Ephemeral

Chapter 2

Nalina

It was a sunny afternoon in middle school, and we were in the science lab for our weekly experiment. The room buzzed with the chatter of students and the clinking of glassware. Posters of the periodic table and various scientific diagrams adorned the walls, and the faint smell of chemicals hung in the air. I ended up being partners with Jack. He was quiet as usual, focusing intently on the instructions our teacher had given. We had to solve a problem involving chemical reactions and then analyze our results.

"Okay, Jack, let's start by mixing these two chemicals," I said, handing him a beaker. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the lab benches.

He nodded, but his hands shook slightly as he measured the liquids. I noticed he was struggling to understand the steps. His brow furrowed in concentration, and he kept glancing at the paper, trying to make sense of it all. I could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Do you want me to handle the measurements?" I offered gently, not wanting to embarrass him. I remembered the times I struggled in math and how a kind word from a friend made all the difference.

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His usual confidence seemed to vanish in the face of the complex instructions.

As I took over the measurements, I explained each step to him, hoping to make it clearer. "First, we measure 50 milliliters of this solution," I said, demonstrating. Jack listened, but I could see the frustration in his eyes. When it came time to write down our analysis, he stared at the paper, tapping his pen nervously.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sensing his unease.

"I just don't get it, Nalina. I never seem to understand these things," he admitted, looking defeated. His voice cracked slightly, and I could tell how much this was bothering him.

"Hey, it's alright," I reassured him. "Science can be tough. Maybe we just need to try a different method." I tried to keep my tone light, hoping to ease his anxiety.

Jack sighed. "I don’t know. I’ve never been good at this." His shoulders slumped, and he looked away, avoiding eye contact.

"Everyone has things they struggle with," I said. "You just need someone to help you find a way that makes sense. Remember when I struggled with Math and you helped me? It's just like that."

Jack nodded slowly, thinking it over. "Maybe you’re right," he said, his voice gaining a bit of strength. I could see a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

As we worked through the problem, Jack’s confidence started to grow. His tension eased, and he began to tackle the questions with more determination. I showed him how to break down the steps into smaller, manageable parts, and he began to see the patterns. It wasn’t an instant fix, but it was a start. I felt relieved knowing we were making progress and hoped that with continued support, Jack would start to believe in himself. The bell rang, signaling the end of the period, and I felt a sense of accomplishment.

As we packed up our things, I glanced at Jack and saw a small smile on his face. "Thanks, Nalina. I think I’m starting to get it," he said.

"No problem, Jack. Anytime," I replied, feeling a warmth in my chest. Helping him had made me realize the importance of patience and understanding. We walked out of the lab together, the sun still shining brightly outside, promising a better day ahead.

**

The school bell rings, signaling the start of the first period. I walk through the bustling corridors, heading to my locker. The noise of students chatting and shuffling around fills the air. I feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety as I navigate the crowded halls.

As I pass by the teachers' lounge, a conversation catches my ear. One of the teachers is talking to Mr. Perez about Kevin.

“If Kevin needs to fail, then we have to fail him,” one of the teachers says firmly.

I pause, listening closely. Kevin is in my class, and I know he’s struggled a lot this semester. He’s been trying so hard, staying late after school, and asking questions, but it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. The thought of him failing makes my stomach churn with worry. It doesn’t seem fair that someone who’s put in so much effort might not get the help they need.

Feeling a surge of concern, I rush home, my mind racing with thoughts of Kevin. When I walk through the door, the comforting aroma of onions and garlic fills the kitchen, and I see Mom preparing dinner. The sight of her calmly chopping vegetables reminds me of how supportive she’s always been.

“Mom, can we talk?” I ask, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Of course, Nalina. What’s on your mind?” she responds, looking up from her cutting board with a warm smile.

“I overheard one of my teachers talking to Mr. Perez about Kevin. They said if he needs to fail, then they have to fail him,” I explain, my voice tinged with concern. “Kevin’s been having a really hard time. I’ve seen how hard he’s tried, and it doesn’t seem fair. Maybe he needs some extra help, like Jack did back in middle school.”

Mom listens thoughtfully, pausing her chopping. “It sounds like Kevin could benefit from some one-on-one support. Sometimes, students need a bit more individualized attention to catch up. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to help him.”

I nod, relieved that Mom is willing to step in. She’s always been great at helping students find their footing, whether through tutoring or just offering encouragement. I’m hopeful that with her support, Kevin might turn things around.

As I head up to my room to finish my homework, I reflect on how much a little bit of support can change someone's life. I remember how much it meant to Jack when I helped him in middle school. I hope that by speaking up, Kevin will get the chance he deserves to succeed.