+|Joey|-

I breathed a sigh out of my system before searching the library for Ryder. I couldn't match a name with a face all by myself. Hundreds of kids went to this school, how was I supposed to know which one Ryder was? I decided to ask the librarian if she knew where Ryder was and which one he was. She was one of the three librarians, I found her a little bit nicer and easier to talk with than the other two.

"Hi Ms. Leebose, do you know if Ryder Blakeman is here? I'm supposed to be tutoring him here after school now,"

"Yes, Mrs. Berkley told me all about it," She smiled, "He's sitting over at that table there."

I glanced over to where she was pointing. Yeah, I'd definitely seen him around before. I remember seeing him for the first time in one of the second floor hallways in school. His brown almost black hair covered his head while his light gray-blue eyes stood out more than someone would think. His usual colors of clothing were black, dark gray, light gray, dark blue and green, and a little bit of white here and there. Whenever I'd see him, he'd have earbuds stuck in his ears with his eyes forward looking ahead at where he was going. I thanked Ms. Leebose and began heading over to the table Ryder was seated at. I was somewhat nervous, he wasn't exactly nice all the time. My eyes witnessed his words and actions towards teachers and other students sometimes.

I stopped at an edge of the table, "You're Ryder, right?"

"Yeah, you Joey?" He didn't hesitate to look up from his phone screen.

I nod my head, "Yeah."

I sat down across from him, setting my backpack in the chair next to me on my right. Ryder quickly tapped out a text message to someone and then took out what I guessed was his math folder.

"This shit's lame," He slapped the folder down in the middle of us.

"Okay, so what's the most recent thing you're learning in class with Mrs. Berkley?"

"How the fuck should I know?" He leaned back in the chair he was in.

"Do you have any of the recent assignments?" I asked, fishing out one of my mechanical pencils from the front pocket of my backpack.

"Threw 'em out, it's all pointless," Ryder crossed his arms and shrugged.

From my perspective, I did agree with him on most math being completely pointless. I didn't have a career planted inside my brain that required any math I had learned in the many years after my days in elementary school. Teachers have got to be out of their mind sometimes, I swear. They really think we're going to understand some of the algorithms and topics? It sometimes feels like I'm doing homework given by a college professor.

"Look, I know this isn't fun for you, but I know you'll want to have a good life after high school, so can you work with me here? Help yourself out?" The look on Ryder's face seemed like I could have a small bit of hope for a somewhat positive turnout with him. He opened up the slightly torn folder and took out a packet.

"I think we're doing something in this packet right now, I threw everything else out," Ryder explained to me.

I took the packet out of the folder and used a minute to flip through it, "Okay."

I scanned through the math packet, searching for anything easy to start with as a little icebreaker. Maybe the material just didn't come natural to him. I didn't know that at the time, it didn't come natural to him at all. Right after I flipped through the packet, I questioned him about his history with math. He explained to me that he always struggled with it and never was that math genius the students and teacher looked up to. Ryder told me he was usually the worst kid in the class of several. He'd be asked to go up to the board every now and then, and fail at solving the problem. His tone of voice described to me how he struggled and how tough it was. I knew where he was coming from. I too had my struggles with math at a young age. I got better as the years went on, only because my father insisted I be tutored every other day after school. It was agony for the longest time, but this one day, it started becoming easier, like a one-hundred pound brick was lifted off of my shoulders. My tutor, Abby, showed me shortcuts to the answers and methods to use so things wouldn't feel so complicated and stressful. So with what I learned from her, I used it to help Ryder. We started out with a few basic problems from the packet. It was difficult to put the packet in front of him and point to things while it was upside down in my own vision, so I went and sat in the chair next to him so it'd be less difficult on my eyes and brain.

"I don't even see the point in this," Ryder dropped his pencil down on top of the packet.

"Just try this method I showed you," I said pointing to what I wrote down in a blank space of the back packet page.

The packet was neatly stapled and had fine black-ink wording from the school printer, it was in better condition that the other few papers in Ryder's math folder, so it actually impressed me a little. He picked his pencil back up with a not-too-loud breath of tiredness and tried following the method written down. It took a few minutes for him to get the problem completely solved, I didn't mind letting him take his time.

"I got C," Ryder tapped the multiple choice answer with his pencil.

I looked over his mathwork and was surprised to discover that the method I showed him worked out really well. He took his time with it, which was fine, that's what tutoring is all about, making sure the student is comfortable and learning something is the key part.

"Yeah, good job," I complimented truthfully.

Full knowledge of this particular subject wouldn't develop in Ryder's head overnight. It would take time; time and tutoring to get him in a good place. It did take awhile. I had to be very patient with him because there was a few times where he lost his temper and stormed out of the library. Mrs. Berkley checked in with me about Ryder every Friday in class. She'd ask how he was doing in the past week. I'd give her an honest report and then go back to my desk to finish whatever work she assigned for the class. Even with a temper taller than the empire state building, Ryder had begun to come around. He started putting more effort into his homework and classwork. Mrs. Berkley told me how he was improving little by little in each class session.

On a random Friday of tutoring in the library, Ryder asked me something, "My mom's been telling me she wants to meet you. Says she wants to thank you for helping me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Dinner's at 5:30 if you wanna come. She invited you," Ryder told me.

"I'll see if I can. My dad doesn't usually let me hang out with new people he doesn't know," I knew I'd have to tell him sooner or later that my dad was a cop. A very dedicated one.

"Why?" Ryder questioned.

I sighed, "He's a cop, very protective of his family, but in the worst way, sometimes."

"Is he mean?"

"He can be, I can't stand being around him anymore," I answered honestly. My dad isn't always easygoing. He makes my bad days worse. He even makes my good days worse.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Ryder Blakeman had said he was sorry.

He said he was sorry for something he didn't even do or cause. He was showing sympathy for someone. He didn't seem like the type at the time. I was taken aback by it.

"Don't be sorry, I try not to let it get to me so much, y'know?"

"Yeah," Ryder responded.

"My mom won't care, my dad's the only problem," I explained shortly.

"Just let me know, here, what's your number?" When he asked, I began to tell him.

While I told him three numbers at a time, I started to view his eyes in a way I never did before. He texted me to make sure it was my number, not like I'd lie to him, I have no reason to. Quickly, I had to snap out of the daze I was in. If he had ended up catching me, he'd probably beat me up or something. His style seemed right along those lines.

"My mom can be annoying. She likes to ask questions," Ryder warned me. I guess he saw it as more of a warning than I did. A half hour later we packed up everything and walked out of the library side by side. School was pretty much empty of faculty and students as we exited the building through the long and short hallways. Ryder pulled out his car key from his front jeans pocket when we got to the parking lot. Immediately, I realized it wasn't a car key in his front jeans pocket, it was a motorcycle key. Oh yeah, motorcycle.

"You have a motorcycle?" I had to say something, I couldn't keep my mouth shut about it.

He was the original high school movie bad boy. It was so generic for his image it didn't surprise me right away. I didn't know he already had his license. How on earth did he get the money to afford a bike like the one he had, though? It really stumped my brain. He was only in high school, as was I.

"Yeah," He answered shortly.

"How'd you get it?" I asked.

"Stole it," Of course he did.

"Stole it," I repeated, basically hankering for more explanation of the story behind the great motorcycle steal the thief I'd been tutoring had under his hands.

"Wasn't hard. Friend of mine had to close a deal with some guy and the guy cheated him out of it. Fucked him up then stole his bike. Gave it to me since he didn't have gas money for it," The backstory caught me off guard.

Ryder pushed the key in and turned it. He sat with both legs on the sides of the motorcycle. His helmet wasn't on; yeah, he did have one surprisingly. Those eyes shifted up to look at the ones I owned.

"Coming?"

I knew he'd probably think I was uncool, but I told him the truth anyway, "Never been on one before."

"Here," Ryder handed me a spare black helmet.

I took the helmet from him into my hands. My mom wouldn't dare allow me on a motorcycle. She probably would've thought it was too dangerous. And my dad, well, I'm barely allowed to do anything when I'm around him so he'd certainly disapprove of me riding on a motorcycle with a boy he'd never met before. I sat behind Ryder on the motorcycle. I looked to my left and right for handles. There were handles but I didn't necessarily feel safe gripping them when my palms were already damn near sweating.

"Should I hold the handles?" I asked the boy in charge of controlling the bike.

"Just hang onto me," He responded.

When he said to do that, I didn't immediately do it. My arms were hesitant to be around him. My eyes scanned our surroundings. A teacher with blonde hair getting into her small red car, A tree's group of green leaves flying around calmly in the breeze, the sun lightly heating the parking lot, and the sound of Ryder's motorcycle ready to zip right out of school grounds. My lungs shed a shaky breath. Ever get that mixture of adrenaline and nervousness in your body?

"You good?" Ryder's head stopped turning at his shoulder.

"Yeah," I nodded.

Ryder placed his hands on the handlebars, "Good, then hang onto me."

I didn't hesitate this time and wrapped my arms around his midsection. My hands were folded above his abs that I could feel he had. Fuck. I can't lie. It did turn me on. Ryder pulled out of the parking lot slowly. He didn't go very fast which was kind of him. I appreciated that doing. His eyes stayed focused on the road in front of him. I did hang onto him tighter each time I felt the motorcycle move a little faster. The wind felt so different. Normally, I feel it from car rides or walking outside, but on a motorcycle ride it's a completely different type of feeling. It feels better as weird as that might sound. Motorcycle drivers and riders probably understand what I felt.

When we stopped at a red light, he turned his head back in my direction, "You alright?"

"Yeah, all good," My hands relaxed since we'd come to a stop.

I didn't notice they'd begun to slide down to Ryder's abs. I quickly shoved my hands back up and folded them again. He didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't show that he cared. The light flashed green on the bottom of the traffic light and Ryder took off. His house was only about ten or fifteen minutes away from school, or maybe twenty. We arrived at a medium-sized chipped white-paint house with three numbers in an order of five, three, and nine on the mailbox. The screen door was ripped and the net of it was hanging off. A window was open. All of the noises that poured out were not exactly the sounds of a happy family. At the time, before we'd reached his house, I was ready to walk into his home with an open mind and a positive attitude. Things come along in life that are so unexpected they don't even hit you until your eyes seriously begin to capture every sight, every sound, every smell, every touch. Before Ryder even got the door open, I knew someone needed to get him out of that house.