Dare to Fall

Chapter XX

The thought of going to the beach again leaves me feeling strangely unsure. It's been years since I last felt the saltwater on my skin, and I can barely remember the sensation of warm sand beneath my feet. Yet the idea tugs at something deep within me, stirring up a mix of nostalgia and apprehension.

I can't help but recall countless memories—each one flooding my mind with snapshots of happier times spent with my family. I picture my dad, with his sun-kissed skin and carefree laughter, my mom with a smile so wide it seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Those moments of joy now feel distant, like fading echoes of a life that once was.

"Hey, are you okay?" Amelia's voice cuts through my reverie, and I turn to find her looking at me with concern. I nod, forcing my attention back to the chemistry lesson, but my thoughts keep drifting.

"Okay, I would like you guys to answer the seatwork on page 81 of your textbooks," the teacher announces, breaking the silence in the classroom.

Great. Just when I thought I could escape into my thoughts, reality comes crashing back. I turn to Amelia again, anxiety bubbling up inside me. "Did you understand anything from what she just discussed?"

Amelia shakes her head, a look of shared despair crossing her face. "Not a clue," she admits.

I guess I won't be the only one failing chemistry this year.

The bell finally rings, signaling the end of class, and I feel a wave of relief wash over me. I make my way to my locker, grateful that the substitute teacher didn't decide to check our work. Just one more subject to endure.

"I'll see you later at lunch," Amelia calls out as she heads in the opposite direction.

"Yeah," I reply, waving goodbye. I head toward Drama class, which I dread almost as much as chemistry. At the top of my list of hated subjects is calculus, followed closely by chemistry, with Drama a distant third. It's not that I hate acting—I just hate the idea of being judged.

Ironically, I'm often the harshest judge of others. It's a strange contradiction that gnaws at me.

As I enter the Drama classroom, a buzz of chatter fills the air. Mrs. Alfero walks in, her presence commanding immediate attention. I find my seat and settle in, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of chemistry.

"Bonjour and welcome to Drama class!" she announces, setting her things on the table. "Can anyone remind me of the summary of Romeo and Juliet from our last discussion?"

Silence envelops the room as we all glance at one another, unwilling to speak up. I sneak a peek around, hoping someone will volunteer. Mrs. Alfero scans the room, her gaze landing on me. Panic surges through me.

"Mr. Anderson?" she asks, and my heart sinks. I look around as if seeking an escape route.

"Uh, I wasn't paying attention," I mumble, diverting my eyes to the notebook in front of me, desperately pretending to read my notes.

"Do you have anything to contribute?" she presses, and I can feel my face heating up.

"Nope," I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Anyone?" she tries again, and I feel the pressure building.

"Hey," a voice whispers from behind me, breaking my concentration. I roll my eyes, already anticipating the annoyance to come.

"Can you not?" I hiss back, trying to focus on Mrs. Alfero, but the tapping on my shoulder continues.

"Psst," he whispers again, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Are you going to help me with the presentation?"