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Tanner walks by me, and I watch his fingers flinch before he curls his hands into tight fists, making me wonder what’s going through his head. He’s so emotionally destroyed. I want to help him, but he just won’t let me.
“Everybody, take your seats,” Miss Harper says from behind her desk, her signature scowl resting across her face, only today it seems worse than normal.
I get my notepad out and prepare for the lesson, all too aware of Tanner’s eyes lingering on the side of my face. The class scuffles about, taking all too long to get into their seats and settle down, but the moment Miss Harper stands and calls me out, she has their full attention. “Miss Ashford, stand and make your way to the front of the class.”
My back stiffens and I meet her horrendous stare before flicking my gaze to Arizona across the room. She shrugs, so I hesitantly get to my feet, making my way down the aisle and putting myself front and center. Tanner’s stare is even more intense.
Miss Harper moves from behind her oversized desk, gripping a small stack of familiar papers. She thrusts them into my hand and I hastily glance down at my essay with a big, circled F in the top right corner.
My chest sinks, but before I can start going through the papers, Miss Harper takes her opportunity to scold me. “You’re new here so I understand that some things will take some time to become accustomed to, however this is unacceptable. If you are not going to take your studies seriously, then you will not be welcome to take my class.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask, shaking my head and wanting to skim over my papers again, desperate to figure out where I went wrong but not wanting to look away from her feral stare. “I don’t understand. You asked me to write an essay on a topic of my choice to better understand what concepts I have a firm grasp on, and I believe I delivered exactly what you asked for.”
Her eyes widen and she looks at me as though she just caught me kicking a newborn puppy. “Suit yourself, Miss Ashford. If you feel your essay is appropriate for my class, then go ahead and recite it to the class. We shall see what they think of it.”
Nervousness trickles through me. There’s nothing worse than having to deliver a speech in front of a group of students you don’t really know, but to do it without rehearsing it in front of the mirror a million times is simply unheard of. I’m not the type to just wing it when it comes to my schoolwork. I take it seriously because, without good grades, a girl like me has absolutely no hope of getting into college. I don’t have a sport to fall back on or a stack of money to bribe the admissions office. I have to get in on my merit alone and hope to whoever exists above that they offer me a scholarship.
My gaze falls to my papers, and I do what I can to ignore the intense stare coming from the back corner of the room. This essay was personal, and I don’t exactly feel comfortable sharing it with the class, but I’ll do it if it means passing.
Clearing my throat, I prepare myself to read.
Senior year was supposed to be simple. Everything I’d worked toward was finally within reach, and all I had to do was take it, but in a matter of seconds, my world turned on its head. Life threw me a curveball, and instead of hitting it out of the park, I succumbed to its power. Now I’m scrambling, trying to find my feet in this crazy new world.
In the space of twelve hours, I went from being the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school to being the new girl in a world that judges me based on how much money I have in my bank account, which for the record, is none. I live with people who terrify me, and my mom, well, she’s nothing but a stranger to me now.
All I have in this world is my brother, who would move heaven and hell to protect me if he were still here. I never planned to have to say goodbye to him, and it broke my heart when he left. Now I live in fear every day that he won’t come back, which is ridiculous. He’s at boot camp, not at war! He hasn’t even been gone that long but I’m already terrified. I suppose I’m just scared of what his future might hold. He’s so determined to be nothing like my father, that he left us just the same, and though I know it’s different this time, it doesn’t seem to hurt less.
