Chapter 4: Paul Diggs

Paul Diggs was well-known all around Bea’s high school. He simultaneously both conformed to and exploded stereotypes. He was an African American, he was well over six feet tall and powerfully built, even stocky. He played offensive guard on the football team, lining up next to the center (who hiked the ball). On the field he was known for his aggressive and powerful playing style.

He was also seen towering over his friends in the Calculus Club, known as the “Mathletes.”

Off the field, he was soft-spoken, polite, and friendly. Except when he saw a couple of juniors (grade 11) toss a 9th grader into an open locker in the hall. He dropped his book bag with a bang and grabbed both of the juniors by their shirts in his fists.

“I believe you gentlemen owe this young man an apology.”

The first one immediately caved and said he was very sorry. Paul released him, and he scuttled away. The second junior was more belligerent.

“Let go of me, asshole.”

Paul altered and twisted his grip, pulling the shirt tighter and tighter around his ribcage. Meanwhile, the palm of his other hand pressed into the jerk’s belly, pushing more and more deeply in the direction of his spine.

Breathing became restricted, difficult, and finally impossible. After about a half minute more had passed, the fool’s expression was fading from a snarl into a look of desperation. Paul had immobilized him but not caused any visible damage. Paul watched him carefully, waiting for him to signal a change of heart.

“Is there something you would like to say?”

He nodded.

“Are you sure? Changed your mind?”

He nodded more urgently, and Paul released the belly pressure.

“I’m sorry. Let me go!”

“Oh? What’s the magic word?”

“Please.”

Once released, the second bully scampered away quickly. Bea had been nearby, watching the whole thing. Screwing up her courage, she stepped forward and touched Paul’s elbow.

“Paul? My name is Bea. Mr. Koenig told me you were on the list for tutoring calculus, is that right?”

“That’s right, Bea. What can I do for you?”

She felt a little uncertain but forged ahead. He was probably 10 inches taller than she was, and his deep bass voice seemed to rumble inside her body.

“This is going to sound weird, but I would like to propose an exchange. Coach Ramsey told me you were struggling in your English class with your writing. I want to swap with you. Half the time we do my calculus, the other half we do your writing. Ms. Carpenter will vouch for my skills; she referred me to her friend for a job getting paid to edit porn stories.”

Bea smiled at him to show she was teasing.

“I’m kidding. Ms. Carpenter doesn’t write porn stories, as far as I know. But she will verify that I know my stuff. Deal?”