Friday Night Lights - "If This One Could Be With You", Tim/Julie, R
Title: If This One Could Be With You - Chapter 1/10
Author: lindentree
Rating: R (for the series; this part is just PG)
Character(s): Tim/Julie
Word Count: 3,267
Summary: After 2x11, "Jumping the Gun", Julie's parents come up with an appropriate punishment for her - tutoring Tim Riggins.
Notes: This is actually the very first Tim/Julie fic I wrote, and it is the first of several parts of the same story. It's been kicking around for about two months; I've been working on it slowly while writing shorter fics here and there to get a feel for the pairing. It's very possible that the tutoring concept has been done to death already, but I hope my rendition is readable all the same.
The title is a lyric from Sam Cooke's "Wonderful World", an adorable love song if ever there was one.
Thanks (as ever) to the_wanlorn for the help and encouragement. ♥
Julie Taylor could not believe what she was hearing.
“You had better believe it, honey. You are going to drag Tim Riggins through his English class if it kills you both.”
“Why me? Are you sure Dad really okayed this?”
Tami set down the knife she was using to chop peppers for their salad, and raised her eyebrows at her daughter.
“Excuse me? Why you? Do we need to go over your drinking and staying out past curfew and lying and getting Tim in trouble again? Because we sure can, if you really need to.”
"Mom, come on! I've got enough of my own schoolwork without doing his for him."
"Jules, you are absolutely not doing his homework for him, you're tutoring him because he needs it, and because your father and I say so. This is how you're going to make up for that bad decision. Not only to me and your father, but to Tim, too. He took a hit for you when you should have been honest, honey."
Julie's whine stopped short in her throat. She wanted to point out that she had already apologized to him for that, but she didn't bother. Her mother was wearing her 'I mean business' face, which Julie knew meant that her punishment was going to stick.
"Fine," she huffed. "His place or mine?"
Tami scoffed. “He's gonna come over here every day after practice until his English teacher can show me that he's improving. He already knows about it, and he’s going to come over tomorrow afternoon. You’ll just have to get your own homework done before he comes over."
Tami turned away and resumed fixing dinner.
"It'll be a cold day in July before any daughter of mine is allowed at the Rigginses' house, tutoring or no tutoring."
***
Julie spent the next day in a state of petulant irritation over her punishment. It wasn’t that she had anything against Tim. The opposite was the case, actually. Ever since the night she went over to apologise for the whole Riley thing, he smiled at her in the hallways and waved at her from his truck if he happened to pass her on the street. Tim was okay, for a football player. No, the problem was that she was still more than a little embarrassed about what happened the night of the party. She felt so stupid about the whole thing, the entire concept of having been rescued. He probably thought she was a dumb kid, unable to look after herself.
It didn’t help when she told Lois about her unfortunate plight. The news sent Lois into a tailspin of ridiculous (and somewhat creepy, Julie felt) ecstatic glee, culminating in her begging ceaselessly for an invitation to their tutoring sessions, or at least dinner, until Julie abandoned her half-eaten tuna croquettes and left a sputtering Lois alone at their table in the cafeteria.
Julie was mulling her grave misfortune over for the hundredth time (while pretending to do her American History homework) when she heard the rumble of Tim’s truck in the driveway. Groaning, she put her books aside and went to answer the subsequent knock on the door.
Tim Riggins stood on her doorstep, all messy hair, unkempt clothes and aviators hiding the dark circles under his eyes. He was empty-handed except for his keys, which dangled from one hand.
“Hey, Taylor,” he greeted her, removing his glasses.
“Hi, Tim,” she replied softly, feeling shy. “Come on in.”
She walked back into the house. “I guess we’ll work at the table,” she said, gesturing to the piece of furniture as though Tim might not know what she meant.
Tim nodded, setting down his glasses and his keys.
“So,” said Julie a little too brightly, “What’s the plan?”
Tim looked at her. “The plan?”
“Yeah, the plan. For studying.”
“Uh,” he said, frowning, “I guess I was thinking you’d tell me. You being the tutor and all.”
“Right!” she replied, “Obviously.”
They stood silently for a beat, Tim staring at Julie like she’d grown an extra head.
“Do you want something to drink?” Julie asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Uh, sure,” Tim replied, taking a seat at the table.
Julie stood in front of the open fridge. “We’ve got juice, soda, water... What do you want?”
“I guess beer’s out of the question, huh?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Julie smiled. She poured them each a glass of water and came back into the family room. “I’m off beer myself, actually.”
“I bet,” Tim replied, accepting the glass of water.
“Listen,” Julie said, setting her glass down on the table and twisting her hands together awkwardly. “About that... I know we already kind of talked about it or whatever, but I just wanted to say that I’m actually really embarrassed about that whole night, and if we could just maybe kind of not talk about it, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Oh,” Tim said, appraising her. “That why you’re acting all jumpy?”
“Jumpy?”
“Well, yeah. You just seem kinda weird.”
“Oh,” Julie said, blushing. “Yeah, I guess I’m just really embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. I’ve done worse.”
“I bet no one’s ever had to come to your rescue before,” she replied.
“It’s happened once or twice... Could have used a rescue a few more times.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” he replied. “But you’ll be all right. Everyone’s gotta fall flat on their face now and then. Ask anybody who’s ever had a drink and they’ll tell you stories about times they’ve humiliated themselves or done something dumb. We’ve all been there.”
“Thanks, Tim,” she said, oddly touched. “That’s actually kinda reassuring.”
They regarded each other for a moment, and Julie noticed Tim had that funny smile he got on his face sometimes when he was talking to her dad.
"Okay," she said, clearing her throat and leafing through some papers which had been sitting on the table. "We should get going. My mom got me copies of your class syllabus and assignments so I'll know what's going on in your English class basically all the time. Sorry,” she apologised, seeing Tim grimace. “You've got a test this week, and it's on A Separate Peace. Have you read it?"
"Sure have," Tim said, nodding.
"Don't bother lying. It's a waste of time."
"No, I haven't read it."
"It's okay, there's still time. But you'll have to get going. Read as much as you can tonight, and we'll go over what you've read tomorrow."
Tim agreed without protest.
“So what did you do in class today? What homework do you have?” Julie asked.
“I dunno,” said Tim. “To be honest, I was at The Landing Strip with Billy.”
Julie sighed. This was going to be an uphill climb.
***
Julie dashed through the halls, hoping to make it to Tim’s English class before the bell rang. She was going to be late for their tutoring session that evening because she had an interview at Applebee’s. She was excited - she knew she could make good tips as a waitress, and Tyra worked there, which would make it less like work.
She arrived, panting, at the right classroom, and stood aside as the door was flung open and students began to stream out. She would have phoned him, but as it turned out, Tim was about the only person at Dillon High School who did not have a cell phone. Thankfully, her copy of Tim’s timetable enabled her to track him down.
Unfortunately, Tim was nowhere to be found. Julie waited until the class emptied, but he didn’t appear. Cautiously, she poked her head into the classroom, where the teacher was tidying up.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Kramer?” Julie asked.
“Hi Julie,” the kind teacher replied. “How’re you doing today?”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Kramer, how are you?” Julie smiled.
“I’m doing fine, thank you. What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering - was Tim Riggins in class today?”
Mrs. Kramer gave an uncharacteristic guffaw. “No, Tim Riggins was not in class today. Call up the National Guard.”
Julie raised her eyebrows, taken aback at the teacher’s sarcasm. “Is he sick?”
“No, he just cut class, as usual. Why do you need to know?” she said, glancing at Julie curiously. “Oh, honey. Please don’t tell me you’re dating that boy.”
“No,” Julie stammered, embarrassed. “We’re not dating. I’m tutoring him for your class.”
Mrs. Kramer stared for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Oh, of course! Of course you are. I spoke to Mrs. Taylor about it, I remember. I’m sorry, sweetie. Of course you’re not dating Tim Riggins. You’re such a smart girl.”
“Thanks,” Julie replied, frowning. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal, I’ll see him later on for tutoring.”
“Listen, sweetheart,” Mrs. Kramer said softly. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re doing this. I really do. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. You’re such a caring, intelligent girl. I know you want to help him, but that boy is his own worst enemy, and I just... I don’t want you to think badly of yourself when he fails, all right?”
“When he fails?” Julie repeated. “The semester isn’t over yet. He’s got time to make it up.”
“Oh, he’s got time,” Mrs. Kramer agreed, turning back to her tidying up. “He just hasn’t got much else.”
Julie stared at the teacher’s back. Julie loved Mrs. Kramer - she’d had her in her freshman year, and she had loved Julie and always encouraged her and given her lots of recommendations for supplementary reading. But right now she didn’t seem like the same teacher at all.
“Okay,” Julie said, turning to go. “Thanks anyway.”
“Sure thing, honey,” Mrs. Kramer replied. “Don’t worry too much about Tim Riggins. He always seems to find a way to squeak by in the end.”
Julie left the classroom and closed the door behind her, leaning up against it for a moment. Were her parents the only people who thought there was more to Tim Riggins than a drunk, underachieving jock?
***
When Lois dropped Julie off at home after her (successful, she hoped) interview, she found Tim’s truck parked in the driveway. Expecting him to be sitting on the front steps, she was surprised to see an elbow sticking out of the driver’s side window of his truck. He was asleep.
Julie cleared her throat sharply. Tim groaned and opened his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy. “Where were you?”
“I had an interview at Applebee’s. I tried to tell you earlier, but when I went to your English class to catch you, you weren’t there.”
He blinked at her as though he was trying to make sense of the words she was using. “Uh, no. I wasn’t there.”
“I guess we’ve got a lot of work to do, then,” she said, turning to go into the house.
He followed her inside, where he promptly sprawled out on the couch and picked up the remote control.
“What are you doing?” Julie asked as he turned the TV on and began flipping the channels.
“I just wanna check the weather,” he replied.
Julie came around and stood by the couch, her arms crossed over her chest. Tim had landed on ESPN.
“That doesn’t look like the weather,” she said.
“I just wanna check some scores, too.”
Rolling her eyes, Julie took a step towards him and plucked the remote from his hand.
“You do realise you’re here to study, right? That’s been explained to you?” she asked, turning the TV off.
“I know, I know. We’ll get to it.”
“I have homework of my own to do, you know - “
"Hey, look!" Tim interrupted, looking intently past her into the backyard.
"What?" she replied, her head whipping around to look out the French doors. Seeing nothing, she frowned, and was about to ask him what was wrong with his eyesight when the remote control was snatched out of her hands.
"Hey!"
"Oldest trick in the book," he smiled, holding the remote out of her reach and turning the TV on once again. "Can't believe you fell for it."
"Ugh," Julie groaned. "Come on, Tim."
"I'll make you a deal," he said, "Just Oprah and then we'll get started."
"No! My mom's going to be home soon and if you think she's not going to ask a bunch of probing questions to find out how much we've done, you're delusional."
Julie walked over to the TV, leaning over to unplug it. As Tim stared, slack-jawed, she walked back over to him and plucked the remote out of his hand.
"I'm going to go hide this," she said, waving the remote at him, "and you can go sit down at the table and start reading."
"Okay," Tim said loudly as she left the room. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Taylor."
"You're so funny, Timmy," Julie replied in a high-pitched, breathy voice, coming back into the room with a small stack of books in her arms. "Gosh, you sure were great in the game tonight! The way you tried to take that guy's head off, well, it's enough to make a rally girl lightheaded."
Tim grinned at her from the couch.
"Come on," she said, setting the books on the table and sitting down. "Let's go, seriously. The faster we get going, the faster we're both off the hook."
Groaning, Tim dragged himself from the couch and came to the table, sitting down next to Julie. He scowled, resting his head glumly in his hands.
“So how far did you get into A Separate Peace?” Julie asked.
“Oh, pretty far,” he replied.
“Yeah? What do you think of it?”
“It’s great. Really interesting.”
“Have you gotten as far as the big shoot-out between the two rival gangs?”
“Yeah, that’s right about where I stopped last night. That sure was exciting.”
“I know. It’s my favourite part. Except maybe the part with the sex change. I didn’t see that twist coming.”
“Me neither,” Tim agreed, frowning slightly.
“I’m not into the subplot about the cult leader with all the groupies, though. To be honest, I never really got the point of it, but that’s something we can discuss later.”
“Sure,” he nodded, glancing curiously down at the book on the table.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, though. I’m glad you’re taking this so seriously, too. Because there are lots of other things I could be doing with my time, you know?”
“I really appreciate it,” Tim said, nodding again.
Julie glared at him for a moment, then scoffed. She wanted to tell him what had happened with Mrs. Kramer earlier, that pretty much everyone was expecting him to fail, but at the last moment, she decided not to. “You are actually unbelievable,” she said. “You skipped class yesterday and today, and you haven’t read a single word of that book.”
Tim had the decency to look sheepish.
“Tim, you’ve got to read this book if you’re going to pass the test. You’re running out of time.”
"Okay," he agreed, looking genuinely contrite. "I promise I’ll read it as soon as I get home tonight. Can we watch Oprah now?"
"Wow," Julie replied. "I can see why my parents thought this would be a good punishment."
Tim didn't reply, just sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
"If you don't pass this test you'll be failing English, and you'll get kicked off the team. Again."
"I know that," he mumbled sullenly.
"Look, what do you do to motivate yourself when you're at practice and you're hungover and exhausted and Coach is putting you through drill after drill and it's like 120 degrees out - how do you push through that?"
"Are you actually comparing football to English class right now?"
"Just answer the question."
"Uh," he said, glancing at her and looking uncomfortable. "I think about Friday night, about the Friday night after that, about playoffs, about state. About how good it feels to take a guy down. That kinda thing."
"Then I think that's what you should do. Think about your assignments and tests as part of the process of getting to state. If you don't pass, you don't play."
Tim frowned, considering this.
"It's not a big deal if you're not the world's best student. School isn't for everyone. But you still have to pass, and not just so you can play football."
"All right, all right," he said. "I get it."
"Good," Julie said, leafing through the papers once more. She stopped at a test paper with a big, red D at the top next to Tim's messily scrawled name. "Okay, here's your last test, on Death of a Salesman. Let's go over that and see where you went wrong."
She read the questions, squinting at Tim's answers. "Um, I can't actually read anything you've written here, so you're going to have to translate."
***
Julie was setting the table for dinner when her mother finally asked the question Julie had been waiting for.
“So honey, how’s the tutoring going?” Tami asked, checking the pasta cooking on the stove.
“It’s going fine,” Julie said, as her father emerged from the master bedroom, dressed in casual clothes instead of his usual Panthers gear, his hair damp from the shower, and baby Gracie in his arms.
“What’s going fine?” he asked, checking out the dinner and giving his wife a kiss.
“I was just asking Jules how things are going with Tim,” Tami replied.
“I thought there was no football talk at the table,” he said, sneaking an errant noodle when Tami leaned over the sink to drain the spaghetti.
“It’s not football talk, Dad. It’s English talk, actually.”
“Yeah, well, it’s still about one of my players,” he grumped.
“Honey, dinner is just about the only time we have to talk to our daughter, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to find out how things are going. Jules?”
“I said it’s going fine,” Julie said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the salad and tongs.
“Fine how? Is he making progress? Is he reading, doing his assignments? Is he giving you trouble? Give me some details here, sweetie.”
“Just so I’m clear, am I talking to my mom, or to Mrs. Taylor, Dillon High guidance counselor?”
Tami arched an eyebrow, planting one hand firmly on her hip. Julie glanced at her father, who smiled and looked away.
“I hate it when y’all ask that question,” Tami grumbled.
“It’s a fair question,” Eric said.
“All right, fine,” Tami said. “You’re talking to Mrs. Taylor, guidance counselor,” she conceded, carrying the platter of spaghetti and meat sauce over to the table. Her daughter and husband joined her, Eric disappearing towards the bedrooms to put Gracie to bed.
“He’s doing really well, Mrs. Taylor,” Julie said, with a playful smirk, as the family sat down to dinner. “We’re making some good progress. He’s got a reading quiz this week, so we’ll see what happens.”
“Great,” Tami replied. “Now, what does my daughter have to say to her mother about it?”
“Well, he’s only asked me to do his homework once. He’d rather be watching Sports Center or Oprah than talking about novels or poetry, but he’s trying,” she said. “I think he might like reading more than he lets on, he just doesn’t want to seem like he does. You know?”
“I know exactly,” Tami smiled. “I’m proud of you, honey.”
“Thanks,” Julie said, smiling down at her plate.
“Wait,” Eric said, looking up for his dinner for the first time. “What do you mean, Oprah? Tim Riggins watches Oprah?”
Chapter 2
Author: lindentree
Rating: R (for the series; this part is just PG)
Character(s): Tim/Julie
Word Count: 3,267
Summary: After 2x11, "Jumping the Gun", Julie's parents come up with an appropriate punishment for her - tutoring Tim Riggins.
Notes: This is actually the very first Tim/Julie fic I wrote, and it is the first of several parts of the same story. It's been kicking around for about two months; I've been working on it slowly while writing shorter fics here and there to get a feel for the pairing. It's very possible that the tutoring concept has been done to death already, but I hope my rendition is readable all the same.
The title is a lyric from Sam Cooke's "Wonderful World", an adorable love song if ever there was one.
Thanks (as ever) to the_wanlorn for the help and encouragement. ♥
Julie Taylor could not believe what she was hearing.
“You had better believe it, honey. You are going to drag Tim Riggins through his English class if it kills you both.”
“Why me? Are you sure Dad really okayed this?”
Tami set down the knife she was using to chop peppers for their salad, and raised her eyebrows at her daughter.
“Excuse me? Why you? Do we need to go over your drinking and staying out past curfew and lying and getting Tim in trouble again? Because we sure can, if you really need to.”
"Mom, come on! I've got enough of my own schoolwork without doing his for him."
"Jules, you are absolutely not doing his homework for him, you're tutoring him because he needs it, and because your father and I say so. This is how you're going to make up for that bad decision. Not only to me and your father, but to Tim, too. He took a hit for you when you should have been honest, honey."
Julie's whine stopped short in her throat. She wanted to point out that she had already apologized to him for that, but she didn't bother. Her mother was wearing her 'I mean business' face, which Julie knew meant that her punishment was going to stick.
"Fine," she huffed. "His place or mine?"
Tami scoffed. “He's gonna come over here every day after practice until his English teacher can show me that he's improving. He already knows about it, and he’s going to come over tomorrow afternoon. You’ll just have to get your own homework done before he comes over."
Tami turned away and resumed fixing dinner.
"It'll be a cold day in July before any daughter of mine is allowed at the Rigginses' house, tutoring or no tutoring."
***
Julie spent the next day in a state of petulant irritation over her punishment. It wasn’t that she had anything against Tim. The opposite was the case, actually. Ever since the night she went over to apologise for the whole Riley thing, he smiled at her in the hallways and waved at her from his truck if he happened to pass her on the street. Tim was okay, for a football player. No, the problem was that she was still more than a little embarrassed about what happened the night of the party. She felt so stupid about the whole thing, the entire concept of having been rescued. He probably thought she was a dumb kid, unable to look after herself.
It didn’t help when she told Lois about her unfortunate plight. The news sent Lois into a tailspin of ridiculous (and somewhat creepy, Julie felt) ecstatic glee, culminating in her begging ceaselessly for an invitation to their tutoring sessions, or at least dinner, until Julie abandoned her half-eaten tuna croquettes and left a sputtering Lois alone at their table in the cafeteria.
Julie was mulling her grave misfortune over for the hundredth time (while pretending to do her American History homework) when she heard the rumble of Tim’s truck in the driveway. Groaning, she put her books aside and went to answer the subsequent knock on the door.
Tim Riggins stood on her doorstep, all messy hair, unkempt clothes and aviators hiding the dark circles under his eyes. He was empty-handed except for his keys, which dangled from one hand.
“Hey, Taylor,” he greeted her, removing his glasses.
“Hi, Tim,” she replied softly, feeling shy. “Come on in.”
She walked back into the house. “I guess we’ll work at the table,” she said, gesturing to the piece of furniture as though Tim might not know what she meant.
Tim nodded, setting down his glasses and his keys.
“So,” said Julie a little too brightly, “What’s the plan?”
Tim looked at her. “The plan?”
“Yeah, the plan. For studying.”
“Uh,” he said, frowning, “I guess I was thinking you’d tell me. You being the tutor and all.”
“Right!” she replied, “Obviously.”
They stood silently for a beat, Tim staring at Julie like she’d grown an extra head.
“Do you want something to drink?” Julie asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Uh, sure,” Tim replied, taking a seat at the table.
Julie stood in front of the open fridge. “We’ve got juice, soda, water... What do you want?”
“I guess beer’s out of the question, huh?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Julie smiled. She poured them each a glass of water and came back into the family room. “I’m off beer myself, actually.”
“I bet,” Tim replied, accepting the glass of water.
“Listen,” Julie said, setting her glass down on the table and twisting her hands together awkwardly. “About that... I know we already kind of talked about it or whatever, but I just wanted to say that I’m actually really embarrassed about that whole night, and if we could just maybe kind of not talk about it, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Oh,” Tim said, appraising her. “That why you’re acting all jumpy?”
“Jumpy?”
“Well, yeah. You just seem kinda weird.”
“Oh,” Julie said, blushing. “Yeah, I guess I’m just really embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. I’ve done worse.”
“I bet no one’s ever had to come to your rescue before,” she replied.
“It’s happened once or twice... Could have used a rescue a few more times.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” he replied. “But you’ll be all right. Everyone’s gotta fall flat on their face now and then. Ask anybody who’s ever had a drink and they’ll tell you stories about times they’ve humiliated themselves or done something dumb. We’ve all been there.”
“Thanks, Tim,” she said, oddly touched. “That’s actually kinda reassuring.”
They regarded each other for a moment, and Julie noticed Tim had that funny smile he got on his face sometimes when he was talking to her dad.
"Okay," she said, clearing her throat and leafing through some papers which had been sitting on the table. "We should get going. My mom got me copies of your class syllabus and assignments so I'll know what's going on in your English class basically all the time. Sorry,” she apologised, seeing Tim grimace. “You've got a test this week, and it's on A Separate Peace. Have you read it?"
"Sure have," Tim said, nodding.
"Don't bother lying. It's a waste of time."
"No, I haven't read it."
"It's okay, there's still time. But you'll have to get going. Read as much as you can tonight, and we'll go over what you've read tomorrow."
Tim agreed without protest.
“So what did you do in class today? What homework do you have?” Julie asked.
“I dunno,” said Tim. “To be honest, I was at The Landing Strip with Billy.”
Julie sighed. This was going to be an uphill climb.
***
Julie dashed through the halls, hoping to make it to Tim’s English class before the bell rang. She was going to be late for their tutoring session that evening because she had an interview at Applebee’s. She was excited - she knew she could make good tips as a waitress, and Tyra worked there, which would make it less like work.
She arrived, panting, at the right classroom, and stood aside as the door was flung open and students began to stream out. She would have phoned him, but as it turned out, Tim was about the only person at Dillon High School who did not have a cell phone. Thankfully, her copy of Tim’s timetable enabled her to track him down.
Unfortunately, Tim was nowhere to be found. Julie waited until the class emptied, but he didn’t appear. Cautiously, she poked her head into the classroom, where the teacher was tidying up.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Kramer?” Julie asked.
“Hi Julie,” the kind teacher replied. “How’re you doing today?”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Kramer, how are you?” Julie smiled.
“I’m doing fine, thank you. What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering - was Tim Riggins in class today?”
Mrs. Kramer gave an uncharacteristic guffaw. “No, Tim Riggins was not in class today. Call up the National Guard.”
Julie raised her eyebrows, taken aback at the teacher’s sarcasm. “Is he sick?”
“No, he just cut class, as usual. Why do you need to know?” she said, glancing at Julie curiously. “Oh, honey. Please don’t tell me you’re dating that boy.”
“No,” Julie stammered, embarrassed. “We’re not dating. I’m tutoring him for your class.”
Mrs. Kramer stared for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Oh, of course! Of course you are. I spoke to Mrs. Taylor about it, I remember. I’m sorry, sweetie. Of course you’re not dating Tim Riggins. You’re such a smart girl.”
“Thanks,” Julie replied, frowning. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal, I’ll see him later on for tutoring.”
“Listen, sweetheart,” Mrs. Kramer said softly. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re doing this. I really do. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. You’re such a caring, intelligent girl. I know you want to help him, but that boy is his own worst enemy, and I just... I don’t want you to think badly of yourself when he fails, all right?”
“When he fails?” Julie repeated. “The semester isn’t over yet. He’s got time to make it up.”
“Oh, he’s got time,” Mrs. Kramer agreed, turning back to her tidying up. “He just hasn’t got much else.”
Julie stared at the teacher’s back. Julie loved Mrs. Kramer - she’d had her in her freshman year, and she had loved Julie and always encouraged her and given her lots of recommendations for supplementary reading. But right now she didn’t seem like the same teacher at all.
“Okay,” Julie said, turning to go. “Thanks anyway.”
“Sure thing, honey,” Mrs. Kramer replied. “Don’t worry too much about Tim Riggins. He always seems to find a way to squeak by in the end.”
Julie left the classroom and closed the door behind her, leaning up against it for a moment. Were her parents the only people who thought there was more to Tim Riggins than a drunk, underachieving jock?
***
When Lois dropped Julie off at home after her (successful, she hoped) interview, she found Tim’s truck parked in the driveway. Expecting him to be sitting on the front steps, she was surprised to see an elbow sticking out of the driver’s side window of his truck. He was asleep.
Julie cleared her throat sharply. Tim groaned and opened his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy. “Where were you?”
“I had an interview at Applebee’s. I tried to tell you earlier, but when I went to your English class to catch you, you weren’t there.”
He blinked at her as though he was trying to make sense of the words she was using. “Uh, no. I wasn’t there.”
“I guess we’ve got a lot of work to do, then,” she said, turning to go into the house.
He followed her inside, where he promptly sprawled out on the couch and picked up the remote control.
“What are you doing?” Julie asked as he turned the TV on and began flipping the channels.
“I just wanna check the weather,” he replied.
Julie came around and stood by the couch, her arms crossed over her chest. Tim had landed on ESPN.
“That doesn’t look like the weather,” she said.
“I just wanna check some scores, too.”
Rolling her eyes, Julie took a step towards him and plucked the remote from his hand.
“You do realise you’re here to study, right? That’s been explained to you?” she asked, turning the TV off.
“I know, I know. We’ll get to it.”
“I have homework of my own to do, you know - “
"Hey, look!" Tim interrupted, looking intently past her into the backyard.
"What?" she replied, her head whipping around to look out the French doors. Seeing nothing, she frowned, and was about to ask him what was wrong with his eyesight when the remote control was snatched out of her hands.
"Hey!"
"Oldest trick in the book," he smiled, holding the remote out of her reach and turning the TV on once again. "Can't believe you fell for it."
"Ugh," Julie groaned. "Come on, Tim."
"I'll make you a deal," he said, "Just Oprah and then we'll get started."
"No! My mom's going to be home soon and if you think she's not going to ask a bunch of probing questions to find out how much we've done, you're delusional."
Julie walked over to the TV, leaning over to unplug it. As Tim stared, slack-jawed, she walked back over to him and plucked the remote out of his hand.
"I'm going to go hide this," she said, waving the remote at him, "and you can go sit down at the table and start reading."
"Okay," Tim said loudly as she left the room. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Taylor."
"You're so funny, Timmy," Julie replied in a high-pitched, breathy voice, coming back into the room with a small stack of books in her arms. "Gosh, you sure were great in the game tonight! The way you tried to take that guy's head off, well, it's enough to make a rally girl lightheaded."
Tim grinned at her from the couch.
"Come on," she said, setting the books on the table and sitting down. "Let's go, seriously. The faster we get going, the faster we're both off the hook."
Groaning, Tim dragged himself from the couch and came to the table, sitting down next to Julie. He scowled, resting his head glumly in his hands.
“So how far did you get into A Separate Peace?” Julie asked.
“Oh, pretty far,” he replied.
“Yeah? What do you think of it?”
“It’s great. Really interesting.”
“Have you gotten as far as the big shoot-out between the two rival gangs?”
“Yeah, that’s right about where I stopped last night. That sure was exciting.”
“I know. It’s my favourite part. Except maybe the part with the sex change. I didn’t see that twist coming.”
“Me neither,” Tim agreed, frowning slightly.
“I’m not into the subplot about the cult leader with all the groupies, though. To be honest, I never really got the point of it, but that’s something we can discuss later.”
“Sure,” he nodded, glancing curiously down at the book on the table.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, though. I’m glad you’re taking this so seriously, too. Because there are lots of other things I could be doing with my time, you know?”
“I really appreciate it,” Tim said, nodding again.
Julie glared at him for a moment, then scoffed. She wanted to tell him what had happened with Mrs. Kramer earlier, that pretty much everyone was expecting him to fail, but at the last moment, she decided not to. “You are actually unbelievable,” she said. “You skipped class yesterday and today, and you haven’t read a single word of that book.”
Tim had the decency to look sheepish.
“Tim, you’ve got to read this book if you’re going to pass the test. You’re running out of time.”
"Okay," he agreed, looking genuinely contrite. "I promise I’ll read it as soon as I get home tonight. Can we watch Oprah now?"
"Wow," Julie replied. "I can see why my parents thought this would be a good punishment."
Tim didn't reply, just sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
"If you don't pass this test you'll be failing English, and you'll get kicked off the team. Again."
"I know that," he mumbled sullenly.
"Look, what do you do to motivate yourself when you're at practice and you're hungover and exhausted and Coach is putting you through drill after drill and it's like 120 degrees out - how do you push through that?"
"Are you actually comparing football to English class right now?"
"Just answer the question."
"Uh," he said, glancing at her and looking uncomfortable. "I think about Friday night, about the Friday night after that, about playoffs, about state. About how good it feels to take a guy down. That kinda thing."
"Then I think that's what you should do. Think about your assignments and tests as part of the process of getting to state. If you don't pass, you don't play."
Tim frowned, considering this.
"It's not a big deal if you're not the world's best student. School isn't for everyone. But you still have to pass, and not just so you can play football."
"All right, all right," he said. "I get it."
"Good," Julie said, leafing through the papers once more. She stopped at a test paper with a big, red D at the top next to Tim's messily scrawled name. "Okay, here's your last test, on Death of a Salesman. Let's go over that and see where you went wrong."
She read the questions, squinting at Tim's answers. "Um, I can't actually read anything you've written here, so you're going to have to translate."
***
Julie was setting the table for dinner when her mother finally asked the question Julie had been waiting for.
“So honey, how’s the tutoring going?” Tami asked, checking the pasta cooking on the stove.
“It’s going fine,” Julie said, as her father emerged from the master bedroom, dressed in casual clothes instead of his usual Panthers gear, his hair damp from the shower, and baby Gracie in his arms.
“What’s going fine?” he asked, checking out the dinner and giving his wife a kiss.
“I was just asking Jules how things are going with Tim,” Tami replied.
“I thought there was no football talk at the table,” he said, sneaking an errant noodle when Tami leaned over the sink to drain the spaghetti.
“It’s not football talk, Dad. It’s English talk, actually.”
“Yeah, well, it’s still about one of my players,” he grumped.
“Honey, dinner is just about the only time we have to talk to our daughter, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to find out how things are going. Jules?”
“I said it’s going fine,” Julie said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the salad and tongs.
“Fine how? Is he making progress? Is he reading, doing his assignments? Is he giving you trouble? Give me some details here, sweetie.”
“Just so I’m clear, am I talking to my mom, or to Mrs. Taylor, Dillon High guidance counselor?”
Tami arched an eyebrow, planting one hand firmly on her hip. Julie glanced at her father, who smiled and looked away.
“I hate it when y’all ask that question,” Tami grumbled.
“It’s a fair question,” Eric said.
“All right, fine,” Tami said. “You’re talking to Mrs. Taylor, guidance counselor,” she conceded, carrying the platter of spaghetti and meat sauce over to the table. Her daughter and husband joined her, Eric disappearing towards the bedrooms to put Gracie to bed.
“He’s doing really well, Mrs. Taylor,” Julie said, with a playful smirk, as the family sat down to dinner. “We’re making some good progress. He’s got a reading quiz this week, so we’ll see what happens.”
“Great,” Tami replied. “Now, what does my daughter have to say to her mother about it?”
“Well, he’s only asked me to do his homework once. He’d rather be watching Sports Center or Oprah than talking about novels or poetry, but he’s trying,” she said. “I think he might like reading more than he lets on, he just doesn’t want to seem like he does. You know?”
“I know exactly,” Tami smiled. “I’m proud of you, honey.”
“Thanks,” Julie said, smiling down at her plate.
“Wait,” Eric said, looking up for his dinner for the first time. “What do you mean, Oprah? Tim Riggins watches Oprah?”
Chapter 2