after going through John’s notes on how to use these supposed “elements,” Mitch threw his arms up in defeat and swore. “I thought I was already doing that.” John pursed his lips. “Have you considered getting a tutor?” Mitch bristled. “I don’t need help.” John pointed at the assignment in Mitch’s hands. Fuck, a tutor? As if he wasn’t broke enough already? And working something else into his already busy schedule? He groaned and sagged in his chair. If it would help him get his GPA up so he could stay at GH, so be it. “Is there one who can work around hockey practices and games and my part-time
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