My dad picked me up from the school parking lot in his truck at the end of practice. While the weather had cooled off a little bit from the setting sun, it was still warm, and my head was soaked with sweat.

"How was your first day of practice as the new starting quarterback?" My dad beamed. He glanced between me and the road as he drove home.

"It was good. I was throwing some real darts out there. Got along well with the guys and learned some new plays. It should be a good week of practice."

"You made some friends today, huh?" My dad smiled, one hand on the steering wheel as he stopped at a traffic light.

"I don't know. It's too soon to tell." The truth of the matter, I hardly talked to anyone. I did as I was told, slinging the football like a robot.

"That will come in time. Those guys will be like your brothers by the end of the football season. I guarantee it. Anyways, I hope you brought your appetite for dinner. Mom made some tacos, which smelled amazing before I left the house."

I sighed.

"What's the matter?" My dad asked, glancing back and forth between me and the road.

"I have to have a math tutor, so I'll probably see some wiz kid on weeknights after practice."

My dad grimaced. "Dammit, Rollie. What's the matter with you, son?"

"I don't know. I just find all this schoolwork very boring. It's like I don't belong in a school setup, you know? Going to all these classes and doing bullshit work. It's pointless, but I need to do well enough to play football? I don't get it."

"Yeah, school was never my cup of tea either, but it's important to learn that stuff and do well. I was lucky. My high school had an auto shop class which not everyone does, but that's where I found my calling. But I couldn't take it until my junior year, I think."

"Yeah, I can't take auto shop class until junior year. That seems pretty cool. Aside from that, everything just makes me feel so alienated."

My dad focused on the road, but I saw him shake his head.

"I can't believe you need to see a tutor. I never had to see one when I was in school." My dad scoffed. "Maybe they can find someone who can make you feel more..." He searched for the right word to say. "Included!"

"Yeah, we'll see." I didn't want to respond, but I felt uncomfortable ignoring him.

"I will say, I don't think you're doing yourself any favors by dressing up the way you do. I think it probably scares or intimidates people. But look, I love punk music and the punk scene, but I don't have to dress weird to like it more, y'know?"

"Other people out there dress like me. I just don't have any classes with them. It's not a problem with my clothes."

"I didn't say it was. I just said it wasn't helping any, that's all. You need to start listening better too. Maybe the tutor can help you with that," My dad said. The rest of the car ride back home was silent. I wanted to scream at him but didn't have the energy. An argument would just go on and on and on. Football practice exhausted me enough. The thought of telling him about my flaming hand came up, but I knew he'd look at me like I was going mad. There wasn't any point.

Gazing out the truck window, I imagined throwing the football on a Saturday at noon. On the field at some colossal stadium for a big-time university. A crowd of 80,000 people cheered my name as I threw perfect spirals at my receivers and scored a million touchdowns against the rival school.

***

Sitting at the kitchen table, my mom had served up tacos and was silent the entire time.

"How was your day, Rollie?" my mom finally said.

"It was okay." I shrugged.

"Do you have any homework tonight?"

"Uh, yeah, just the usual amount. It shouldn't take me very long to do."

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

"What? I just told you I have a little bit of homework."

"I feel like you should have an hour of homework a night at the very least."

"Well, tonight I don't. I guess the teachers were nice and forgiving on a Monday."

"I checked your grades today online. They're not looking so hot."

I rolled my eyes, but fortunately, my mom didn't see. She was taking bites, focusing on her plate. "Look, I'm passing all of them."

"Barely. Math especially is looking scary." My mom shook her head.

"Yes, I'm aware, but I realize that I need help, so I'm going to start seeing a math tutor. I think I can pass all my other classes, but math has given me a hard time."

"You're going to start seeing a tutor? How much money does that cost?"

"It's free!"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

My mom scoffed. "Yeah, right. People don't just give up their time to help an idiot at math for free."

"Madeline!" My dad slapped the table as he shouted. "Is that really necessary?"

My body froze up. Rage pumped through my veins, yet my soul felt crushed. I didn't know how to react. I raised my clenched fist and punched the table so hard it flipped over. The dishes, the silverware, and the tacos flew through the air, raining down on the floor. The chairs screeched as my parents stood up. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Rollie, why don't you go to your room before I also blow a gasket on you, too," my dad said.

I marched to my bedroom and slammed the door shut. My parents started arguing immediately, like a firework show of yelling and obscenities. The only refuge I could find was from my headphones. I put on a Nirvana album and cranked the music so loud I couldn't even hear myself think. Jumping on my bed, I closed my eyes. I imagined driving a car to a different city or a different town, being as far away from everyone as I could get. All my dumb teachers, classmates, and parents. I wanted to run from it all. More tears trickled down my face. The music wouldn't go any louder. Thank goodness for the distorted guitars, obnoxious drums, and shouting vocals. I was able to escape my mind and all the insanity around me. Time dragged on, but I couldn't tell how many minutes or hours had passed.

Someone put their hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. I threw off the headphones and opened my eyes. My dad was in front of me.

"What are you doing in here?" I snapped.

"You better be careful, Rollie. Listening to loud music will kill your ears," my dad said.

"Well, maybe if you and Mom didn't argue all the time, I wouldn't have to blast my music," I said.

"Look, I'm not a perfect father. And I'm sorry I had to barge into your room like this, but I was banging away at your door, and you didn't answer."

"Okay, but what do you want?"

"Your tutor is here to see you."

I scrunched my brow. "What are you talking about?"

"Your tutor, they're here already."

"That doesn't make any sense. There's no way Coach Carlson found a tutor that fast, and I was planning on meeting with him somewhere else that's NOT here."

My dad sighed. "Will you just talk to the man? He's on our doorstep and wants to speak to you."

"This is really weird, though. Make sure you're close by. I'm not letting him in the house or going outside until I have more information. I really don't think they found a tutor for me this quick. You're not messing with me, are you?"

My dad was offended. "No. Why would I joke around about that?"

I shrugged and followed my dad out of my bedroom.

Walking into the living room, I inspected the entrance, hesitating before opening it. My dad stood just a few feet away from me, behind the door.

I carefully peeled back the door, and my gut feeling told me this wasn't a tutor to help me with math. Standing beside me was a tall man with wavy light brown hair and a sharp nose. His face was chiseled like a model’s. He wore a long dark-gray cloak with a golden chain connecting the middle together.

"Ah, you must be Rollie Magpie. It's a great pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Jonathan Nexstrum." He stuck out his hand, but I didn't shake it.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your tutor. Surely your parents told you about me?"

"No? I told my parents I was going to see a tutor."

Jonathan retreated his hand and rubbed his chin. "Oh? So you knew I was coming?"

"Yeah, but not for a few days at the very least. How old are you anyway? You're not in high school."

Jonathan chuckled. "You're certainly right. I'm not in high school."

"But yet, you're a tutor from the National Honor society?"

The corner of his lip curled up. "I think we are both confused. I'm your tutor from Lementum. Your parents have told you about Lementum, right?"

I shook my head and looked at my dad.

"I don't know what he's talking about," my dad whispered.

"I know I'm referring to both of your parents, but I think your mom would know best. Is she around? She might be able to clear up some of this," Jonathan said.

"Yeah, let me go get her," I said. Walking to my parent's bedroom, I knocked on the door.

"Come on in," my mom yelled. She was in the middle of folding laundry and organizing it on the bed; she didn't look up at me.

"Hey, so there's this guy here named Jonathan, and he says he's my tutor from Lementum, and he says that you would know what that means."

My mom paused. Her hands shook, but she tried to fold up her clothes faster.

"Earth to mom?" I said.

"I don't know what he's talking about, so tell him to get lost."

"Are you sure? Because I don't think he's going to leave."

"Just tell him to leave, or we'll call the cops!"

"Okay, I guess I'll do that then." I wanted to grumble something rude, but I bit my tongue.

Returning to the front door, Jonathan was waiting with his arms folded, but he smiled. "Well, is she coming?"

"She said you had to leave and has no idea what you're talking about." I shrugged. "Sorry, dude."

Jonathan pursed his brow but nodded. "Okay then. I assume she hasn't spoken to you about anything happening with your hands."

"My hands?" Chills went up my spine. "Could you be more specific?"

"Have you experienced anything unusual emanating from your hand, like energy of some sort? Perhaps small trails of electricity? Is your hand turning bright purple? A tiny tornado encapsulating your fingers? It doesn't hurt you, but has anything like that happened?" Jonathan asked.

I completely froze up. My mind went blank. I thought I was in the middle of a dream.

My dad stepped in. "Okay, pal, I don't know what you're talking about, and it's obvious you're not my son's math tutor, so I think you better hit the road."

Jonathan kept looking at me and paid no attention to my dad. "Perhaps your hand froze into ice, but it didn't feel cold? Maybe it turned into a ball of water? Or did your hand catch fire with no burning pain?"

"Alright, that's enough now. Have a good night, Mr. Jonathan," my dad said as he closed the door.

"Wait!" I yelled. Moving my dad out of the way, I swung the door open again. "My hand caught fire. It's happened four times already, but no one knows why!" I shouted.

Jonathan was still standing there, and his lips curled up. "Okay, I thought that was the case. It makes a lot of sense knowing your grandpa and all."

"My grandpa?"

"Yeah, your grandpa, Logan Magpie."

"Is he still alive?" I asked.

"Yeah, of course, he is." Jonathan blinked.

"Hold on a second, my grandparents on both sides, I thought, passed away." I took a step back.

"Well, Logan is still alive. Logan is your mom's father. Do you know much about him?"

I shook my head. "My mom said she ran away from home when she was young. Her parents were awful to her, and she found out years later that he passed away."

Jonathan frowned. "Oh boy, there's much more to discuss than I thought there would be. Do you mind if I come inside the house?"

"Look, Jonathan, I don't think it's such a good idea," my dad said, stepping in front of him. "My wife doesn't want you here, so you should get going, not to mention you got my son all in a frenzy."

"But I'm afraid neither of you understands. I'm Rollie's tutor from Lementum. I'm supposed to take him home," Jonathan said.

"Home?" I uttered. "This is my home, though. I grew up here my entire life."

"I understand, but Rollie, you will never truly fit into this world. This isn't where you belong."

I laughed. "I might seem like an outsider, but I get by okay."

"Please, can I have a seat at this table so we can all have a much-needed conversation," Jonathan said. "This is for your son, Rollie. He deserves to know what's happening."

"You gotta go, pal," my dad said.

"Ask your son," Jonathan said firmly.

"Rollie, you want to hear this crazy man out, or shall I show him the door?" my dad asked.

"Yeah, I want to hear what he has to say," I said. I aimed my voice at the hallway and yelled. "Mom! You might wanna come out here!"