Jamari was failing English, Coach was saying. 

He'd been pulling D’s and F’s at the end of last year, and if he failed his winter exams, he'd have to be benched at best.

Kicked off the team at worst. 

“Look, Jamari,” Coach Huber was saying, pulling off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky I let you on my team with those grades. This is varsity, son, and I can't take chances with kids who can't put in the work to keep their grades up. You understand me? You only get one chance.”

Jamari gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

“If you don't get up to at least a C by winter break, I can't keep you on my team. And if it drops at any point beyond that, we're talking a suspension, at least.”

Coach Huber wasn’t a big dude — when he was a player, he was only a cornerback — but he had piercing blue eyes that were normally intimidating as all hell, and right now? Downright terrifying. He was disappointed already, and they were only three practices into the year.

It was hard to hold eye contact with a man who looked like Jamari’s shitty-ass grades were about to cost him an entire Super Bowl, but it was Huber who looked away first, breaking the silence with a deep, deep sigh.

Coach’s hat cast a deep shadow across his face, and his body sagged a little, his arms braced on the table as if he needed to keep himself down, fingers folded in front of him. The lighting in the room made him look like an anime villain, with the way the sun's rays streamed through the gaps in his always cracked blinds. His wrinkles seemed deeper, like this conversation had aged him in the five minutes Jamari’d been in the room.

Jamari could only imagine how much worse his father's reaction would be.

“Miss Elliot suggested a tutor that should bring your grades up. She said that she believes in them, so I’m putting the onus on her if the tutor turns out to be crap.” Coach adjusted his hat and the sun hit his face. He looked his age again, for the moments he dragged his hands through his white hair — aside from the fact that he was about three bad days from being as bald as the mole rat from Kim Possible. “Obviously, I’m expecting most of the work to come from you. Don't get me twisted, Jamari, this isn't an opportunity to shift blame.”

He looked at Jamari expectantly, pointing the arm of his glasses at him. Jamari nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Anyway. Go to Ms. Elliot’s room after school, alright? She'll tell you anything you need to know.” Coach put his glasses back on and adjusted his hat, looking up at Jamari properly since he started talking.

The barrier between his eyes and Jamari’s felt like it amplified the weight of his gaze instead of blocking it. The sharpness of expectation made his blue eyes like a sword that hung over Jamari’s head — if he moved too much or too little or too fast or too slow, it would cut him into pieces.

The cold in the tips of his fingers made him pull them into a fist, listening to his knuckles crackle in the silence of the office. 

The boys had been rowdy outside, talking indiscernibly about things parts of Jamari wished he knew, different types of laughter breaking through the heavy quiet between Jamari and Coach Huber. Reyes laughed at something a deep voice says, “hee hee hee”-ing his way into the distance, replying with mirth in his naturally raspy voice. 

Slowly, the sounds of his teammates — of zipping bags and excited speech — faded slowly from the room, leaving Jamari with his coach’s breathing and the annoying-ass hum of the unnecessary air conditioning.

Ain't no wonder it was so cold in this goddamn room.

“Uh,” Jamari started, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the door. “Can I go?”

Coach just nodded, waving Jamari away without looking, beginning to tap at his computer as Jamari picked up his stuff to leave.

“See you, Coach.”

“See you at practice, Oh-Four.”

Jamari was failing English.

It was a fact he knew, had known, but now, it would not leave his head.

He was failing English, and it might just cost him his place on the team.

He was failing English and — fuck, his dad would be so pissed.

His dad was a hardass — according to Eddie Reyes, his best friend outside of Jazaiah and Apollo — and he'd be more angry about Jamari failing English than he had been about his sister getting a boyfriend. Especially since Coach Huber was saying it could get him kicked off or suspended in his first year of varsity.

“Scouts look for consistency, boy. If you ain't consistent with being at school, at practice, how they know you gon’ be consistent for them?”

It's what his dad always said, in his thick Louisiana drawl, always in the middle of one of his rants about Jamari not focusing enough on football-related things, and that the fact he wanted to see the newest Spider-Man movie was rooted in his hidden desire for self-sabotage in systematically destabilizing his team structure by… not hanging out with them for once.

But this time, it felt like damnation as it played in his head over and over, the idea that he could lose everything his dad had pushed on him — the idea he could lose his future — like a threat from God himself.

It was the same sort of guilt that crawled through his chest when he saw a boy he thought was cute, the same anxiety that seized his heart when he let himself imagine kissing a guy — his hands pulling at short hair and deep, breathy moans and—

He knew it was a fear of disappointing his dad, of failing at being Edwin LaBeau’s son, but it was too all-encompassing to analyze. It was too scary in its magnitude to even think about.

A pair of fingers pinched the skin between his brows, pulling back quickly before Jamari could successfully swat the hand away.

Jazaiah Walker. His bitchass cousin. (Not really.) “Stop having thoughts, Squidboy. You’ll for real hurt yourself.”

Jamari rolled his eyes, and gritted his teeth. How on god’s fucking chartruse Earth did he hang out Jazaiah? “Stop calling me that, weirdo.”

“What would you prefer?” Jazaiah grinned, showing big ass teeth. “‘Jamari Calamari’? I think that one has a nice ring to it.”

“What is wrong with you? Just call me my name, bruh.”

“Jamaramari.” Apollo didn't even look up from his phone to give his totally useless statement. “Calajamari.”

Jamari scoffed, leaning forward, “Why are you cosigning him?!”

“Yeah, man. Apollo-gize.” Reyes slammed his lunch tray on the table, ‘hee hee hee’-ing at his own joke.

Jamari just groaned, throwing his head back.

“Ed-fred!” Jamari smiled, dapping Reyes up as he sat down. “What’s good, man!”

Eduardo Juan “Fuego” Reyes was Jamari’s third best friend (even though if Jamari was actually ranking them, Mr. Nickname over there would be fucking 106th out of three), and the only one he was actually close to on his football team. He was the backup QB, with a senior named Todd Bateman (Jamari hated that guy, honestly), being their main. 

He and Jamari where what Apollo liked to call “state-mandated besties,” since they'd become close with their dads deciding to try and make them a star play-making duo. Apart from the fact that he was the only one of his friends Jamari hadn't managed to get into comics or manga (“It’s just a picture book for big boys, ese. Let's be honest.”), Reyes was as much of a ride-or-die as Jazaiah — who he’d known as long as he’d been in this city. Reyes trusted Jamari would be where he needed him, and Jamari trusted Reyes the exact same.

(Except when he was around Jazaiah. They were evil together.)

“So, Calamarito, what’re you thinking about?” Reyes said, his eyes wide with concern like he wasn't actively betraying Jamari by accepting a dap from a snickering Jazaiah. 

“He’s failing English.” Apollo furrowed his brow at his phone, mumbling the words as he jabbed at it with his thumbs, probably arguing with fake hip-hop heads on the internet. 

Wait— “How the fuck did you know that.”

“It’s my job to know, Squid-Mari… This guy’s a stupid-ass bitch. What is wrong with him?!”

“Ion know, man,” Jazaiah said, shaking his head at the comment Apollo was showing him before looking back up at Jamari. ”Bro, you aren't even failing. ‘D’ is for ‘did a’ight’ so I really don't get why they saying you failed.”

Jamari sighed, shaking his head. His shoulders slumped. “Nah, I got more F’s than D’s—”

“Hold on,” Apollo interrupted, looking up from his phone for the first time, staring Jazaiah right in his eyes, absolutely bewildered. “Who in the fuck told you that?”

“Told me what?”

“The “what a D means” thing?”

Jazaiah shrugged, turning back to Jamari. “Mari, man, ain't failing, like, unacceptable? You getting kicked off the team?”

His eyes were big and scared, leaning forward with his hands braced on the table like he was gonna spring and hug Jamari across the table, and Jamari let that comfort him. 

His friends cared, at least. 

Apollo liked Lil Nas X. 

Maybe it'll be fine. 

Reyes, on the other hand, looked fucking devastated. “Mierda, are you actually leaving, bro? I can't do this shit without you! Fucking Feigle runs like he's wearing sandals, man. I don't wanna be stuck with him.”

Jamari let himself laugh a little. “Nah, I'm not getting kicked off. Ms. El’s got me a tutor. But if I don't get my grades up, I’ll be off by next semester.”

“Thank God, man,” Reyes groaned with relief, before his face snapped into seriousness. ”Don’t let me end up with fucking Danny Feigle as my running back.”

“So!” Apollo slapped his phone on the table in a way that belied his chipper tone, folding his hands on the table with exaggerated interest. “You know who the tutor is?”

“Man,” Jazaiah interjected, looking into the distance with his hands clasped like he was some maiden in a tower, “I hope it's Dominique Richards. She's so smart and hot.”

Apollo smacked him in the back of his head, kissing his teeth. “That’s your fantasy, dumbass!”

“Yeah, man, don't push 'em on me.” Jamari smiled genuinely for the first time that day. “Anyway, nah. I don't know who it is. Coach ain't even say ‘he’ or ‘she’ or nothing.”

“Well, it could be Reyne from Zai’s lit class then,” Reyes said thoughtfully. “They’re pretty cute.”

Jamari’s cheeks heated up at their name. They were cute. And he’d liked them all of freshman year, before he found out they preferred girls. He was glad he was dark skinned, since that blush would definitely have gotten him bullied if it had been visible. “I literally just said I don't know. Do y'all not know what that means?”

He noted the fact that Reyes had used the right pronouns for them though, placing it in the “might be safe to tell them” box in his head, right next to Jazaiah saying he’d go down on Michael B. Jordan and regular Michael Jordan.

Apollo, Jazaiah and Reyes just shrugged in unison, grinning at each other. (Except that whatever Apollo had on his face was more of a smirk, but it was equivalent enough.)

Jamari just sighed. “I’ll let you know when I know.”

“We trusting you, Calajamari!”

“That was literally the worst one.”

Maybe they were all dumbasses, but at least they took his mind off of it.

Oh, fuck he was thinking about it again.

Jamari was failing English, is what Ms. Elliot was telling him.

He was failing Literature, primarily, but Language Arts was just as bad.

He didn't know how to structure an essay, and he sucked at analysis, and he clearly knew nothing about any of the texts, and he was just dumb, actually.

Jamari was stupid.

He was dumb.

“...Now I don't want you to think that you're stupid, or anything,” Ms. Elliot was saying, like she'd read his mind, “I just don't think that the way you've been taught really works for you in the way it needs to. And that is nowhere near on you.”

Yeah. Sure. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Look, I’ve only taught you since last semester, so I don't know you yet, but I feel like the person I’ve asked to tutor you will be able to do so well. They know the content, and they're really good at explaining in an accessible way.” 

He was getting a nerdy ass kid. He knew it. They were gonna know he played football and they were gonna treat him like he was some dumbass jock and they weren't gonna take him seriously.

This was bound to suck absolute ass.

“I really trust them to help you, genuinely.” Ms. Elliot continued, smiling gently, patting Jamari gently on his folded hands. She lifted up her body, like she was looking over Jamari’s head, speaking louder, “Isn’t that right, Lucas?”

Jamari turned, confused.

It was only him and her in the room, what— “Holy sh—!”

There was a kid sat at the back of the room.

He was leaned forward on the desk with his face on his palm, like he'd been there a while and got bored.

Jamari dragged a hand down his face. “How long have you been here, man?!”

“Hi.” The kid who was Lucas just waved politely like he hadn't scared Jamari’s balls off, and introduced himself. “I’m Lucas Choi, and I guess I’ll be tutoring you this semester.”

His voice was way deeper than Jamari thought it would be, and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he spoke was a little distracting. His voice had the richness of someone speaking in their deeper register, but he wasn't rasping or trying too hard.

It was the kind of voice that he would be thinking about for many, many reasons.

“I’m Jamari.” He responded when he’d gotten his heart rate to chill the fuck out. 

Lucas had short cropped hair that spiked up like it wasn't used to being that way and neither was he — because he clearly ran his hands through it a lot. It looked soft, though, like he took care of it. A black earring hung from one of his ears, and he fiddled with it a little, tugging gently on the lobe.

He kinda looked like a cat, if Jamari thought about it.

He waved the thought away quickly.

It was bad he was even thinking about his voice, he couldn't have a face attached to it in his very normal and rational thoughts.

“You’re on the football team, right? Jazaiah’s friend?” Lucas asked, in his stupidly deep voice.

“Uh,” Jamari said, articulately. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Oh, I’m on the basketball team.” He stood up, walking towards the desk, “Point guard.”

Lucas sat down next to him, dapping him up with a quick smile.

“Well, as previously mentioned,” Ms. Elliot continued with a smile, “This is Lucas! He’ll be your tutor! He’s actually new here, but I trust that he can do this with you. We'll have the first few sessions at school, after both of your practices or just after school, and then after that, the two of you can work out times and location and whatever else later, alright?”

Lucas smiled and nodded.

Knowing he was new made Jamari’s anxieties lessen. He wouldn’t have any of the predjudices about him as others would. He would start with basically no expectations, and Jamari could definitely work with that.

This might just be pretty good after all.