Free Point Me to Tomorrow by Veronica Chambers

matter I wanted to discuss with you,” Mr. Stevens explained. “Could you follow me back to my office?”
    Jamie smiled. “Don’t tell me! Harvard has already accepted our girl—no application necessary.”
    Mr. Stevens laughed. “Oh, but if only it were so. Unfortunately, everyone has to do an application for every school, even Ms. Cruz.”
    Alicia waved to her friends. “Hey, I’ll meet you guys at the quad in the morning. Last one in buys the lattes!”
    Sitting in Mr. Stevens’s office, Alicia felt a wave of apprehension. An exceptionally good student, she’d spent precious little time in the administrative offices. Although she knew she wasn’t in any kind of trouble, the fact that Mr. Stevens wanted to see her and had in fact been looking for her made her a little nervous.
    She sat up a little straighter as she spoke, channeling Alicia the self-assured quince planner. “Hey, Mr. Stevens, what’s up?” she asked, putting on the same mature air she tried to project to her clients’ parents.
    Mr. Stevens pointed to one of the many surfing posters on the wall. “Riding giants, that’s what’s up.”
    Alicia was fond of Mr. Stevens, but she had a tough time following everything he said. She had always thought she was familiar with all kinds of slang because she had grown up in multicultural Miami—a city that was known for being an international melting pot. But Mr. Stevens was a math genius/surfer dude, and she hadn’t been around his kind enough to catch all of his references.
    â€œExcuse me?” she asked.
    Mr. Stevens had on a bright Hawaiian-print golf shirt. Alicia thought he looked as if he’d just gotten off the plane in Maui and was waiting for a local beauty to wrap a lei around his neck. Even though his sense of fashion was corny, he was still definitely cute.
    â€œI know it’s short notice,” he said. “But I teach this Saturday morning surf class for small-business owners. The new session starts this weekend. It’s all about learning how to read the waves—in business and on the beach. It occurs to me that you might like to check it out. There might be some good contacts there for your business. You could learn a few management techniques that would help you with your quince planning….”
    Alicia was the last person who would have corrected anyone on his or her Spanish pronunciation. But when Mr. Stevens pronounced the word as “kwince,” she had to speak up.
    â€œActually, Mr. S.,” she said, “the word quince is pronounced ‘keen-say.’”
    â€œWhoa. Good to know,” he replied, sincerely appreciative. “Thanks. See, you’ve already taken a page from my soon-to-be-written Surfboard to Boardroom business book.”
    â€œAnd what’s that?” Alicia asked.
    â€œBe protective of what you value,” he replied. “You value your Latina heritage. So you protect it. Just like I value the culture of surfing, so I do my best to protect it. So, will you come on Saturday? I’d love to teach you how to surf.”
    Alicia was a little apprehensive. Mr. Stevens was cool, but she always pictured surfing as something she’d pick up on some mellow spring-break trip, not during the busiest fall season of her entire life, and not with a group of small-business owners. It sounded as boring as the few chamber of commerce meetings she’d attended. “Um, can I bring two friends?” she asked. “I don’t run Amigas Inc. solo.”
    â€œOf course!” he replied. “Just make sure your friends are ready to get down, B to B.”
    Alicia was confused again. “Excuse me?”
    â€œBoard to business,” Mr. Stevens cheerily explained. “The business of being literally and figuratively on board.”
    Alicia smiled and looked at her watch. She was due to meet Gaz at the mall during his break, in half