by Dana Burkey
As always, Blake was wearing jeans and a hockey shirt. This one was for the Chicago Blackhawks, although it wasn’t clear if it was his favorite team. I had seen him sporting enough other team jerseys to know he basically liked all things hockey, all the time. Through the thin fabric of his shirt it was easy to see his muscles, formed from the hours on the ice and in the gym. He had a grey winter hat pulled low over his forehead covering his short brown hair. But even with it on I could see the confusion on his face. Over and over again he squinted his brown eyes or would nibble on his bottom lip. Occasionally he would even make his mouth into a little “o” as he raised one eyebrow and seemed to read the same line over and over. It made his usually strong and angular face look a bit silly to say the least.
“Done,” he said finally. He looked up at me and caught me looking at him, which caused me to instantly blush. It was a knee jerk reaction that I hoped he didn’t manage to notice.
“Alright, so what do we know after reading Act One?” I asked, taking a sip of coffee to distract from my still red face.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I only read the first two parts.”
“You mean the first two scenes?” When he nodded, I continued. “How did it take you that long to only read a few pages?”
“It’s not easy stuff,” Blake said as if to remind me. “These people don’t speak English.”
“Actually, they do,” I frowned. “They just spoke in a way you don’t understand.”
“No wonder people don’t read this stuff,” he commented under his breath.
“A lot of people read this stuff, as a matter of fact,” I corrected him instantly. “Shakespeare is one of the greatest playwrights in the history of recorded time and has contributed beautiful pieces of literature that have been world changing.”
For a second I almost continued to gush about Shakespeare, but I could tell Blake was getting bored. As I spoke, his eyes were wandering around the room, proving my words were falling onto deaf ears. With a sigh, I decided to not get mad and instead help him in the little ways I could with his few pages of reading.
“So, what did you learn in those two scenes?” I managed, putting on my best attempt at a smile.
“Well there were these witches,” he said simply. “And then there were a bunch of dudes talking.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “What were they talking about?”
“I don’t know.” Blake took a deep breath. “Why can’t we read something that makes sense?”
“It does make sense,” I assured him. “Do you know what happened right before the start of the play? The witches talk about it.”
“Was Macbeth lost?” I could tell by the look on his face that Blake was serious.
“No.” I struggled to see his logic. “Why would he have been lost?”
“Well, they were looking for him, right?”
I took in a long breath, then let it out slowly. Next, I took a sip of my coffee and closed my eyes while I swallowed it so I could once again enjoy the flavor before diving back into working with Blake. It was clear that it was going to take even more effort than I first believed.
“Why don’t we go over it line by line,” I suggested finally.
With a nod from Blake, we began reading each line then talking about what it could mean. The first scene alone took several minutes to go over, even with the dialogue pretty much explaining what was happening. But Blake just couldn’t get it. He asked me time and time again why they didn’t just say what they meant. And again and again I tried to tell him they were saying everything. They were just saying it in a different way than how we use English now.
“Are we done now?” Blake asked after we made it through the second scene.
“But we’re just getting to the good part,” I told him. It was a statement I often made about anything I was reading, but it especially held true to Macbeth. The moment Macbeth learned he was to be the future king was the moment for me that the real action of the play began. I didn’t bother explaining that to Blake, especially since it would just give him the answers on what was coming next.
“I’m really tired, and this stuff is giving me a headache,” he said gesturing to the book in his lap.
“Okay,” I replied slowly. “When are we going to meet again? You have a long way to go before you understand this story enough to pass a test.”
“Right,” he nodded. “Well, I have a hockey game out of town this weekend, so I don’t really have time until next week.”
“Tuesday again?” I asked, pulling out my day planner.
“I think so,” he said, looking off into the corner of the room as if the answer of his availability was written there. “I’ll message you, okay?”
“Or you can talk to me at school,” I reminded him.
“Sure,” he replied, although I could tell he didn’t like the idea much. “See you later.”
With that Blake got up and left the coffee shop. Despite the cold weather, he didn’t even have a coat, so he simply picked up his book and walked out the front door. I sat shocked for a second, then packed up my study materials and made my way to the exit as well. Texting my mom as I walked, I asked for her to come pick me up. Blake was nowhere in sight so I knew he must have either had a bike with him or gotten a ride. Either way, I was kind of glad I didn’t have to wait with him. As rude as his sudden exit had been, I figured the less time I had to spend with him, the better.
4
“He really hasn’t talked to you?” Lilly asked me Thursday afternoon as we sat in my bedroom enjoying snacks. “Like, not even a hello?”
“Nothing,” I told her yet again. “It’s like he doesn't even know I exist. I even tried to say good morning to him today and he just walked past me like I wasn’t there.”
“Why would he do that?” she asked, thinking it over as she popped another Oreo into her mouth.
“He’s too cool for anyone as nerdy as me.” The thought had occurred to me earlier in the week, but saying it out loud was a little strange. “I’m sure hanging out with me is like minus cool points for him or something.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Lilly nodded. “But the real question is whether or not you’re in love with him yet.”
“Ew, no,” I said, tossing a few popcorn kernels her way for emphasis. “I was never in love with him. It was like a three week crush that ended when he asked out Becca Gray.”
“I forgot about her,” my friend said in shock. “She moved to Florida, right?”
“No idea.” I ate another handful of popcorn before I continued. “The real question is how am I ever going to get a guy like Blake to understand anything about Macbeth?”
“Good question,” she agreed. “He’s so wrapped up in his world he can’t even begin to understand anything that isn’t totally about hockey.”
“Wait,” I said, jumping up off my bed. “That’s it!”
Racing to my desk, I pulled a notebook out of my messenger bag and started writing down the ideas that were pouring into my head. Having seen me react to random inspiration in similar fashion before, Lilly waited until I was done before she asked just what was going on.
“Maybe if I can show him Macbeth is like hockey then he’ll get it,” I explained.
“Macbeth is like hockey?” Lilly asked, clearly not understanding my line of thinking just yet.
“Kind of,” I shrugged. “I might need to look up some facts about hockey, but I think I can kind of relate it to everything so he can get more invested in the story.”
“Well good luck with that,” she finally replied. “I think getting someone like Blake to understand anything Shakespeare has ever written will be a miracle and then some.”
Ignoring my friends’ comment, I went back to writing down my thoughts. I continued to work on things over the next few days, working hard to change the story of Macbeth into something Blake would understand. I had to google a lot of facts about hockey, but in the end was pretty excited for how I could use t
he parallels to help him learn the story and understand the action we were reading. The only problem was getting him to focus.
“Are you listening?” I asked Blake for what felt like the hundredth time. It was Tuesday afternoon and he was clearly distracted.
“Yeah,” he replied, not even bothering to look up from his phone.
“Then tell me what I was just talking about,” I challenged him.
“You said something about the Montagues,” he answered while texting.
“No, I didn’t.” Before I could stop myself, I reached out and grabbed his phone from his hands. “The Montagues are from Romeo and Juliet. We’re reading Macbeth.”
“Right, so you were saying something about Macbeth,” he shrugged. “Can I have my phone back now?”
“No,” I all but barked at him. “You can’t have your phone back. And I was talking about hockey, not Macbeth.”
Around us I could see a few other patrons in the coffee shop shooting me looks. I couldn’t tell if they thought I was crazy, or felt bad for me. Either way I lowered my voice when I spoke again.
“I’m trying everything I can to help you understand this play and you don’t even care.”
“It’s too hard,” he answered. “I’m not like you. When I read this stuff it’s all weird and confusing.”
“Which is why I spent all week coming up with ways to help you understand.” I held up my note covered paper for emphasis. “I worked hard on this, and you can’t even be bothered enough to listen. You’re too worried about people seeing you with a loser like me.”
“What?” Blake asked, actually looking a little surprised by my statement. “I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you.”
“Then why can’t we meet near school?” I asked. “And why can’t you even pretend I exist in class? Just admit it. You would rather fail a class and get kicked off the hockey team then ever be associated with me.”
“That’s not it at all,” Blake replied instantly. It looked like my words had struck a chord with him, but it was hard to be sure. He was once again wearing a hat that covered everything above his eyebrows, making his expressions harder to read. “I don’t care who sees me with you. Really, I don’t. And I guess I didn’t talk to you at school because we’re not friends. I mean, you’re helping me, but we don’t really hang out so it would be weird to just talk to you all the time like we know each other and all.”
His phone buzzed in my hands, but I still didn’t hand it back to him. When he saw the blinking screen and the fact that I wasn’t ready to return it to him just yet, he continued.
“I don’t want anyone to know I’m failing,” he finally said with a sigh. “If people know that I might be kicked off the team then they’re going to think I’m a loser. You know, a total joke. I mean, I only need above a D average in all my classes to play hockey, and I can’t even manage that. So I don’t want to study near school in case someone will see us and figure out that I’m basically just weeks away from being kicked off the team for good.”
“If you let me help you then you won’t get kicked off the team,” I explained, the anger from earlier all but gone from my voice.
“It’s just that-” he paused when his phone buzzed again. “Can I just have my phone already?”
“Fine.”
Once the phone was back in his hands Blake became a different person from the more serious guy I had just been talking to just seconds before. He had a smile on his face, and actually laughed at something on his screen before beginning a reply. Once he had sent a few messages he seemed to remember I was sitting there and quickly slipped his phone into his pocket.
“I have to go,” he said simply. “There a thing going on at Tony’s and I can’t miss it.”
“Well then I guess you better go,” I said with a straight face.
“Maybe we can study Friday?” he asked as he stood up, book in hand. “I don’t have practice since our game is early Saturday morning.”
“I’ll think about it,” I answered him simply, although I could feel my anger building once again.
Thankfully, Blake left before I could let my emotions get the best of me, leaving me alone in the coffee shop. Words came to me minutes later as I allowed everything to sink in, but I knew I wasn’t going to get to say them to him. So, instead I packed everything up, finished my coffee, and left.
5
The longer I thought about my conversation with Blake in the coffee shop the more annoyed at him I became. So much so that I ignored his messages the rest of the week. He tried to confirm a time to meet a few times, but I simply read what he had sent my way and moved on. I knew it would show him on Instagram that I saw what he had sent, but didn’t care. Part of me hoped he would move on and leave me alone, but when the final bell rang on Friday it was clear that wasn’t the case.
“Victoria! Wait up!”
Hearing Blake call to me from across the hallway was a little annoying and embarrassing to say the least. I thought leaving class the second I heard the bell would make it clear I wasn’t going to help him, but apparently, I wasn’t going to get my wish. Looking over my shoulder at him once, I made my way to my locker before he finally caught up to me.
“We’re going for coffee, right?” he asked. He drew out the word coffee, trying to make it clear he was actually referring to studying. I rolled my eyes before turning to him with a reply.
“No.”
“Wait, what?”
For the first time since he asked me to study with him, Blake wasn’t wearing his signature winter hat. Instead I could see his messy brown hair, which perfectly complimented his brown eyes. Eyes that were mirroring the concern in his words.
“I don’t like the coffee at The Java Hut,” I answered. “And I’m sick of putting in time and energy just for you to walk away the second you get a text from your friends. Now if you'll excuse me, I’m going to visit Lilly and drop off all of her assignments.”
I was glad I was only telling a little bit of a lie. Lilly was out sick, and since we got more information about our history papers I planned to update her at some stage during the weekend. But, the truth was, I wasn’t heading over there until she had a little more time to become less contagious. And, on top of that, I actually liked the coffee at The Java Hut more than I wanted to admit. I still liked the atmosphere at Cup O’ Beans, but wasn’t going to give Blake the satisfaction of admitting anything.
While Blake stood there trying to understand what was going on, I took the chance to close my locker and walk towards the door leading outside. Zipping my coat as I walked, I made it onto the pavement amidst the crowd of other students before Blake was once again at my side.
“You can’t leave,” he said simply, his breath making puffs of air around us.
“Sure I can.” I didn’t look at him while I spoke, instead focusing my attention ahead of me as I continued to walk. “Look, I’m doing it right now.”
“I mean you have to help me,” he tried again.
“No, actually I don’t.”
Thankfully that one seemed to confused or at least frustrate Blake enough that he simply walked by my side in silence for a minute. More than anything I wanted him to turn and walk back to the school. But he stayed next to me as we left the school's property and continued onto the sidewalk along the road.
“Is this because I left the coffee house?” he finally asked.
“What do you think?”
“Yes,” he answered after a pause. “I think you were mad I wasn’t going to stay and work with you. Hanging out with my friends could have waited until we were done.”
“That’s not it at all,” I said through gritted teeth.
“But you were mad when I left, right?” When I nodded, he continued. “So you were mad I was leaving, but you weren't mad I was leaving at the same time?”
“I was mad that I care more about you understanding Macbeth and doing well in English than you seem to,” I explained.
“I care about my grade-�
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“Not enough.” I cut him off and stopped walking. He continued a step or two then realized what had happened and turned to face me. “If you really cared about your grade and even your team for that matter, then it wouldn’t matter who knew you had a tutor. But you don’t care about that. Instead your whole focus is not letting people know you might fail. So what happens if you don’t get your grade up and get kicked off the team? People are going to know about it, and by that point there won’t be anything you can do to fix it. You need to check your ego and realize what’s at stake before it’s too late.”
I turned and began walking once again, leaving Blake behind me. He seemed to be rooted to the spot, likely allowing my words to sink in a little. I made it halfway down the block before I heard feet pounding the pavement behind me. My first inclination was to keep going and ignore him. Instead I slowed down and finally stopped as Blake caught up to me.
“You’re right,” he said with a long exhale. “But I can’t pass on my own. I’ve tried to read the play a bunch of times and it just doesn’t make any sense. Can you please keep helping me? I’m begging you Victoria. Please.”
I looked up at Blake for a solid minute while thinking it over. It was funny in that moment to realize how much taller than me he was. He towered over me by easily a foot, and had broad shoulders thanks to his years of sports. Standing there looking up at him I realized that despite being so much smaller, I had the power. Sure, he might find someone else to help him study. But, until then, I was his only chance at getting his English grade up enough to pass the final test and stay on the hockey team.
“Fine,” I finally replied. “What time does your game end tomorrow?”
“It should be over by around noon.” A grin was already growing on his face as he spoke.
“Okay,” I nodded. “I will be at Cup O' Beans near school. You need to finish reading all of Act One and Two before then, so you better get to work. And I’m not fighting with you about it. If you stop trying, I’ll leave you there to study alone.”