Zoey's First Crush

Chapter One: The Bad Grade

Zoey Myers stood outside her small white house on V Street, one hand on the doorknob, the other on her third quarter progress report. She took a deep breath. She had to face this sooner or later, might as well get it over with. She opened the door and stepped inside, wanting to just do it before she lost her nerve. She envisioned the disappointed faces of her mother and stepfather. She had almost all A's, except in one class. She was failing math. She heard her mother in the kitchen and decided it was best to share it with her first, as her stepfather would be less forgiving.

"Mother, I'm home. "

"I'm in the kitchen, sweetie. "

She took another deep breath and strode towards the kitchen, progress report in hand, her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair flowing behind her. She decided it would be best not to open with her progress report. Instead she asked her mother about her day and listened as she complained about the long lines at the grocery store and the bad traffic jam she'd been stuck in.

"How was your day sweetie? Anything new or exciting?"

"Um, not really..." Now was her chance. "I got my progress report today..."

"Oh really? That's great sweetie! Let me see it, " her mother replied, smiling and holding out her hand expectantly.

Zoey gulped and hesitantly handed the paper to her mother and watched as pride faded to disappointment as her eyes reached the bad grade.

"You're... failing math?" her mother asked, non-belief etching in her voice. "But... how? You're so smart. And all your other classes are going perfectly well..."

Zoey averted her eyes and looked instead at the floor, saying nothing.

"Well I suppose this means you'll need a math tutor. I'll start asking around," her mother sighed, dropping the progress report on the table.

"Umm, thanks mom," Zoey said softly. "Oh and I need you to sign it so I can bring it back to my teacher..."

Her mother sighed. "Alright. It'll be signed and waiting for you in the morning. Now go do your homework before your father gets home."

Zoey turned on her heel and left the room. Henry was not her father, no matter how much her mom referred to him as such. She opened the door to her room and plopped down on the bed. She started getting books out of her backpack and laying them beside her on the bed.

Later, she heard Henry arrive. She got quiet so as to hear him talking to her mom. Any minute now she would tell him, and he would come charging up the stairs to yell at her. But it never happened. Her mom didn't tell him and he didn't come upstairs. This confused her though she tried not to dwell on it. It was only a matter of time.