My Best Friend

“Kyle, I know it’s early, but at least pretend to be awake.”

I snorted as Amanda Rockwell, my best friend, grabbed my hand, pulled herself up with a huff, and straightened her clothes—comfortable jeans, sneakers, and a blue tank-top—before grinning at me. She and I had been best friends since we were in third grade.

“I am awake,” I said. “You ran into me.”

She laughed at that, and we started walking. I always liked hearing her laugh. a lot of people say she’s pretty, though I never gave it a lot of thought. She certainly wasn’t ugly, or even plain. Amanda was the kind of girl a guy could be comfortable around, who I didn’t have to worry about being macho for. She had brown hair and brown eyes, like me, but she was a good four inches taller and had been since middle school.

“So,” she said. “First day of class. Woo.”

“Wow. The cheerleaders will be jealous of your enthusiasm.”

“Eh. Linear Algebra first thing in the morning will do that.” Amanda shrugged and adjusted her backpack. “You wanna meet up for lunch? I’m done with class at eleven.”

“Same here.” We reached the engineering building, but had to split in the lobby. Amanda hurried off to the math wing, while I made my way to my own classes.

Just like I’d thought, the first day of classes was a bunch of boring review I had trouble staying awake through. Finally, at a quarter to eleven, I slung my backpack over my shoulder again and followed the rush of students out the door.

“Just a moment, Kyle,” the instructor, Dr. Pulaski, said. I grimaced, then turned to face him. He was in his fifties, with gray in his short-cropped red hair and the fur on his bushy tail. His fox ears were so immobile I sometimes forgot they were real, his square face came in one expression—frowns—and his plain suit left no room for argument. He waited for the last of the other students to leave before he spoke again. “Kyle, I have an idea to help some of the younger students.”

My summer was good, I thought. Kinda boring, but could’ve been a lot worse. How was your break, Dr. Pulaski? Wife and kids okay? Get to visit with your grandkids?

“I’m looking for tutors for the lower-level classes. Digital Logic, Circuits, and Calculus. Are you interested?”

“You want me to tutor freshmen?” I asked.

“Correct, for six hours per week. We can put you in one of the classrooms that are empty. You’ll get paid whether students show up or not.”

“Ah. Well….”