Brady, the University of New York's newest point guard for their basketball team was fresh to the idea of freedom since he has barely been out of high-school, and his parents tight grasp around him. Life had been hitting him with all it's freedoms, and he had indulged in it the entire time, letting his grades and school itself fall into the back-seat, living off the high believing that he'd grow into a professional basketball player, and compete with everyone in the NBA, including DeRozan, and several others he was aspiring to try and be like. He soon found out though that life has an interesting way of catching up to you.
He woke up late on the Thursday, a voice-mail on his phone from his guidance counselor at school. He made a groggled, and tired sounds, incoherent with what was probably a 'What now?'but all that left him was his morning tiredness. After listening to the voice-mail, he had to stop himself from throwing his phone across the room in anguish, and instead dropped it to his bed. He used almost every word in the bad dictionary he could before finally getting up. He had to find a tutor by the end of the day, and turn his grades around by the end of the semester; or else.
Or else to him was always a middle-ground, sometimes you could get away with it, or you'd actually get burned. The air of confidence he'd had around him was still there, but a little bit deflated now, especially that the school was seriously considering axing him, and while he showered, he repeatedly thought of tutors he'd heard around of at school, there as only a few he could think of, and most of them were people he didn't mix well with, un-fun people who when they tried to teach him, would probably have a easier time hurting him physically then teaching him some philosophy.
Hopping out of the shower, dressing and throwing on his clothes for the day, Brady was quickly leaving his dormitory, and heading back onto the school's campus to begin hunting for that one tutor his friend's had told him about, the one he hadn't tried, and even a few people recommended he try them out, perhaps they'd actually help him.
He woke up late on the Thursday, a voice-mail on his phone from his guidance counselor at school. He made a groggled, and tired sounds, incoherent with what was probably a 'What now?'but all that left him was his morning tiredness. After listening to the voice-mail, he had to stop himself from throwing his phone across the room in anguish, and instead dropped it to his bed. He used almost every word in the bad dictionary he could before finally getting up. He had to find a tutor by the end of the day, and turn his grades around by the end of the semester; or else.
Or else to him was always a middle-ground, sometimes you could get away with it, or you'd actually get burned. The air of confidence he'd had around him was still there, but a little bit deflated now, especially that the school was seriously considering axing him, and while he showered, he repeatedly thought of tutors he'd heard around of at school, there as only a few he could think of, and most of them were people he didn't mix well with, un-fun people who when they tried to teach him, would probably have a easier time hurting him physically then teaching him some philosophy.
Hopping out of the shower, dressing and throwing on his clothes for the day, Brady was quickly leaving his dormitory, and heading back onto the school's campus to begin hunting for that one tutor his friend's had told him about, the one he hadn't tried, and even a few people recommended he try them out, perhaps they'd actually help him.