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“Oh my God, Quinn, would you hurry up?!” Vic glanced at his watch - 6:46. Fourteen minutes until the library closed, and he lost his chance with Monica forever. “What’s taking so long?”
Quinn inched his square-framed glasses down his broad nose with a slim finger and raised a bushy eyebrow. “If you think you can do this any faster, Vic, be my guest.”
Vic groaned internally. Quinn’s pride was bruised so easily. He raised his hands placatingly. “Sorry, man,” he said, forcing a sheepish grin. “But we’re almost out of time!”
“Thought so,” Quinn said, pushing his glasses back in place. “I’m almost in. You just watch for Mrs. Big-Nose and run defense if she gets too close.”
The concept of his friend calling Mrs. Jones – the head librarian – big-nosed when Quinn himself had a sausage-like snout struck Vic as deliciously hypocritical, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
6:47 now - time was running out. Vic pictured his summer plans souring like curdled milk. After this summer, his dream girl would move to Florida to attend The University of Miami, and he was a year behind her. If he didn’t get her to fall in love with him before she left, he might never have the chance.
The problem was his abysmal grades. He wasn’t exactly failing, but after the last report card, Vic’s parents had warned if he didn’t bring them up, he’d spend half the summer grounded and the other half with a tutor, leaving him no time to pursue his love interest. As far as Vic was concerned, he’d made a heroic effort this last quarter, pulling most of his class averages up to a solid C. He only had two D’s, but he was sure that even though they were in unimportant classes – Math and Science – his parents wouldn’t see it that way.
Well, I’m not letting them stand in the way of my destiny, Vic thought fiercely, rechecking his watch. 12 minutes left. He resisted the urge to ask Quinn how he was progressing and settled for looking over his shoulder instead, but that only made Vic want to scratch his head. Quinn had half a dozen windows open with what amounted to little more than gibberish to Vic, so he stepped away before giving himself a headache.
Right on time to see Mrs. Jones headed their way.
Shit! Vic thought. His eyes flicked nervously between the monitor and the approaching calamity with the admittedly big nose. Gotta distract her! He leaned over and whispered a warning to Quinn – who waved him away lazily – and then weaved around the desks to intercept the head librarian.
Mrs. Jones’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Vic drew close, the corners of her mouth wrinkling as she glanced from Vic to Quinn and back again. Vic swallowed and put on what he hoped was a charming smile.
“Hello, ma’am! Can you help me find a book on native flowers?” Mrs. Jones raised an eyebrow. Vic felt his cheeks warming but pressed on. “N-Not for me,” he stammered. I need it for — uh — my mom. Her garden, I mean.”
At first, Vic wondered if Mrs. Jones had heard him, but when he opened his mouth to repeat himself, she tilted her head to look over his shoulder at Quinn, then fixed Vic with a piercing stare. “Young man, did you know,” she asked matter-of-factly, “that in Georgia, you can be prosecuted for surfing pornography on a county-owned computer?”
Vic thought his jaw might hit the floor. “Wh-what? We aren’t looking at porn!”
The librarian continued to peer at him through hooded eyes as if waiting for him to break. He shifted uncomfortably, aware of how red his ears must be and unable to meet her gaze. Finally, she nodded, and Vic felt a flood of relief.
“What book are you looking for then?”
“Umm, I don’t really know, ma’am,” Vic replied, scratching the back of his scalp. Why the hell hadn’t he thought about that before coming to the library? “Could you maybe recommend one for me?”
To Vic’s relief, that worked. Mrs. Jones pursed her lips and pointed at Quinn. “You and your friend need to wrap it up, young man. The library closes in 5 minutes. Wait by the desk, and I’ll see if I can rustle up something for you on your way out.”
5 minutes?! Vic tried not to let the panic show on his face as he hurriedly returned to Quinn’s side. He better be in by now!
Quinn was smart – brilliant, actually – but did things at a pace that made Vic want to pull his hair out. His friend was a straight-A student but often needed extra time to complete tests and would spend hours longer on projects than anyone else. Quinn was a plotter. Vic preferred playing the game of life by the ear. Things were much easier that way.
Quinn’s head raised as Vic approached, and the gleam of triumph in his brown eyes made Vic want to pump a fist in the air. “Told you I could do it,” he chortled.
Vic stared at the screen with wide eyes. In the browser was a simple website titled ‘Student Information.’ A generic photo at the top of the page showed a smiling teenage girl bent studiously over her desk, scribbling something on paper. Under that were three rectangular bars. The left one was labeled ‘last,’ the middle one ‘first,’ and the far right ‘student id.’ Beneath these were blue underlined links: Student File, Teacher Notes, and finally, Grades.
Giving Quinn a playful slap on the arm, Vic whooped in excitement. “I knew you could do it, man!”
“Damn right,” Quinn gloated. He blew a puff of air against his knuckles and wiped them on his shirt above the chest. “Bill Gates doesn’t have shit on me.”
“Yeah, you know it!” Vic clapped his friend heartily on the shoulder. “We should change your name to Neo! Now hurry, we got, like, three minutes left!”
Quinn flexed his fingers and clicked inside the first rectangle. He typed ‘Davis,’ then clicked in the middle box and typed ‘Victor’ – using a one-finger technique to type that most people stopped using after kindergarten. Vic wanted to tell Quinn to hurry the hell up but again held his tongue. Quinn clicked the magnifying glass and the ‘Grades’ link underneath.
And there they were — all of Vic’s grades listed alphabetically by subject. There was a tiny box with a grade letter inside for each quarter underneath every subject. The first three boxes were grayed out, but the fourth allowed changes. Quinn went through them all, assigning Vic an ‘A’ in each, then moved his mouse to close out the window.
“Wait,” Vic hissed. “One more!”
Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Who?”
“Monica Hernandez.”
“Monica?!” Quinn’s head shook in bewilderment. “Why? You don’t even know her!”
But Vic did know her – just not in the strictly traditional sense. He’d loved her since the start of freshman year, when he’d seen her in a yellow sundress, standing beside the school’s water fountain in the courtyard. A girl with warm terra-cotta brown skin and curly raven-colored hair framing a perfectly smooth, round face – the face of an angel.
Unfortunately for Vic, he was about as smooth with members of the opposite sex as a desert cactus. Still, fortunately, he was also the Picasso of procrastination, so no biggie. He could put off approaching his dream girl for another day.
Except a day had turned into a month and then into two years. Now, his window of opportunity was closing rapidly. What if he never got to talk to her at all?
“I’ll tell you later,” Vic insisted. “Just do it, man, hurry!”
Quinn shrugged, and after a few excruciatingly long seconds that made Vic want to push his friend aside and do it himself, Monica’s grades were on the screen. Hers were much better than Vic’s - 5 A’s and 2 B’s.
Vic pointed to the B under Chemistry. “That one. Change it to an A, and let’s get out of here!”
Quinn saved the changes, and suddenly, Vic felt better than he had all week. He’d successfully pushed back the expiration date on his love life by a few months. With time and a little luck, he’d push it back indefinitely.
***
Three days later, Vic sat at a school table during lunch, watching Monica chat with a friend. He’d never felt less like eating and thought he might vomit. Sooner or later, he’d have to work up the courage to tell Monica what he’d done. Tomorrow was the last day of school.
Quinn nudged him in the ribs. “Go talk to her, man!”
“I can’t!” Vic nodded toward Monica’s friend. “Not until she leaves!”
“I don’t think you have that luxury, Vic,” Quinn countered. “Shoot your shot, man. It’s now or never!”
Vic nodded. Quinn was right, and the plan was foolproof. Last week, Vic overheard Monica’s girlfriend console her about losing a fully paid scholarship. Monica, it seemed, had been counting on straight A’s to push her weighted GPA to 3.9, which would meet U.M.’s scholarship requirement, but she’d received a B in chemistry. They’d still pay 75 percent of her tuition, but that meant Monica would have to work summer jobs to pay for the rest.
It was a sign from heaven. Vic needed to improve his grades. Monica did, too, and it just so happened that his best friend was a computer genius. If Vic helped himself, he could help Monica, and if he helped her, she’d be so grateful that she wouldn’t care if he stuttered through their first conversation like a drunken idiot. Perhaps he could talk her into a date.
“She might even give me a kiss,” Vic muttered hopefully.
“Huh?”
Vic ignored his friend and took a deep breath. It had to be now. He stood stiffly and nearly tripped over the bench behind his knee, regaining his balance through sheer luck. His heart pounded like pistons in a race car. Calm down, he urged himself. Be smooth!
A deep voice he recognized spoke behind him. “Mr. Davis?”
Oh, no! Vic’s blood turned cold. He turned around, seeing a tall, clean-shaven, stern-looking man wearing a pin-striped suit – Principal Stevenson.
“Come with me, young man,” he said, and Vic felt his hopes shatter like glass against the linoleum.
***
Later, Vic stood at his locker, numbly cleaning out its contents. Suspended, he thought grimly. To be carried over into next year. Man, life was going to suck so hard for the next few weeks.
It had been just as he feared. They’d found the discrepancy in his grades - primarily due to one giant mistake. He’d aimed too high, allowing Quinn to change his grades to A’s instead of the minimal he needed to keep his parents off his back. What an idiot!
Quinn found him by the lockers and raised an eyebrow. “Caught, huh?”
“Yeah,” Vic sighed, “but don’t worry, I didn’t give them my accomplice. They offered to shorten my suspension if I did, but I wasn’t about to give up my best friend. You should probably keep your head down, though. There’s no way they don’t suspect you. No one believed I could hack the school on my own.”
“I didn’t think you would,” Quinn said. Then, grinning, he handed Vic a folded slip of paper. “This is for you.”
Inside, a phone number had been written in delicate script. Vic’s eyes widened. “Is this –“
“Monica’s number, yeah,” Quinn chuckled. “After you left, I decided to intercede on your behalf and told Monica what you’d done. She was shocked and pissed at first, but as you can see, I smoothed it over.”
Suddenly, Vic’s summer didn’t seem so bleak. “Ah, man, you’re the best, Quinn!”
“I know,” Quinn agreed. “She says to call her if your parents ever let you out of prison.”