On the verge of failing his senior year of high school, Armando is set up with a tutor to get his grades back up. His tutor, Brian, happens to be the quiet kid that he never knew existed until now. And as the two begin to form a deep connection with...
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Brian Hazelwood
When the final bell rang and it was time to leave, I got up and went towards the door.
“Brian! May I speak with you!” My government teacher, Ms. Estelle, called me. I gave Armando a glance telling him to continue and that I’ll see him later. I walked over to my teacher’s desk and stood next to it.
“Is there anything wrong?” I asked.
“Not at all! I just want to thank you. I’ve seen the work you’ve done with Mr. Dominguez. He’s certainly doing better in class.” She said. I was looking at the paper behind her because I hate looking people in the eye.
“Yeah. Armando is a good kid.” I said.
“Indeed he is. Keep doing what you’re doing and he’ll graduate on time.” She said. I nodded at her and walked out of the class.
Later, I would describe the interaction with Amrando. He seemed to relish the fact that people are seeing him improving. The next two days, I had the pleasure of also hanging out with Rosita, the sweet little girl that is an exact version of Armando.
Armando couldn’t do Wednesday or Thursday for unknown reasons. But we were able to meet on Friday. However, the park was unavailable because an incident happened the day prior. This is when Armando offered his home.
It’s one thing to have to tutor the guy you’ve been crushing on for years. But it’s another when you tutor them in their own house and walk into the place they live in! He didn’t want to go somewhere like a diner because he felt that we would be distracted.
And thus, to his house we went.
“Call me if you hear any bullets. No matter how far they sound, you call me or the police!” Mom told me.
“I’m going to be fine, mom! I’ll call you when our session is over.” I replied.
“Still! Promise you’ll recognize any danger! And text me an ‘x’ if you want me to call the police for you!”
“I promise. Can I go now?” I asked.
“Go. I love you.” My mom said. I responded and exited the car.
I was faced with a simple small house. The grass on the outside was dead and some clutter was around. Armando’s motorcycle was in the driveway, meaning he was home. I walked up to the door and knocked on it. I waited a few seconds until Armando opened the door.
“Welcome.” He said. He stepped aside to let me in. I turned to my mom as she waved and drove off.
As I walked in, I noticed that the living room was spotless. There was a couch, recliner, coffee table, and a stand with a TV. Some picture frames hung on the wall. All of them were of Rosita.
Then I turned to Armando. He no longer wore his usual leather jacket and dark denim jeans. He instead changed into a black tank top that clung to his muscles perfectly, with the bottom of the shirt raised to show his abs and treasure trail. And he wore a 5 inch inseam short that clung to his thighs and didn’t leave an imagination to the weapon he wielded in his shorts.
