Finally, my father returns home with Aaron and Peter. Aaron comes running over to me and hugs me, burying his face into my shoulder.

"Sorry we left you, Ry!" He says, his voice muffled slightly. "I tried telling daddy and Pete to wait for you but they wouldn't."

"It's fine, Aaron," I tell him, prying him off me. Dad and Peter walk around us and go straight into the house, not acknowledging my presence. "Come on. Let's get inside."


"For God's sake, Ryder, x equals 169!" Amy says loudly. I can tell that I'm frustrating her, but I'm trying. I'm trying really, really hard.

"Fine," I mumble, jotting it down next to the question that asked it. 

Amy was at my house for her first tutoring session of the year. Dad had made plans with her ahead of time to come over three times a week and help me out. Her pay was usually dinner, but tonight she'd be getting $5 instead. 

Honestly, I hate having her as my tutor. It's not that she's bad at it, but she gets frustrated when I can't answer a question. Which is often. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm just slacking off, but I'm trying my best.

She lets out a heavy sigh. "That's the last question," she states, flipping through her own homework to make sure. 

I lean back in my chair, dropping my pencil onto my desk in relief. I glance down at my watch. 7:09. She's been here for almost an hour, and her payment agreement with my father forced her to stay another half hour more.

"You can go do whatever you'd like," I tell her, motioning my hand carelessly towards the rest of my room.

She looked around and then shrugged. My room was extremely neat, with everything organized onto shelves or into containers and bins. The walls were beige; or at least, I think they are. I've been collecting posters and covering my walls and ceiling in them for a few years now. Most of my posters are of bands, but I also have some from television shows and books.

"There's nothing to do, really," she states after a few more moments of looking around.

"Well. I could play you a song on my guitar," I offer.

She nods, though she doesn't look too excited by the idea of it. I lean over and grab my guitar case, as I'd left it leaning against my bedroom wall last time I played it. Pulling it out, I began playing my favorite song, which was "Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace. 

I spend the next half hour of her paid time by playing various songs; some chosen by her, and some selected by myself. 

The End

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