The wishing notebook (1st draft)

Chapter 2

Fixing my eyes on the ground, I refused to look at Joseph. His sudden presence made me recount the dreadful day when I failed my Math test in Primary 3.

"I can't believe you failed Math again! Why can't you buck up?" I felt the jarring impact of a book being slammed into my hands and saw Joseph's name on the cover. Mom flipped the cover open and turned a few pages before she stopped at a certain section.

"Look!' She cried, jabbing her finger at Joseph's grades. "Joseph got an A for all of his subjects when he was your age! What's wrong with you?"

No way! My mind was in denial when I saw that each subject was aligned perfectly with the grade 'A'. Joseph had achieved what many students could only envision in their dreams. The straight As that were arranged in a solid, neat row mocked me as I looked at my math paper, which had a huge D scrawled onto it, along with the teacher's comments that were scribbled in bright red ink.

You need to put in more effort to improve.

How? I wanted to ask. How do I even do that when I'm lost? I tried to tell Mom that I had been spending the past few weeks practicing Math questions but I struggled to answer her next question.

"If you've been practicing, why did you fail?"

What was I supposed to tell her? That I didn't anticipate the questions to be difficult? That I expected them to be similar to the ones in my assessment book? Yeah, right. She'd only think that I was making excuses.

I muttered softly, "I...I don't know."

Scowling at my downcast expression, Mom sighed. "Isla, you have the potential to do well. Just ask your brother for help, he was always the top student at school." Mom turned on her heels and walked to the kitchen, averting her gaze from her pathetic excuse for a daughter.

I felt like a tree that was glued to the ground by its roots. Staring at Mom's retreating figure as she slammed the door shut, I finally allowed my tears to fall as I succumbed to despair.

"Isla?" Joseph said. "Is everything OK?"

"Yeah." I mumbled, paying closer attention to the intricate patterns on the floor.

Before Joseph could say anything, Mom suddenly appeared in the living room. Seeing him in a smart business suit with a briefcase in his hand, her frown was instantly replaced with a beaming smile that lifted the hooks of her mouth, making her much younger than she usually looked. Mom ran towards Joseph and engulfed him in a tight embrace, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Welcome back, Joseph. You must be feeling very tired."

My body trembled with envy. Why does Joseph receive better treatment from Mom? Just because he gets better grades and has a wonderful career? I wanted to pull Joseph away from Mom and push myself in front of her.

Look at me! I envisioned myself screaming my lungs out. Why can't you treat me the same way you treat Joseph?  Joseph's eyes scanned my livid expression as I clenched my fists.

"Mom, why don't we have dinner first?"

"Oh, right." Mum immediately released Joseph from her embrace, her cheeks red as a tomato. "Isla! Bring your brother's briefcase and coat to his room!"

"Oh, right," I mumbled, dragging my feet on the ground. I grabbed Joseph's briefcase and helped him remove his jacket, despite his protests. Trudging up the stairs to Joseph's bedroom, I stopped myself from throwing his briefcase on the ground, knowing that Mom would yell at me for making a scene. Instead, I placed it gently on his bed.