Book IV of the UNC Series
Carter Blake has a bone-deep hatred for the world-and especially for the people in it. All he wants is to keep his head down, focus on school and basketball, and avoid the mess of human connection. After enduring years of...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I never wanted to be the best at anything I did. I never wanted to be the best artist, graduate with the top grades in school, or make the Honour Roll. I just wanted to get by and pass my classes enough to make it into the next one.
I never had ambition, drive, or something to push me to excel.
But that was until I dreamt of opening a tattoo studio for my mom. I knew I didn't need to ace all my classes to do that, but I still wanted to do well. I wanted to have good business sense, be good at something, and live out the promise I made to both the important women in my life.
I remember walking by that foreclosed lot, and suddenly, the place came together. I knew then that this was what I wanted to do. I didn't want to walk around aimlessly anymore. I didn't want to have no drive and squander the only life I had. I may have wanted to die with my best friend four years ago, but I'm a new person now. Living for her.
But as I gaze down at my final for my microeconomics, I wonder where I went wrong. People often confuse the notion of doing well with being the best. And therein lies the struggle. If we weren't competing with each other to be better than one another, we wouldn't be as cruel and vindictive as we are now.
But I don't want to compete with anyone; I don't want to be the best. I just want to do well for myself, to be better than who I was.
I barely passed the class. I know I've had a tough semester with being kicked out, moving out, and finally ditching and blocking Spencer's number. But I channelled all that free time into work and school. Sure, I still had a few panic attacks, but school was the one thing I didn't have to worry about anymore.
Though I didn't fail the class, nor do I have to retake it—since I don't actually need to do well in the class to open a business or a tattoo shop—disappointment wracks my mind. This isn't who I am anymore.
I shake my head as flurries of snow flutter above my head. I tuck the crumbled pages into my side bag, slightly aggravated that the final exam was an essay style rather than multiple-choice, which was what was promised at the beginning. Who fucking needs microeconomics anyway? It's a useless class.
Tucking a few strands of my hair behind my frozen ears, I tug on the sleeves of my hoodie over my fingers to preserve heat and stride down the pavement covered in snow.
I can't help but glance over my shoulder and check dark corners. Since last night, I have hesitated to step outside, scared that someone's trailing me. I don't plan to stay too late at the shop this week, leaving as soon as Keyan closes down, heeding his word when he says to leave it to the next day.
I've always feared the dark, primarily because of the unknown that could potentially be lurking out there. Living on the streets with Olive left a lasting impression that has been hard to shake. But now that I know someone is creeping in the dark corners, ready to hound and scare me, the unknown—while still remaining mysterious—has seemed to reveal a bit of itself.
