Ephemeral

Chapter 1

Jack

I walked into my chemistry class, weighed down by distraction. I dragged myself to the back and slumped into my seat, hoping to go unnoticed. The classroom felt too bright, and the noise of other students seemed far away.

I tried to focus on Mr. Velarde at the front, but he seemed distant. I stared at my notebook, unable to write anything. My mind was tangled, and I couldn’t shake off the cloud of frustration that followed me.

“Alright, class,” Mr. Velarde said, snapping me back to attention. “Today, we’re working on balancing chemical equations. This one’s a bit tricky, so pay attention.”

I forced myself to look at the board, but the equation was a jumbled mess of variables. Mr. Velarde explained balancing coefficients and reacting substances, but his words felt like they were slipping past me.

“Jack,” Mr. Velarde’s voice cut through my fog. “Why don’t you come up and solve this equation?”

My stomach dropped. I looked at the board again, panic rising. I stood up, feeling like I was wading through thick mud. As I approached the board, the symbols seemed to taunt me.

I picked up the marker but hesitated. “I... I don’t know where to start,” I said, my voice trembling.

Mr. Velarde walked over, his frustration clear. “Jack, we’ve been covering this for a while. You need to stay focused if you want to get it.”

“I’ve been trying,” I said, my voice shaky. “But I’m having a hard time today. I got a bad grade on my history test, and I can’t seem to get anything right.”

Mr. Velarde’s face grew stern. “I understand you’re having a tough time, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore class. You need to make an effort. Everyone else is keeping up because they’re paying attention.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a mix of shame and determination. “I’ll try harder,” I said quietly, though I wasn’t sure how.

Mr. Velarde nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good. Let’s work through this together. Step by step.”

As Mr. Velarde guided me through the equation, I struggled to keep up but made some progress with his help. By the time I returned to my seat, the sting of his earlier words was still fresh, but I felt a glimmer of resolve. I knew I had to work harder and manage my frustrations better. As the class continued, I focused on absorbing what I could, hoping that with time, I could start turning things around.

***

I stared at my history test score, the big red “F” at the top feeling like a punch to the gut. I tossed the paper onto my desk and slumped into my chair, defeated and frustrated. The red ink seemed to mock me, a stark reminder of my struggle and failure.

My room was a mess of textbooks and notes scattered everywhere. I had tried everything—hours spent poring over dates, events, and names, and countless revisions of my study guides. But despite my efforts, it felt like I was missing something crucial. The material never seemed to stick, and every attempt to grasp it only made me feel more lost.

The walls of my room, once a place of focus, now seemed to close in on me. My desk was cluttered with crumpled papers and half-empty coffee cups, evidence of late-night study sessions that hadn’t paid off. I felt like I was running in circles, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t break free from the cycle of frustration and confusion.

My mom walked into the room, her face showing concern. "How did the test go, Jack?"

I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. "Not good. I’m thinking of dropping the class."

She sat down next to me, her voice firm but gentle. "Jack, we need to talk. Your dad and I are really worried about your grades. We’ve seen you struggling, and it’s affecting everything."

"I know, Mom," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’ve been working hard, but it’s not getting better. I’m thinking of quitting the class."

"Jack, you can’t just give up," she said, her tone more insistent now. "We’ve talked about this before. You need to find a way to improve. Your dad and I will be stricter about your study habits. We want to help you succeed, but you need to put in the effort."

I nodded, even though she wasn’t expecting an answer. "Okay, Mom. I’ll try harder."

“We’ve found a tutor who might be able to help,” Mrs. Delgado said, handing me a flyer. “Her name is Mrs. Keik Delgado. She’s worked with students before, and we’ve heard good things about her. I’ll give you her contact info.”

I glanced at the flyer on my desk. It had Mrs. Delgado’s name and a number for contact, along with a brief note about her experience helping students improve their grades. A small spark of hope flickered inside me. Maybe she could help me get back on track.

“Do you really think she can help?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Mrs. Delgado nodded, her expression reassuring. “Absolutely. She’s known for being patient and clear when explaining things. Sometimes, a fresh perspective can make all the difference.”

“I’ve been struggling a lot lately,” I admitted, staring at the flyer.

“That’s why it’s important to reach out,” Mrs. Delgado said gently. “Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Everyone needs it at some point.”

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone, trying to shake off my nerves. “I’ll give her a call now,” I said, though I felt a little unsure.

Mrs. Delgado smiled. “Good. Just remember, it’s a step toward improving. And I’m here to support you too.”

I dialed the number on the flyer, feeling a mix of anxiety and cautious optimism. After a few rings, a warm, welcoming voice answered.

“Hello, Mrs. Delgado? This is Jack. I’m a student at the high school, and I heard you might be able to help with some tutoring.”

“Hello, Jack,” Mrs. Delgado’s voice was calm and encouraging. “I’d be happy to help. What subjects are you struggling with?”

“Mainly chemistry and history,” I said, my voice a little shaky. “I’ve been having a hard time understanding some of the material.”

“I see,” Mrs. Delgado replied thoughtfully. “We can work on those subjects. Let’s schedule a time to meet and discuss what you need help with.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” Mrs. Delgado said warmly. “I’ll send you some information about our first session. Looking forward to working with you, Jack.”

After hanging up, I looked at the flyer again. This small step felt like a significant move towards making things better. I hoped that with Mrs. Delgado’s help, I could finally start making sense of the material and turn my grades around.