Chapter 44: [2.17] I Will Out-Stubborn the Problem Child
[Week 2: Tuesday - 6:45 PM]
Tutoring session number six.
Attendance record so far: Cassidy had shown up twice, arrived late once, and completely ghosted three tis. We were averaging a 33% success rate, which was sohow slightly worse than her actual grades.
I’d set up at one of the reading tables near the center of the room. Calculus textbook. English literature anthology. A notebook with color-coded tabs that I’d prepared specifically for Cassidy’s weakest subjects. Pens in three different colors. Highlighters.
I looked like a very sad, very organized person.
7:00 PM. The official start ti.
The chair across from
remained empty.
She’s probably just running late. Rich people run late. It’s a power move.
7:05 PM.
Still empty.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticked with the smug rhythm of expensive craftsmanship. Each tick seed to say: She’s not coming. You know she’s not coming. Why are you even here?
Shut up, clock.
7:10 PM.
I checked my phone. No ssages. No explanation. Nothing.
My contract stipulated that Cassidy’s GPA needed to increase by 0.5 points by sester’s end. Her current GPA was 2.4. That ant dragging her to at least 2.9.
7:15 PM.
I pulled up Cassidy’s contact. Typed a ssage.
Library. Now.
The response was imdiate.
Read 7:15 PM.
No words. No emojis. No acknowledgnt of my existence beyond the fact that she’d seen the ssage and chosen to ignore it.
Troubleso.
I stared at the ceiling. The painted mural overhead depicted so kind of classical scene. Gods and goddesses lounging on clouds, looking down at mortals with expressions of divine boredom.
Yeah. I know how you feel.
I gathered my materials. Shoved everything into my bag. Left the library.
Cassidy’s room was on the second floor. East wing. Door with a dartboard attached to it. Soone had drawn a crude mustache on one of the photos pinned to the center.
I knocked.
No answer.
"Cassidy."
Still nothing.
I tried the handle. Locked.
Of course.
The ga room was next. Down the hall, past three identical portraits of disapproving ancestors. The door stood open. Inside: pool table, arcade machines, a massive television connected to every gaming console known to mankind.
Empty.
The gym was in the basent level. State-of-the-art equipnt. A punching bag that had clearly seen better days. Mirrors along every wall.
Also empty.
Where does one hide in a mansion with forty-seven rooms?
I made my way to the kitchen. The space was enormous. Restaurant-grade everything. Copper pots hung from ceiling racks like very expensive wind chis.
Mrs. Tanaka stood at the counter, arranging items in a refrigerator that could comfortably fit three adult humans.
"Excuse ."
She turned. Her expression shifted from neutral to warm recognition. "Ah. The new assistant. Looking for sothing?"
"Soone, actually. Cassidy."
"That one." Mrs. Tanaka shook her head with the weariness of soone who’d watched Cassidy grow up. "I saw her heading toward the east wing sitting room about twenty minutes ago."
"Thank you."
"Good luck, dear." She paused. "You’ll need it."
Encouraging.
The east wing sitting room turned out to be a small space tucked behind the main parlor. The kind of room that existed for no apparent reason except to give rich people more places to sit.
I found her.
Cassidy lay sprawled across a velvet couch. Her hair fanned out beneath her head in waves of wine-red and black. Her school uniform had been replaced with athletic shorts and an oversized band t-shirt. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, bare feet dangling over the couch’s arm.
The Switch in her hands was the sa one from last week. She’d been playing the sa ga—so fantasy RPG where she could be a hero instead of a failing student.
I understood the appeal. Escapism was easier than effort.
Too bad I wasn’t going to let her escape.
She didn’t look up when I entered.
"You’re late."
"I’m not late." Her thumbs moved across the controller. Eyes fixed on the screen. "I’m not coming."
"That’s not how this works."
"That’s exactly how this works." She still hadn’t looked at . "I don’t want to study. You can’t make
study. Go away."
Seven tutors.
Seven.
And I’m starting to understand the pattern.
I didn’t leave. Instead, I walked to the armchair positioned across from her couch. Sat down. Placed my bag on the floor beside .
The leather creaked under my weight.
Cassidy’s eyes flicked toward
for half a second. Then back to her ga.
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting."
"Why are you sitting?"
"Because standing seed exhausting."
"Go sit sowhere else."
"This chair is comfortable."
Her jaw tightened. She returned her focus to the screen. The boss battle continued. Her character, so kind of sword-wielding warrior, dodged attacks.
I watched.
She ignored .
One minute passed.
Two.
Five.
The boss battle ended. Victory screen. Triumphant music. Cassidy saved her progress and imdiately started a new quest.
Ten minutes.
The room was very quiet. Just the tinny sound effects from her ga and the distant tick of clocks throughout the manor. Rich people really loved their clocks.
Cassidy’s shoulders had started to bunch. The muscles along her neck looked tight.
She was trying very hard to pretend I didn’t exist.
Twelve minutes.
"Are you just going to sit there?"
"Yes."
"Forever?"
"As long as it takes."
"Takes for WHAT?"
"For you to realize that I’m not going anywhere." I crossed my arms. Settled deeper into the chair. "And the sooner you cooperate, the sooner we’re both done."
"I can ignore you forever."
"Can you?"
Her purple eyes finally t mine. There was fire in them. Challenge. The sa look she’d given
in the horoom on the first day of school.
"Watch ."
She returned to her ga. Her focus beca aggressive. Her thumbs jabbed at buttons with unnecessary force.
I watched.
Fifteen minutes.
A pillow hit
in the face.
"FINE."
The word exploded out of her like she’d been holding her breath.
"FINE. We’ll do your stupid studying." She sat up. "But I’m not going to learn anything!"
"We’ll see about that."
"I WON’T."
"Sure."
"Stop agreeing with ! It’s creepy!"
I stood. Retrieved my bag. Pulled out the materials I’d prepared.
"Do you want to do this here, or in the library?"
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