon as a halfwit like me becomes a damn math whiz, they’re gonna line up and beg you for help, I’ll tell you that.”

The bell rang to signal the end of the period. All at once the room roared to life as students hurried toward the door and returned their voices to full volume. Bryce stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder. “Just think about it, ok? But don’t think about it too long. I might be kinda screwed on the next test without you.”

He cocked a smile before heading for the door. Olivia followed a few moments later, taking a moment to stow her notebook and test in her own bag. The football player’s request stuck with her as she meandered through Ridgeview High’s labyrinthine hills toward biology.

She didn’t really have any objection to helping Bryce. That’s why she was teaching him in the first place. But this was different. Actual tutoring? Extending their contact to situations outside of the classroom? That felt like a much bigger step. Not to mention the verbiage he was using. “Customer” certainly sounded like he intended to pay her—something she felt rather conflicted about.

It’s not like I’m using the money I already have. Then again, if I do end up investing for the sake of the kids, it would help build that seed fund more… And it’s not like I don’t have time. But I don’t need the money…

It was another change. Another alteration that she should be avoiding. Yet how big was it really? And besides, she’d seen the football player’s earnestness. He really did want to improve. He wanted to do better. He was doing better already.

Can I really be so callous and just refuse? When he’s asking for help? Especially if he’s out of options like he said…

Olivia sighed and berated herself. She shouldn’t even be considering this as an option. Yet here she was. The mother in her was having a whole lot of trouble ignoring a kid’s plight. Especially when that kid looked so much like her son.

The internal struggle continued into biology class. She mulled the question over, too distracted to even draw or listen much to Mr. Ambrose’s lecture. Not that she particularly needed to do either. Figuring out her future was far more pressing than “learning” about the scientific method, especially when she was confident she understood that particular subject more than any individual in the room—Ambrose included.

…I don’t have to tutor anyone else, no matter what Bryce says. I could turn down the others. But will I? Can I really see myself saying no to other kids who need help? Not that I would be able to help them all. I’m a better teacher now, but that’s not to say my teaching will click with everyone, even if he’s right…

She hardly noticed as the lecture ended and the class filled with the sounds of idle conversation and chatter. The bald biology teacher meandered about the room, passing back graded homework assignments as the students talked and occasionally chiming in with a quip of his own. He smiled at Olivia as he slid over her assignment—another hundred percent.

“You know…” The teacher’s booming voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper—at least, he tried. The result was more of a lowering of pitch than of volume.  “You don’t have to spend so much time on the homework.”

That roused Olivia from her musings. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate how thorough you are. But I can’t help but feel like you’re spending a lot of time on your answers.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve got more stuff on your plate than just this class. I’m just telling you that you can get away with a liiiittle less.”

Her mouth hung agape. She hadn’t been putting particular effort into the assignments. She’d finished this one off during lunch on Friday and still had time for Geography. If anything, she felt as though her answers were truncated by necessity. The little lined sections of the worksheets never felt quite long enough to contain the totality of what a proper response would entail.

“I… I wasn’t trying that hard. Really.”

Mr. Ambrose raised his hands in surrender. “Just saying! Up to you whether you change anything. Oh, and shhh. Don’t want anyone else thinking I’m encouraging laziness.”

He gave her one last smile and a wink before heading back toward the front of the class. Olivia sat there, stunned, for a long moment.

Am I… really being an overachiever? I mean, it’s not like I’m spending a lot of time on this stuff. I didn’t think I was…

Curiously, her gaze slid over to peek at her sleeping neighbor’s paper. The boy didn’t notice. He just kept snoring as Olivia scanned the one-word answers and sentence fragments that populated the front page.

Oh. Huh. Is that what he’s used to?

Apparently so. And judging by the matching “100” atop the boy’s paper, it was a completely acceptable tactic.

Well… Good to know, I guess? No college professor she’d ever had would accept anything less than complete sentences, partially because their questions demanded far more precision and rigor in their answers. But if things were different here…

I guess I’ll be doing homework even faster, then? But is it really worth saving that little bit of time?

She shrugged. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea. But did it really matter? This was the level of detail that she didn’t want to obsess over when walking in her old shoes, anyway.

Her attention flicked back to her neighbor’s homework and she smiled. Suddenly she felt way less conflicted about letting him sleep through class.

At least there’s one guy who doesn’t seem to need tutoring. Guess he really is just a bored smart kid.