F.
I stared at my paper in disbelief as I try to absorb the grade I got in our History test.
F.
As far as I can remember, I studied well last night. I even borrowed books from our school library to make sure I have the right answers in my mind. So tell me.
HOW THE HELL DID I GET A FREAKING F IN THIS TEST?
I took out the clearbook from my bagpack. I flipped the plastic pages and saw my test scores from other subjects.
Biology: F
Psychology: F
English Literature: F
For goodness' sake, English Lit! Gods, how can I ever get to college with these kind of grades?
I can't let this pass. I don't want another failing mark. Again.
The bell rang.
"Class dismissed. See you next meeting." Our teacher said, as if anyone of us is listening.
My classmates started leaving the classroom without even minding the elderly teacher. Until I was the only one left. I approached the teacher's desk and handed her my History test paper.
"Mrs. Thompson, I think you have mislooked my score." I said with all the placidity I could muster in my voice. "Can you recheck my paper?"
Mrs. Thompson's nose slightly crinkled and her eyeglasses slid down a bit. She placed her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on the back of her hands. Then she looked at me over those thick lenses.
"Ms. Maine, do you really think that I, your teacher,"-----I haven't missed the fact that she emphasized the word 'teacher'-----"would be wrong in a way or another?"
"Um, no, Mrs. Thompson. Um, thank you. I'll go now."
"Good."
I gathered my things and hurriedly left that stupid classroom. I'm not upset because of the score anymore. I'm more upset now because of the one who gave me the score. Fine! I get it! She doesn't want to be questioned! She could have just said it to my face instead of looking at me like I'm some sort of a worm. Like hello! It's not my freaking fault I'm not good at class.
I know I did my best. The right words just won't come out of my crazy mind. Damn. Why am I not good with words? This has been the problem all the time.
I went straight to my locker and dumped my things inside. Someone please tell me, is this really a locker or a trash can?
Just as I closed my locker, someone bumped into me hard from behind, causing me to hit my head into the cold metal door of the locker. I can almost feel the lump forming in my forehead. Hey, that hurts!
I shook the tinge of pain away as I turned my head to see who the culprit is.
