Finding You - Book 1

Julius Andrew Snow

Monday, November 2nd

Walking to school is almost always the best part of my day since the start of sixth form. We started in September, and I came out to my whole year as bisexual and, as news did in school, it spread like wildfire. I was in a small friend group, borderline the “weird friend” group, and coming out as bisexual gave the popular lads a chance to make gay jokes and throw an insult whenever I was within earshot. This greatly ruined sixth form for me, but I’m very hopeful that things will soon improve; they’ll get used to the fact I’m not straight at some point.

The three people who I told first, in year 9, were Elijah, Samantha, Charli my four closest friends who completed the borderline-weird-friend group. Charli moved to college, deciding sixth form wasn’t the right option for her, and our friend group has felt strange since the start of September without her presence.

I’ve always been set on doing a science-related career, so sixth form was the easy option and I ended up picking biology, chemistry and psychology as my three subjects for the next two years. Elijah and Samantha were both creative and artsy and had chosen the same A-Levels: art, English literature and psychology and the first two of those subjects made me feel sick. Science was where everything made logical sense and had proof to back it up. Science was the best.

I go straight to form even though morning attendance is still ten minutes away as sitting in the field with the popular lads trying to provoke a fight soon got tiring. As soon as I enter form, Samantha’s cheery voice greets me with, “Jay! How was half term?” And a hug accompanies the voice shortly after.

“It was good thanks. The highlight being our movie night, of course,” I smiled as I pull back from the hug, grinning at Sam’s unruly brown curls as they fall to her shoulder blades. “What about you?”

“Literally the exact same.”

And we chat a little bit more, laugh a bit until the bell for registration goes and we go to our corner table, hoping the popular people ignore us and sit at the front. A minute after the bell, the class floods in and I sigh in relief as the popular group sits in the massive table at the front leaving Sam and I alone until Elijah joins us, a couple of minutes late as usual. Miss DeSouza takes our register and there’s a lot of chatter as everyone catches up with their mates and I’m also laughing with Sam and Elijah when I hear Miss DeSouza call my name, “Jay, come here, please.”

Just at the mention of my name, the popular lads turn with a smirk on their faces and I simply hang my head and walk to the front, ignoring the howls of, “Did ya dress up as a straight dude for Halloween?” “Nah, he wouldn’t pull it off. He’s too gay.” “Literally.” “Oh wait, wait. He’s bi. Not gay.” More laughter until the teacher tells them to shut up and as I near her, she gives me a sympathetic smile. I shrug.

“So, someone in your year needs biology tutoring, and you’re top of the class, so if you’re up for it, would you be okay to tutor Will Crescent once a week? It’d look good on your CV.”

“No. I’m good.”

Because Will Crescent is an asshole. Maybe not directly, but he’s a popular lad who just stood by when all his friends made fun of me. Maybe he’s just too shy to actually make a homophobic joke, but he is still part of that group, and so no, I would not be up for tutoring a person like him.

“Look, Jay,” Miss DeSouza said as I turned to walk away, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I know you think he’s just another bully, and I know he was part of that group, but something happened, and he’s struggling, and he’s a nice boy deep down. If he was like the others, why would he ask me about getting tutored?”

And in all honesty, that did make sense. If he cared about education, he couldn’t be as bad as the popular guys, and like his teacher said, a bit of tutoring always looked good on CVs and university applications. I turned around and did a quick sweep of the table occupied by the popular group and I realise Will’s not sitting there and one of my eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“Where even is Will?” I ask.

“It’s confidential.”

And I decide not to push it, and maybe it won’t be too bad. Just an hour once a week, and maybe, like DeSouza suggested, Will wasn’t a total idiot. “Okay.”

“Great! Both of you have a free lesson last, so start then please. Room 17 will be free and it has computers,” DeSouza instructs and I nod and walk away, joining Sam and Elijah.

“What was that about?” Elijah inquires.

“I’m tutoring Will,” I answer.

“As in Will Crescent?” Sam asks, mouth agape.

“Yes?”

“Why?” Elijah asked and I didn’t really have an answer so I just awkwardly shrugged. “You idiot.”

“Shut up,” I say, rolling my eyes, “It won’t be too bad.”

“We’ll see,” Sam says, shaking her head and then the bell goes, and we all wander off to first lessons and as I sit through class after class, and as last period gets closer and closer, I hate what I’ve gotten myself into. I’ve tutored before, but just as a friend and never properly, never official enough to write it on applications, or whatever, and my idiot brain decided that my first official tutoring will be with a popular guy. Just great.

And last lesson strolls around sooner than I wanted it to, and I’m rather unhappy about this as I make my very slow way over to the computer room, hoping I’m the first one there, but I’ve been beaten by Will.

Will sits there, in front of a computer at the corner of the room, and I’ve never really looked at him properly, but now that I do, I can’t help notice his curly, unruly black hair that he brushes away from his forehead, or his high cheekbones that are basically to die for.

Get yourself together, Julius.

I walk over, and as if the hair and cheekbones weren’t attractive enough, when his gaze lands on me, I’m awestruck by his eyes. They’re deep blue, like oceans, and it’s possible to visualise a dark night with waves lapping against the shore with one look at his eyes. He gently coughs, and I shake myself out of my reverie. He gives me a crooked smile.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is deep and warm, yet again remind me of oceans like his voice did.

“Hi,” I say, “Alright, mate?”

“Yeah, you?” he answers as I pull up a chair next to him.

“Not bad thanks,” I reply, logging on, “So um... What topics do you struggle with?”

“Is ‘all of them’ an adequate answer?” he grins and I can’t help but return the grin. Maybe he wasn’t an asshole.

I chuckle, rather unwillingly, and return, “We can work with it.”

“Thanks,” Will smiles, and the genuineness of the word takes me by surprise, his voice so real, unlike anyone from the popular group.

I gulp. “Yeah. No problem, mate.”

I’m logged on and I find the AQA website where I can find the full course content for our A-Level biology course and the first thing on there is ‘Biological Molecules’. I turn my screen slightly so that Will can see and suggest, “Let’s start with that, huh?”

“Sounds good, Mr Snow,” Will says with a teasing smile and I fight profusely to hide embarrassed blush.

“Don’t call me that,” I say, swatting his arm playfully.

“Noted. Sounds good, Julius.”

“I’m surprised you know my name, to be honest.”

“What?” Will’s voice rises an octave, an eyebrow quirking up and that’s when I realised I’d said that out loud.

“Sorry, that was meant to be inside my head,” I give an awkward laugh, “You’re just... Popular, you know? And I’m close enough to a nobody.”

“Hey,” Will says, voice mellowing into that deep, ocean tone, “We’ve been in the same biology class since GCSEs. I’m not that up myself.”

I thought you were. I was glad when that actually stayed inside my head.

“Oh... Um... I’m glad?”

The hesitancy of my answer makes Will sputter and then he laughs, a reverberating laugh that is rather musical. And I stare at him, willing whatever sparks were exploding in my heart to die down. Focus, Julius.

“Shall we, um start?”

And that we do. I’m quite familiar with revision materials, so I find a website which has important notes on to jog my memory and the brief notes awaken my detailed memory of the topic and I explain each of the small notes to Will in detail, encouraging him to write the brief pointers into his notebook so they can act as cues when he comes to revise them.

When the final bell goes, I’m pretty sure Will knows the structure of alpha and beta glucose in great detail, and the difference between monosaccharides and polysaccharides and some examples of both.

We both log off on our computers, and me being the awkward person I am, hold my hand out for a bloody handshake. “Good session.”

And then it hits me what the hell I’m doing and I lower my hand, flushing all the way down to my neck. “Jesus Christ, what am I doing?”

Will simply laughs and I’m quite certain he’s going to laugh at me, his façade of a kind, wanting-to-learn pupil will fade away, when he holds out his hand. “Good session.”

This time I laugh, but I shake his hand and we both erupt into a fit of giggles, where one’s laugh invokes the others and when we finally calm down, I ask, “When are you free to learn about cellulose?”

“Tomorrow first lesson?”

And I forget the fact tutoring is meant to only be once a week and end up enthusiastically nodding, knowing I don’t have a lesson then. “Sounds good.”

And we smile at each other, and it’s kind of awkward, but his ocean-gaze is quite hard to look away and I’m yelling at myself and I finally turn away, wave awkwardly and am about to depart home. That is until Will’s voice stops me.

“Jay?”

I turn slowly. “Yes?”

“I’m so sorry.”

I genuinely have no clue why he’s sorry, but his expression is pained, eyes tight in the corner. I walk over. “Why? For taking half an hour remember the formula of glucose?”

No smile. I make an apologetic face, “Sorry. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry about everything my friends said to you. I’m sorry about not saying anything against them or helping you out. I’m sorry for not saying sorry sooner. I’m... I’m not friends with them anymore, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be mad at me, and when I asked for tutoring, I was kind of hoping it wouldn’t be you, because you probably hate me for everything my group put you through the last few months, and it was really bad, and like... I’m genuinely happy that you get to be yourself so bravely. I...”

And Will was rambling, and I realise Miss DeSouza was right. He genuinely isn’t a bad person and I can tell that from that fact he’s blaming himself, from the fact he’s said sorry at least ten times, and from the fact it’s not just ‘sorry’; it has weight and explanations behind it, and I smile, kind of relieved for unknown reasons that Will isn’t an idiot. “Will, it’s okay.”

He’s not stopping his ramblings, head bowed down and still saying sorry, but I want him to stop, the pain around his face making my heart clench for reasons I can’t explain. “Will, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” Still rambling. ”William."

And now he actually looks up at me and I’m embarrassed again because of using his full name. What teenager does that? “Sorry, that’s probably what your parents call you when they’re mad. I just... You were rambling, but it’s okay. Honestly. We can forget that... those comments happened.”

“But it’s not okay, is it?” Will asks, voice broken.

“Obviously not, but we can’t do anything about it. Don’t... blame yourself. It’s hard to be someone who does something contrary to expectations. I’ll be honest, when I came to tutor you, I did think you’d be an arsehole, but you’re not, and it’s okay, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And I turn and walk away, because otherwise, I might’ve hugged him, and made things weird and awkward.

“Um... Bye.” I hear Will’s soft voice and inwardly groan and smile at the same time. Maybe tutoring Will wouldn’t be too bad.