Trophy Child (On Hold)

Chapter 11

The essay and matching poster board on my desk were by far the worst pieces of work I'd ever turned in. I knew it, Mrs. Daniel knew it, Every single student that passed by as we gallery walked around the classroom knew it. 

But it was a wonder I'd turned in anything at all. 

It was an important project. Mrs. Daniels has stressed it enough for me to understand that much. The motivation just hadn't been there. The effort I'd spent just trying to force myself to start was more than I'd put into actually completing the project, by a long shot.

I'd tried. 

Or maybe I hadn't. Maybe my mom was right and that had been the problem all along, that I just didn't try as much as I was supposed to. I certainly hadn't been lately.

I guess it was a good thing though, or at least, it was to my classmates. I don't think they knew I could hear them when they whispered, relieved, that at least their assignments had turned out better than mine. At least they weren't the worst. 

Mrs. Daniel was making her way around the room too, but more slowly than the students. She had a clipboard in her hand, so I assumed she was grading the posters now and was planning to go over the essays later in the week. When she reached my desk, she sighed. 

"Uh-oh," Eric said," someone's in trouble, and it's not me this time!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up."

"You love me."

"You infuriate me."

"Love."

"Eric. Get walking. Gallery walks are supposed to be silent. You're on thin enough ice as it is," Mrs. Daniel snapped. 

Eric groaned and apologized before he whispered to me,"she has it out for me, I swear."

Which was probably true. But Mrs. Daniel, as I say all the time, had it out for everyone. Why they'd ever given that old, angry woman a teaching degree, I'd never understand. 

"And Casey... Come with me for a second," she said, tone exasperated as she gestured for me to step outside with her.

"What's up?" I asked once the door had closed behind us. 

"What was that?"

"A gallery walk? It was your activity, not mine."

Her gaze hardened into a glare, so I figured that that had probably been the wrong thing to say. 

"You know that isn't what I meant. If you're not going to listen, then I'll give you a detention and we can talk there."

"No thanks," I said," you can continue."

"I want you to be honest with me. When did you start on your project?"

I thought about lying, but we'd both know the truth.

Instead, I said," I don't know. Last night."

"And how much time would you say you spent on it in total?"

"I don't know," I repeated. "Not a lot."

"Obviously. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you work on your project, Casey?"

"I guess I thought it wasn't going to take very long. I just put it off, I don't know," I said. "I guess I just screwed up."

"That isn't an excuse. If something happened, I can give you an extension, but I do not tolerate laziness and students who are just unwilling to put in the necessary work."