The Gradebook

Chapter 1: The Spark

CHAPTER 1: THE SPARK

Mia POV

 I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My lavender strappy heels were like soul mates with my denim destroyed capris and purple empire waist blouse. I heaved a large sigh. Life can be so boring in the morning.

 As I was gently sauntering down the stairs, I heard my Mom, Raquelle, squeal excitedly. “Oh, honey! It’s the first day of school...”

 “Again, for the thirteenth time in my life,” I replied, finally reaching her in the kitchen. She was leaning against the polished marble island, her natural jet-black hair piled up nicely. She was young when she had me, which explains why she still looks like a young adult. She was wearing an expensive designer blazer and a matching navy blue pencil skirt, white thread laced through the material. I must admit, she was quite the fashionista.

 “Where’s Dad?” I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

 “He was called back to the hospital to work a couple hours extra. It was an emergency,” my Mom explained with a wave of her hand.

 My dad worked at the Cedarfield Hospital as an ER surgeon. He helped fix the broken bodies of people in car accidents, crashes, and other incidents. Sure, it took lots of brains to be one, but it wasn’t something that I was proud of. Everyone’s parents at my school had Hollywood low-key starlets and wacky TV show hosts for parents. I had a smart surgeon and brainy businesswoman for parents. You probably didn’t know my dad unless you were in post-traumatic stress. It was so not cool. 

 Adi sprinted down the stairs and plopped down in a plush seat next to me. He leaned in front of me, snatched the apple juice, sending his wavy chestnut hair cascading into my mouth, and poured it into my glass cup. I wiped my face. For a second I thought my immature twelve-year-old brother was finally being a gentleman, but before I could process this thought, he was already gulping it down, a childish smirk on his face.

 I glared devilishly at him. “Get your own cup. Apple juice is my favourite, not yours.”

 He laughed. “If you promise to share your faves, I’ll get you a ticket to Rave,” he sang.

 “NO WAY!”  I yelped, and Mom sent me a hard stare. I lowered my voice. “I mean, would you really? You’re the best little brother ever!” I squealed, while Adi reached with his arms to cover his ears.

 Then the problems in this situation came to light. “Wait, but how? They’re sold out and their concert is in only three days,” I pointed out. “And you have no money.”

 “Doesn’t mean Dad doesn’t,” he winked. “Plus, I have my connections.”

 “Oh, you mean that Tyler dude in grade eight? Isn’t he our next-door neighbour?” I mumbled. I was completely oblivious to the uncool people in my town. Everyone knew Tyler Cooke was some scrawny nerd that his mother underfed.

 However, my heart was doing one hundred meter dashes repeatedly. Rave was the best alternative and post-hardcore band that has ever roamed the boring surface of Earth. My love for hardcore rock balanced out my addiction to girly things. I really didn’t know why I loved that genre.

 “Not just any Tyler dude!” my brother protested, snapping me out of my thoughts. “He’s the Tyler dude! He’s got everything. Only one exception.”

 I scoffed loudly and turned to him in my seat. “What do you want?”

 “I want you to drive me and my friends anywhere we want for the next three weeks.”