Back To You;

CHAPTER 9

Life has a funny way of kicking you when you’re already down. Just when I thought things were finally settling—Lauren and I were on speaking terms again, Dave had gracefully taken my rejection (well, mostly)—the universe decided to pull the rug out from under me.

It started innocently enough. Exam results were posted on the school portal, and everyone around me was buzzing with anticipation. I logged in, expecting my usual straight A’s. After all, I had spent countless late nights studying, sacrificing sleep and social media, and even turning down John’s invite to a debate viewing party.

But then I saw it.

Calculus: 89.9% - B

I stared at the screen, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach. This had to be a mistake, right? Maybe a glitch in the system? I refreshed the page three times, but the grade didn’t change.

A B.

For the first time in my academic life, I wasn’t perfect.

The breakdown started small—a quiet disbelief, a shaky inhale. But by the time I reached the organization room after lunch, my composure was hanging by a thread.

John was the first to notice. “Marie, are you okay? You look like the world was dropped onto you”

“Worse,” I muttered, flopping into a chair.

John squinted at me, then gasped. “Don’t tell me you bombed the exam. Did you...get a C?”

Mae, who was sitting across from him, smacked his arm. “John, don’t be so dramatic. Marie would never get a C.” She paused, then turned to me with wide eyes. “Wait, you didn’t get a C... did you?”

I shook my head, and they both visibly relaxed. “No. I got... a B.”

John’s jaw dropped. Mae audibly gasped. For a second, you’d think I’d just announced the end of the world.

“A B?” John whisper-shouted, leaning forward like I’d confessed to a crime.

“Marie, that’s practically treason in your book!” Mae added, her tone half-serious.

“I know,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I’m a failure. My parents are going to be so disappointed. I’ll never get into my dream university. This is it. My life is over.”

Mae rolled her eyes. “Marie, it’s one B. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah,” John added, though his expression was still serious. “But it’s kind of like seeing Superman trip over his cape. Weirdly unsettling.”

I shot him a glare, but it lacked any real heat.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. I couldn’t focus in class, couldn’t eat during the breaks, and by the time I got home, the weight of it all had settled firmly on my chest.

I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as tears threatened to spill. I tried to tell myself that Mae was right—that one grade didn’t define me. But the pressure I’d put on myself for years, the expectations I carried like a badge of honor, wouldn’t let me accept it.

The tears came fast and unrelenting, and before I knew it, I was full-on sobbing into my pillow.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

Hey, you okay? You’ve been quiet today.

I sniffled, wiping my face as I stared at the message. Lauren and I had grown closer again over the past week, but I hadn’t told him about my B. Part of me didn’t want him to know—didn’t want him to see me as anything less than perfect.

But the weight of it all was too much to carry alone.

No. I’m really not.
I replied.

His reply was immediate.

Want to talk? Or do you need space?

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Can you come over?

Fifteen minutes later, Lauren was sitting on the floor of my room, cross-legged and looking up at me with concern.

“So,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “What’s going on?”

I hesitated, then blurted it out: “I got a B.”

Lauren blinked. “A B? That’s it?”

“That’s it?!” I repeated, my voice pitching higher. “Lauren, you don’t understand. I’ve never gotten anything lower than an A. Ever. My parents expect me to be perfect. I expect me to be perfect.”

“Marie,” he said softly, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re human. Humans aren’t perfect.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to stop me.

“Look, I know how much you push yourself. And yeah, being dedicated is great, but... You don’t have to kill yourself trying to live up to some impossible standard. A B doesn’t mean you’re a failure. It just means you’re normal.”

I stared at him, his words sinking in slowly. “But what if—”

“What if nothing,” he interrupted, his gaze steady. “You’re one of the smartest, hardest-working people I know. A grade doesn’t change that. You’re still you, Marie. And that’s more than enough.”

His words hit me like a wave, and before I knew it, I was crying again. But this time, it wasn’t the overwhelming kind of crying. It was more like a release, like a pressure valve finally being opened.

Lauren didn’t say anything else. He just reached over and gently held my hand, his thumb brushing lightly against my knuckles.

For the first time that day, I felt like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

---