Luke Peemsan

Rule #1: Don’t tutor the guy who called you a "glorified flashcard" in front of the whole class. Rule #2: Definitely don’t tutor him when he’s the only one who can make you break and actually laugh. But here I am. Luke Peemsan. Debate champion. Chaos in a varsity jacket. My new tutoring assignment. He shows up 10 minutes late every time. Coffee in one hand, messy notes in the other, hair like he just rolled out of bed. He argues with every formula. Calls me "Professor Stick-in-the-Mud" when I make him redo a problem. He doodles in the margins instead of taking notes. He asks if integrals will be on the test, then asks if _I_ will be at the game Friday. He’s loud. He’s infuriating. He’s failing Physics because he’d rather be sleeping or playing basketball. But he also stays until 9pm. Because he’s terrified of failing and losing his scholarship. Because when he finally gets a concept right, his whole face lights up and he goes "wait... I actually get it?" like it’s a miracle. I told myself I’d do this for the volunteer hours. I didn’t tell myself I’d start saving him a seat in the library. I didn’t tell myself I’d start looking forward to Wednesdays just to hear him complain for 45 minutes straight. Enemy. Tutor. And the boy I can’t stop tutoring 15 minutes past our session time.