The next couple of days flew by as I tried to delude myself into thinking that it was all a figment of my imagination - the system, the second chance, everything. Faced with my mortality, I willfully ignored the consistently blinking blue dot in the corner of my vision, a constant reminder of the death sentence I’d been handed.

Because that’s what the mission entailed. There was not a shred of doubt in my mind that it’d be nigh impossible to win the award, especially in the era when it was shared between two of the greatest players the world of football has ever seen.

“It’s so unfair that you are this good at math while also being our team’s ace. Leave some room for the rest of us, mate!”, Charlie complained while slamming his head on the desk.

Broken out of my musings, I turned to him and mocked, “Maybe if you hadn’t been preoccupied with trying to annoy Claire during class, you would have solved it by now”

“Oh c’mon! You know I need to be constantly in the process of pranking someone! It’s what keeps me awake!” he justified, throwing his hands in the air.

Shaking my head, I glanced over at his workbook filled with scratches that he called his handwriting. Feeling a twinge of pity as he had quite perceptively sensed my thoroughly hidden melancholy and invited me over to hang out, I proceeded to help him with his homework for the umpteenth time today, “OK, for this problem… Apply this formula… And that’s how you solve it. Easy, right?”

I turned to find Charlie staring at me open-mouthed with his eyes almost glazed over. Deciding that it was high time we took a break, especially for the sake of Charlie’s silky-smooth brain, I allowed him time to cool off while I chose to wander around the house.

*Phut* … *Phut* … *Phut* …

My steps unconsciously led me towards the faint noise as I found myself standing outside Patrick’s room, peering through the half-open door. I almost burst out laughing when I witnessed him chanting something while smacking his head on a book almost like some cult ritual.

*Ohh… Jesus… Bless…*

*Ohh… Lucifer… Power…*

His chant did it for me as I failed to hold in my giggles. As if a damn had burst, I found myself rolling on the floor while gasping for breath, guffawing out loud.

After what seemed like an entire minute, my lungs seemed to have enough as I finally calmed down and opened my bleary eyes to find a positively pissed-off Patrick glaring down at me. Rubbing the tears off, I stared back at him, as he heaved a deep breath and uttered, “Find something funny, did we?”

I worked my hardest to not burst into a laughing fit again, which only seemed to enrage him further as he kicked my rear, “I’d like to see you laugh like that after looking at my math book! The bloody thing barely has any numbers in it!”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

In a flash of genius, I decided to take him up on his offer and swiftly stepped into his room. Making my way towards his desk with Patrick following me dumbfounded, I gleaned that he was stuck on very basic integrals.

Snorting, I picked up a pen and proceeded to write down a concise solution in under a minute. Looking back, I was faced with a Patrick whose lips were fluttering like that of a fish as he gawked at me wide-eyed.

“You were saying?”

“You… H-How?!”

I shrugged, not bothering with an explanation, instead quipping, “Shouldn’t it be, thank you, my lord, for sending me my savior?”, and then snickering again.

I watched with glee as his face raced through almost every shade of pink and red known to mankind before he composed himself, “Will you help me with it?”

I smirked, “I could consider it for a fair price”

Shutting his eyes, he asked, “What, you want be to your proxy at the offie?”

Feigning outrage, I exclaimed, “God, should you be asking that to your little brother’s buddy?”

Patrick sighed in relief, “Oh thank the heavens. What do you want then?”

“Nothing much, I just want your help to place some bets”, I muttered under my breath.

“Pardon me, could you repeat that?”, he asked with disbelief, clearly not needing me to repeat it.

“You heard me. I want to make a few bets on the World Cup fixtures. But, as you can see, I clearly can’t”, I sighed as I gestured to my stature.

“Jesus, that’s almost as bad as me buying you alcohol. You can’t be serious”

I frowned at his unexpected resistance, “Do you really have the luxury to reject my offer? Think of all the time you could spend practicing at the pool”, I asked, making him flinch.

Patrick was an aspiring professional swimmer. Before my time travel, although he couldn’t fulfill his wish of bringing an Olympic medal home, he had been on the British team and had even won a few medals at other international competitions.

In other words, he was a damn good swimmer and had high hopes for obtaining a sports scholarship from a college come next year. As such, his grades needed to be acceptable over the coming year.

“Fine. I’ll place some bets for you, instead you will help me with math for the next year”, he relented.

Quickly spotting his shamelessness, I retorted, “Why don’t you find someone else to rip off? I’m only gonna help you until next week”

“Oh c’mon! I’m literally committing a crime here!”, he objected, earning a snort from me.

“Yeah, as if the authorities are going to be on your case for some chump change. It ain’t a crime unless you voluntarily fess up”

“But, I do need help for the entire year, though. There’s gotta be something I can do”, he begged after realizing I wasn’t going to take kindly to being ripped off.

Pretending to think long and hard about it, I proposed my real purpose, “OK. How about you be my stand-in for things I need to be an adult for during the next year? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna make you do anything illegal”

Patrick was baffled, “As long as there’s nothing illegal, I’m fine. Instead, you have to make sure I understand how to actually solve the problems”

“Deal”

//Author's Notes:

Offie: Slang for liquor store