Perfect (Book 1)

Break

A/N: We're coming to the end of this journey. Mainly because all of the ideas I had for this story are done now, except for these last two chapters. This is definitely not a fun, happy chapter, so prepare. I'll post the finale tomorrow. It's already finished it, and it's just cheesy Scomiche fluff. *spoiler alert* because it was totally not bound to happen or anything. Prepare to be annoyed with Mitch for a bit. Also, I wrote this at 1am so even though I edited it, it's probably not that edited tbh. So, here we go.

Chapter 18

I spoke to all of my others teachers about extra credit, well, except for singing, because I actually had an A in that class. They weren't quite as sympathetic as Mr. Evans, which was well deserved on my part, but I still got a couple assignments.

Once 6th hour came around, I made sure to sit as close to Scott as physically possible because I knew it would be awhile before I'd be able to snuggle with him again.

I rested my head on his shoulder as we practiced for our next 'show and tell' day later in the week.

"You'll get your grades up and you'll be un-grounded in no time," Scott coaxed as he leaned his head against mine.

I sighed, "Dad looked so disappointed," I informed him sadly.

He sighed, "It's just weird for everyone to see you acting so different; that's why your punishment was so drastic. They're just not used to it," he explained.

I didn't reply. All I could think about how things would be if I had never given up my schedule in the first place.

...

By Tuesday, it all made sense. The only reason my life had spiraled out of control was because I didn't have a schedule. A schedule meant structure.

I just never balanced my schedule correctly.

So I made a new one. I allotted time for homework, time for Djoo, and then implied time for Scott whenever my grounding was lifted.

I can't believe I didn't see it before.

I'd spent the last 3 weeks thinking my schedule was what made me the way I was, but it wasn't, it was the way I managed the schedule.

Better schedule meant better life.

At least that's how I saw it. On Wednesday morning I explained my epiphany to Scott and he looked at me as if I was stupid.

"I thought we've established that your schedule is what was holding you back in the first place. Why would you go back to it?" He inquired.

"I didn't go back to my old schedule, I just modified it so I have an equal amount of time for school, and for you. It's perfect. My grades will go up, and we'll still be able to hang out. It wasn't my schedule that was holding me back, it was my lack of balance for happiness and responsibility," I explained.

"The only difference between your old schedule and your new one is that I'm in it. Is there time on your schedule for bad days? Or inconvenient situations?" He interrogated.

I rolled my eyes, "You don't get it. If I follow my schedule then bad days and inconveniences won't occur. That's the beauty of having a schedule," I informed him.

"Do you not remember that day in detention when I explained to you that you can't be happy all of time?" He inquired worriedly.

"Why not though? Being happy is great," I pointed out.

"If you're happy all of the time and you have no exposure to bad things, then small inconveniences are gonna hurt a lot more. That's why you started crying when you got a detention. And don't say a schedule will prevent bad things, because you had a schedule when you got a detention," he reminded me.