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“What do you mean I have to drop a class? But, then I’ll get behind!” I focus on breathing through my nose and out of my mouth but it’s no use.
The small cramped office is stuffy and I feel like I’m in here everyday. Books and papers line the shelves, stacks of them on the desk, with other items mixed in, like pens, white out, and tape.
There’s so much chaos in here it makes my head want to explode.
I can’t drop a class. That’ll throw off my entire plan. I have everything worked out down to what classes I need to take every semester in order to graduate on time with my double major. Otherwise I won’t get to take the LSATs on time in order to get into law school the fall semester after graduation.
My mind spins in a thousand directions so much that I don’t hear Mrs. Andrews, my advisor, calling my name.
“Madison- hello?”
“Sorry, I…I just can’t drop a class. That’s not an option for me.”
“I know you have a detailed plan but I told you that plan might not be feasible. How do you expect to ace all of your classes with such a hectic schedule?”
She’s right. I know she is. I just don’t want to admit it.
We’re already halfway through the first semester of my sophomore year at Sierra Cove, with midterms right around the corner, and I’m already drowning and barely passing two classes.
I just can’t keep up no matter what I do. No matter how much studying I cram in. No matter how much life I don’t give myself.
Yet here I am, buckling under the weight of it all and in complete denial.
“I know you have big plans, Madison. And that’s amazing. I want to see you accomplish everything you’ve dreamed of. But I’m here to tell you it has to be done in a realistic way that works for you. If you set yourself up for failure, then you’ll fail, no matter how hard you try. But if you set yourself up for success, then you’ll succeed my friend.”
Her words make sense even though I don’t want to accept them. Hell, I still don’t know how I’m going to tell my parents I’m barely passing two classes and have crap grades . Maybe it would be better to just adjust my schedule and get my grades up. There’s always summer classes. Or attending an extra year. Whatever I have to do.
You know Asher Russell isn’t struggling as hard.He probably has an A in all fifty classes he’s taking.
“Here, look over this schedule and tell me what you think. I wrote in some notes on how we can adjust your plan without much disruption. A few summer classes here and there and you’ll graduate on time with two degrees under your belt and on the fast track right to law school.”
I take the schedule and thank her, a heavy feeling gnawing at my gut.
What are you even doing, Mads?
Do you truly even want to be a lawyer?
I shuffle out the door, not bothering to look at the schedule and apparently where I’m going either because I crash directly into the one guy I don’t want to see.
“Whoa!” Asher says. “You good?”
Ah, the boy of few words.
How do those few words of yours always manage to claim my heart?
“Yeah, sorry.” I mumble. “Just a shit day. Typical it seems lately.”
See, problem is, no matter how few words Asher says, I easily can fill in the gaps with my rambling.
And sure enough, out comes the word vomit when the next thing he says is- “What’s going on?”
But, I twist the truth a little. Like I always do. Because Asher can’t know I struggle. No one can know. The facade of perfection is one I will not break. No matter how much it breaks me down on the inside.
Good grades, top track runner, and pre-law double major student- that’s me. Success will get me far in life. Something my parents instilled in Mason and I growing up. Can’t disappoint the folks, right?
And out of all people, Asher is thelast personI want to know the truth. Because he thinks it comes easy to me just like it does to him. I’ve always given the impression it does. And that’s the way it’ll stay.
“Oh, just schedule changes. I’m acing all of my current classes, and considering I juggle nine, I’m surprised I’m still functioning. At this point, I think I’m surviving solely on caffeine and energy drinks.”
