I'll Fight My Corner

The final bell rang and I clenched my sore hand in and out of a fist, trying to shake the pain out of them. In class essays were quite a task and more than a little stressful on the fingers to complete. It felt as if my hand was permanently poised in a writing position, but I knew that eventually, the stiff feeling would go away.

I headed to the tutoring room to look at my schedule for the day. There was one of my regulars and three extra names I scanned over quickly, barely seeing them. I wondered what caused Ryan - one of the kids I met with every day - to be absent as I walked in, only to be greeted by the faces of those already being tutored looking up to see who had entered.

Blushing slightly, I sat down at a vacant table and waited for the first student to arrive.

Joey came and sat down, smiling. "Hi."

Joey was one of the closest things I had to a friend. He was gay, a fact well known and accepted throughout the school. He was also in my grade, making it easy to talk and relate to him. Though we connected well in the tutoring room, we barely talked outside. It was understood that we each had our own lives.

"Hey," I replied. "What are we working on today?"

Joey mentioned something about Trigonometry and Gatsby, but I barely heard it. To me, he was speaking in whispers that competed with my roaring thoughts about Harry.

He was unlike anyone I had ever met before. He was much like a hyperactive squirrel once prodded. Harry never seemed to stop smiling and charming his way through every situation he faced, as if that was all he had to help him get by.

I didn't know what to think of him, but if I was being honest -

"Emmalee?"

I blinked. "Yeah?"

"I said, how do you use the double angle formula?"

I closed my eyes and sighed, pushing away thoughts I hadn't even realized were pulling me in so deep.

"Are you okay?"

I swatted his concern away, as if it were a fly that could be diminished with a flourish of the hand. "I'm fine. Sorry."

"I've never seen you like this," he mused as he peered curiously up at me from his glasses.

"It's nothing, really."

He raised his eyebrows. "Has Emmalee got a new friend?" Joey's tone changed on the last word, causing me to roll my eyes.

"No, actually. But I'm going to have a new enemy if he doesn't get on with his Trig assignment."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay."

Joey and the two students after him - Sasha and Laura - eased through their sessions and I crossed their names off the list. The last one triggered a double take, as I had seen it before.

Well, actually, it had been running through my mind all day.

Next to his name, there was a dash, indicating a note from the tutoring coordinator.

4. Harry Styles - asked specifically for you.

While entering, he took his time, which I rolled my eyes at, but once he sat down at the table, he simply smiled at me.

"You look awfully cheerful."

His smile widened and he replied, "Yeah, why don't you?"

I just sighed and admitted I was tired. To my surprise, his eyebrows furrowed in concern and he murmured, "What's wrong, Emma?"

My eyes widened and I leaned a little further back into my chair. "Nothing," I mumbled.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something different about Harry. None of the boys I had ever talked to displayed that much concern for me when I was simply tired. He was different when he was sober. He still displayed all of the mischevious and slightly cocky traits from last night, but today he was more understanding and observant.

"I hope it's not because you had to pick me up and take care of me and stuff. I would hate that. I'm so sorry, Emma."

My eyes got even wider and I bit my lip.

This was weird. He was too nice. Way too nice.

"No, no. It's fine." I sat up straight and waved his concern away with my hand.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, but I decided to ignore it.

"So, what subject did you need help in?"

"Ehm..." he trailed off, "I think...well, everything really. Like, um..." He tapped a finger on his chin and looked up, seriously considering what it was he needed assistance with.

His voice was deep for a 17 year old's. Or was he 18? I didn't know. But he talked so slow - it was agonizing. It seemed like there was a pocket of silence between every word or phrase he spoke and it was driving me half crazy.

"Harry, did you sign up for my help without knowing exactly what you needed?"

He just shrugged and shot me a grin, which I figured had to be patented or something. I'd never seen one like it.

I just rolled my eyes, but this time with a small smile. His cheeriness was contagious.

"What classes do you have?"

"Well, I have Pre-Calculus, Government/Economics, French 3, Photography, and Literature."

A surprised look washed over me as I said, without thinking, "You're in Literature? AP Literature?"

He looked slightly offended and I instantly felt terrible for underestimating him.

"Yes," he huffed. "Do I not look like I'm capable?"

I shook my head. "You do. You do. That's not what I meant. I just didn't know you cared to be in - like, I didn't - I mean - you -" Oh, God. Here we go with the stuttering. I started to breathe a little faster and my knee started to bounce up and down. My hands curled into fists and I fidgeted in my seat. I was embarrassed and I couldn't hide it.

As I stumbled upon my words, he started to smile. He reached across the table and patted my balled fist with his hand, which I still couldn't comprehend the size of.

He noticed my white knuckles and his eyebrows once again furrowed in concern and he attempted to gently open my fists.

The minute his fingers slipped under mine, I pulled my hands away and kept them in my lap, under the table. I focused on the phrases people had scratched into the table top, completely ignoring the look on Harry's face. It was a mix between confusion and curiosity, and I didn't want to know what would come next.

But instead of saying another word, he simply pushed his chair out and stood. I peered up at him, slowly unwinding.

"I'm sorry for startling you, Emma. I'll see you next week?"

I just nodded and watched him turn around and walk away.

I sighed and ran a hand over my face.

I had known the kid for less than 24 hours and he had already made me stutter and make a fool out of myself. It must have been a record.

As I gathered my things, I looked down at my binder and noticed a folded up piece of paper that I had no recollection of slipping inside the plastic sleeve.

I slid it out and unfolded it only to find somewhat neat writing that was in all capitals. Whoever wrote it - and I had a slight feeling that I already knew who it was - didn't use the lines on the paper but instead wrote in whatever area he felt was fitting.

It read: "Hiii Emma! Thank you for letting me stay at yours last night. I really appreciate it. And for showing me the tunes in your car. And for the tissues I didn't take. AND for letting me smoke outside your car. You're a pal. Harry .xx"

This was his elaborate thank you note?

I folded it back up and stuck it in the inside pocket of my binder, smiling slightly, and got ready to leave.