Words

Sixteen

Students fidgeted in their classrooms after school, some anxious, others excited. I, on the other hand, felt like taking a dip in quicksand. It was the long awaited report card conference, and I had a feeling it wouldn't go as well as last year. I peeked into Abigail's last class, sweat beads rolling down my neck as I scanned for her scarlet locks. Fingers sliding down the blue door frame in defeat, I sighed when I didn't see her.

It's useless. I should make my will now. Wait―I can't even write one!

"Maybe she went to the bathroom," I muttered while walking back to class, eyes glued to the floor. Other students walked past me with their parents close behind, conversing in hushed voices. My mind wandered off to Mom and Dad, thankful they took my words seriously. At least now I could rest at ease since they understood my problem.

Imagine, something I'd been worrying over for months suddenly got lifted off my shoulders. It made me let out the air I didn't know I was holding in. I almost felt... free.

Peeking into Ms. Flores' class again, I noticed students scattered around the room. They chatted while their parents waited to talk with the teacher. I scanned for my seat and headed back to sit down. Once I settled into my seat, Kyle decided to come by.

He scratched the back of his head, mumbling, "Are your parents here yet?"

Huh. This was new. Nevertheless, I smiled, answering, "No, but Mom'll come later and Dad's driving here now."

"Ain't that nice."

He took sat across from me, pointing to the red-headed man and dark skinned woman hovering over Ms. Flores' desk at that moment. "Mine are over there."

The man―his father, I assumed―glared at a pile of papers crumpled in his hand. Tests, maybe? Kyle's pretty smart, though...

"He looks a bit angry," I noted while turning back to Kyle. And he's looking straight at us.

The boy's eyebrows knitted together tighter than the stitches my sweater, clenched fists trembling in his lap. I coughed to get his attention. "Are you okay?"

He flinched when I put my hand on his shoulder, then curtly nodded. "I'm fine. It's just... Dad won't like my grades. Neither will Mom."

I shook my head. "It can't be that bad. You always answer questions well when you're called on. Plus, I'm pretty sure you did well on the last English test."

Unlike me.

A bitter smile spread on my face at the thought.

Luckily, Kyle took it as a sign of encouragement. He grabbed my hand and slid it onto his desk. "Thanks, I needed that. Listen, about that―"

"I told you, it's fine. You're making up for it now, which is more than enough," I reiterated, taking my hand away. "Don't worry about it."

"Ah... okay. Well, I'm gonna go see what my parents want. See ya." He slipped out the chair and waltzed to his parents' side.

His father waved to me before staring daggers into Kyle's head. After he talked to the woman next to him, whose face wrinkled as soon as he spoke, they left with Kyle in tow. They must be scolding him. Can't be helped, I guess.

I leaned my chin on my palm as my advisor conversed with other students' parents. Not far off, the students huddled around their tables. Even from here I could see how nervous most of them were. Fidgeting, glancing around, shaking―they exhibited anxiety similar to a juvenile waiting to receive to go on trial. My eyes scanned the room one last time before darting to where my phone rested.