Four Of A Kind

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 times. We were averaging a 33% success rate, which was somehow 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 time.

The chair across from me 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 seemed 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 messages. No explanation. Nothing.

My contract stipulated that Cassidy’s GPA needed to increase by 0.5 points by semester’s end. Her current GPA was 2.4. That meant dragging her to at least 2.9.

7:15 PM.

I pulled up Cassidy’s contact. Typed a message.

Library. Now.

The response was immediate.

Read 7:15 PM.

No words. No emojis. No acknowledgment of my existence beyond the fact that she’d seen the message and chosen to ignore it.

Troublesome.

I stared at the ceiling. The painted mural overhead depicted some 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. Someone 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 game 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 basement level. State-of-the-art equipment. 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 chimes.

Mrs. Tanaka stood at the counter, arranging items in a refrigerator that could comfortably fit three adult humans.

“Excuse me.”

She turned. Her expression shifted from neutral to warm recognition. “Ah. The new assistant. Looking for something?”

“Someone, actually. Cassidy.”

“That one.” Mrs. Tanaka shook her head with the weariness of someone 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 same one from last week. She’d been playing the same game—some 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 me. “I don’t want to study. You can’t make me 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 me.

The leather creaked under my weight.

Cassidy’s eyes flicked toward me for half a second. Then back to her game.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“Why are you sitting?”

“Because standing seemed exhausting.”

“Go sit somewhere else.”

“This chair is comfortable.”

Her jaw tightened. She returned her focus to the screen. The boss battle continued. Her character, some kind of sword-wielding warrior, dodged attacks.

I watched.

She ignored me.

One minute passed.

Two.

Five.

The boss battle ended. Victory screen. Triumphant music. Cassidy saved her progress and immediately started a new quest.

Ten minutes.

The room was very quiet. Just the tinny sound effects from her game 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 met mine. There was fire in them. Challenge. The same look she’d given me in the homeroom on the first day of school.

“Watch me.”

She returned to her game. Her focus became aggressive. Her thumbs jabbed at buttons with unnecessary force.

I watched.

Fifteen minutes.

A pillow hit me 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 me! 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?”