Emily stared blankly at her book. What was a protagonist again? She turned her head away, trying to remember- she knew that she had heard her English teacher talking about this at some point, but at the time she might have thought it was a potato. She turned back to the book, skimming the text. A protagonist is the central character of a plot line. She stared some more. What exactly was that? Great, now she'd have to look up 'central character' and 'plot line' as well. She flipped to the back of her book, going through the glossary. There was no central character or plot line in the list of words. Emily sighed and threw the book off her bed. "Go away," she ordered it. "I don't need you to tell me how much a protocol creates pots." She honestly had no idea what she was saying, and she wasn't sure that she'd ever figure out. English was definitely not her strong suit.

Her computer was still there, and there was her DS, Monferno and PewDiePie waiting for her. Emily groaned and kicked the book. "Why do you have to be so difficult?" The book didn't respond, and Emily fell back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Great. That was one plan that obviously wasn't going to work. She had tried paying attention in English class that day, but Ms. Bennett had kept talking about Santa Claus, India, and depots, things that she really had no idea as to how they were related to English. Emily rolled off her bed and walked into the hallway, wandering aimlessly down the stairs.

"Emily!" her mom called, making her stop her meandering and turn to face her mother. "I just put in an order at Hungry Howie's, would you mind going to pick it up for me? Here," she said, shoving a twenty in Emily's hands. Next thing Emily knew, her mom was busying herself with some important-looking animal papers. Emily stood there for a second, a little bewildered, but shook it off and grabbed her coat, stepping through the door and outside onto the house's porch. 

"Order for Alder," she muttered to herself, walking down the road. She eventually made it to the crossing, and with a quick glance to ensure that she wasn't about to become roadkill, she sprinted across. She stuffed the twenty in her pocket and walked as slowly as she could Emily inwardly groaned as she realized that she was going slowly because she didn't want to get back to trying to decipher her English book.

Emily put her head down and kept walking. That book might as well be written in Greek as to what she could read from it. She'd probably end up failing the exams, getting held back. That was something that she wasn't willing to accept. Sure, low grades were fine. Not making it to the next grade? Even if she hadn't ended up with her annoying brother, she'd be laughed at. People who had been held back were always talked about in hushed voices, even in their new grade, as if they were extraordinarily stupid. Emily didn't want to stand that. Not to mention that Jacob would move on, too, leaving her with practically nobody she knew and was willing to play with who was a gamer.

She eventually made it to Hungry Howie's, a broken down pizza restaurant built in the middle of a crumbling parking lot. Apparently it was a big chain restaurant, but if you had only ever seen the one, you would have thought it was a small family business that was about to go out of business. Emily stepped around the puddles of slush and pushed open the door, a rusty bell ringing half-heartedly.

Nobody was at the counter, but a girl who liked as if she was in college was setting a tray of pizza in front of an elderly couple. When she saw Emily, she rushed over, stopping behind the counter. "How can I help you?"

"Order for Alder," Emily said distractedly, still thinking about her school problem. She dug the twenty bucks out of her pocket and set it on the counter. The waitress took the bill, placed three seventy on the counter in front of her, and spun around quickly.

She called into the kitchen, "Alder!" and instants later reappeared with a box of pizza. She shoved it towards Emily, obviously expecting her to take it and leave, but Emily was still staring off into space. "Hey, you okay?"

Emily blinked, coming back to Earth. "Oh. Uh- yeah, sorry." She swept the change into her pockets, grabbing the pizza box. "Just- just thinking."

"'Bout what?" the waitress asked, wiping a spot of sauce off the counter with a rag. The white name tag on her shirt caught the light, revealing the word 'Tiffany'.

"School stuff," Emily said, still thinking. "I need to get my grades up."

Tiffany seemed somewhat interested. "In what?"

"English."

"What's your name?"

"Emily. Emily Alder."

Tiffany seemed to be having an internal debate. Finally, she said, "See me here at Saturday at one in the afternoon, let's see what we can do."

Emily turned to her, completely missing what she had just said. "What?"

Tiffany let out a small sigh, or maybe it was only a clip with her tongue, and took out a pad of paper and pen. She scribbled something on the paper, tore it off the pad, and handed it to her. "Here," she said. "I know this is a little strange, but just call me if you need help. I have the feeling that I could offer some."

Emily stared at the numbers before folding the paper and putting it in her pocket. "Uh, okay." She gripped the pizza box more firmly. "Thanks." Tiffany nodded and she turned around, pushing the door open with her side. The bell made yet another rusted ring as she left the building, back into the cool air. The change from earlier jingled in her pocket, somewhat muffled by the dollar bills and the phone number.

Tiffany, meanwhile, was lost in thought. Okay, so maybe this was a little strange. She hadn't ever actually helped tutor somebody before. But then again, hadn't she wanted to be an English teacher? She thought briefly about the book that she had published; author had been her first choice, but a teacher would be a close second. Shaking her head, she continued to wipe small spots of tomato sauce off of the counter top. She knew who the Alders were; in a small town, practically everybody knew who everybody was. She was here for one college year, and when she went back, she'd be applying for a degree in engineering. Maybe, though, helping this kid would help her get up to being an author, or something Tiffany actually wanted to be.