"I'm all set," I say as I turn in my final make-up test, feeling confident that I did well. It's my free period and I just took a unit test that I've spent countless hours studying for.
"I'll grade it right now," my chemistry teacher says. "It should only take a few minutes," he adds.
He puts on his reading glasses and picks up the red pen. I can't watch. The result of this test determines if I can play in tomorrow's game. If I get an 86 or higher, that bumps my overall grade to passing. Anything below an 86, even just one point, I won't be able to play and will have to do more work to bring my grade up.
I go back to the desk where I took the test and wait impatiently, watching as he checks my answers against the answer key. I can't stop bouncing my leg under my desk in anticipation. I feel like I have holes all through my body and the wind is whooshing through, causing me to physically feel immense anxiety and lightness.
He puts the pen down and takes off his reading glasses.
"How do you think you did," he asks, looking up from my graded test. It lays flat on the desk in front of him. I can see the red ink at the top of the front page but I can't make out the number.
"I think I did enough to get an 86, but I could be wrong," I say.
"Congratulations," he says and holds up the test as I get up to go see it. "You got a 94."
"Are you serious?!" I exclaim with excitement as he hands me the test. I can't believe it. Well I can. But also, it just feels so good to have basketball back again.
"Totally," he responds.
"I can play tomorrow!" I say.
"That's great, but will you keep this up?" he asks.
"Yes I have to," I say.
"If you need extra help you know where to find me," he tells me.
"Yes I do, thanks," I say and put my backpack over my shoulders. I do a little hop so I can free my long ponytail from the tug of the straps of my bag.
"Believe it or not teachers want their students to succeed, and we enjoy helping you and are just as excited as you are when you do well," he says.
"I know thanks for your help," I say.
"Of course. I will submit your new grade to guidance so they can give you your new report card. Your new grade is still only a 64, Luna, but you are very smart, this 94 proves it," he says.
"Thanks," I respond.
"Please keep up this good work, there are so many resources available to you. And if you need to talk or anything I will do my best to listen," he says.
"Thanks so much. I have other homework to do so I'm gonna go to the library until the end of the period," I say.
"You're welcome," he says as I head out the door feeling so happy that I can finally play again. I've only missed one game and two practices but for me that was torture.
Instead of going to the library I decide to go to the guidance office to hopefully fast track getting my new official grades printed. My guidance counselor congratulates me on a nice job getting back on track. She changes my grades in the system from 'INC' to my new passing scores and prints out a physical copy.
I'm so relieved that all that hard work is finally over. All the cramming, the ten hour nights of nonstop homework, and the make up tests have left me mentally exhausted.
The next thing I want to do, before my free period is over, is go tell Briggs I can officially play now.
"I can play tomorrow," I chirp out in excitement as I walk through the door to his office.
YOU ARE READING
Water on the Moon
General Fiction***TRIGGER WARNING*** Seventeen year old Luna Henderson has just begun her senior year of high school, but is she ready? Last year, the star athlete and former straight A student found herself quickly declining into a deep depression, consumed with...
