Eyes Wide Open

four

The next day at school, I got back my grade from my AP Chemistry test: a B minus.

To normal people with normal parents, that would probably be fine. But I wasn't a normal girl with normal parents. A B- was basically an F. I had never received that low of a grade on anything before. A Stanford-bound student should not be receiving anything other than an A.

I thought maybe I'd feel bad about it, that I'd regret not studying, but to my surprise and my parents' horror, I didn't give a single fuck.

"What's going on with you?" my mom asked in her I'm-not-mad-just-disappointed voice. "Since when have you stopped caring about your grades?"

"Since I realized that it literally doesn't matter," I replied casually. "Since I realized that no matter how hard I work, no matter how good of a person I am, the universe just doesn't give out favors."

My dad did not react as calmly. He put on his I'm-mad-and-disappointed voice as he scolded me. "If you think we're going to just let you slack off, you have another thing coming! Slackers don't get into Stanford. They don't get good jobs. We've worked hard to give you everything you could ever ask for! This is how you repay us? By shirking your responsibilities?"

"I didn't ask to be born!" I shot back. "I didn't ask for any of this! I don't even know if I want to go to college anymore."

Saying that was a mistake, because my dad's face got even redder than it was before. "Until you start taking things seriously, you're grounded! If I have to take that damn phone away, I will. Go to your room!"

I was grateful he told me to go to my room, since that was what I'd wanted to do anyway. It was strange being so shameless around my parents. But something in me had broken, the part that made me care so much about my life and my future. I had never felt so unburdened.

I'd rescheduled our team's debate practice for Friday after school. My parents allowed me to be ungrounded for school-related activities. Since they didn't know how long practice would take, I planned to have a super casual, not at all planned run-in with Dash.

This practice, I knew, wouldn't take very long at all.

I had been trying to low-key figure out Dash's class schedule, but it was difficult because it seemed he didn't spend a whole lot of time actually going to class. On Thursday, he wasn't in school at all as far as I could tell. We did attend a very large school, so it was possible I just missed him.

I did learn he had woodshop sixth period. This was because on Wednesday, I left class to go to the bathroom. As I walked down the hallway, I saw Dash leaving the woodshop with a towel wrapped around his hand, which seemed to be bleeding profusely.

He noticed me watching him and turned to say, "It's fake." As he passed me, he swiveled so that he was walking backwards and pulled the towel from his hand, holding his unharmed hand in the air.

Then, Dash winked at me as he walked out the side exit towards the parking lot.

I hadn't even said a word during the exchange. I just stared, bewildered, and then I started laughing.

I had AP English during sixth period, which was basically my blow-off class. On Friday, I decided to skip it and find Dash.

When the bell rang, I made my way to the side exit near the woodshop, my palms sweaty. I leaned against the wall, trying to look casual, but my mind was racing with what I'd say if he showed up.

Minutes felt like hours. Just as I was starting to think this was a terrible idea, I heard footsteps. Dash appeared, strolling casually as if he had all the time in the world. He spotted me and raised an eyebrow.