Like Real People Do [🗸]

20. overwork

We get our midterms back the next class. Our professor sleuths about the room, placing the packets face-first on each desk, eyes giving away nothing, refusing to let them linger on the student or the midterm.

From next to me, Esther exhales a sigh. Definitely somewhere up there. I'm hoping for at least a C+. Possibly. I mean, half of our study sessions had me zoning out and despite having gotten a full eight hours the night before the exam, I was on edge throughout. 

If there's anything I'm sure of it's that your entire mental state can screw up your results. I finally take in my midterm, flipping it over. 

B+

Now, a B+ shouldn't be anything remarkable but a C+ is a far cry from it and that was rather what I was expecting. To top it off, this is in a class with one of those professors who believe it is some sort of flex to boast about how low the class average in their class is each year. 

This is more than a pass. 

And the mistake I'd made? According to the professor's messy scrawl, he'd wanted a bit more detail in one of my explanations. But it turns out, I am not at all a fool, and despite this being lower than my high school average, I don't necessarily feel like banging my head against a table.

Now, do I think the marks he took away were a bit gratuitous? Perhaps.  Might I engage him in a negotiation regarding my grades? Also perhaps.

If my parents ask about the midterm, however, it's practically an A-. Either way, a good portion of the courses I'm taking this year are As so my parents will simply have to cope. 

Once class draws to an end, Esther and I compare results. Of course, she gets an A-. She waves the packet in the air and mimes kissing it. "This course is literally carrying my GPA."

"Bullshit," I say and she simply rolls her eyes. Out of the blue, however, she freezes and her entire expression shifts. "Oh my god, how'd it go with Elliot?"

"Watched him dance," I say and Esther nods, eyes wide as she silently urges me to continue. "Then we came back to his dorm and his roommate wasn't there."

Esther whistles. 

"Freak," I say before continuing. "We ate sushi and watched a slasher. It was fun."

"You're the freak. You expect me to believe that you two didn't at least hug."

"We might've kissed," I shrug. "Once or so."

"Ah, so you're all casual now," Esther says, echoing me in a crass tone, "we might've kissed."

"You are such an asshole," I say as Silvia pulls alongside us in the hallway. 

"Hey," Silvia says, linking her elbow with both of ours. "Esther and I are heading out to lunch. Wanna come over?"

My plan was to drop by the dance studio and show Elliot my grade but lunch is tempting, so I allow Silvia to guide the two of us to one of those all-you-can-eat buffet, explaining she got a seasonal pass from winning a journalism competition her department was hosting.