Homework Hell

Chapter 3: The Home Front

At the risk of his game console, Conroy only kept his smile until Sam was out of view. He shoved his empty soda bottle into the nearest trashcan and trudged down to his street. "She would only understand if she was in my shoes," he thought as he walked up his driveway. Conroy fished his keys out of his bag and opened his door.

The silence was suffocating as he walked in and set down his bag. His house felt dark and lifeless even with the cheerfully painted walls and decorations. Looking around to make sure he is unseen, Conroy grabs his books and made a dash for the stairs. He did not want to deal with his father today. He did not want to have an argument. He did not want a reminder of how "He's a failure" and "Your brother would have gotten an A". He just wanted to escape to his room. But that never happens.

"Conroy acknowledge yourself when you are home!" a commanding voice barked from the kitchen to the right. Conroy stifled a groan and stepped into the kitchen. His father was there waiting and reading the newspaper as his older brother, Darrell, made dinner. Cornel Flint Samson was a strict, boulder of a man with his salt and pepper hair and immovable attitude, who, true to his namesake, was prone to sparking his own fiery temper. The only traits Conroy and his father shared was their stormy eyes and permanent scowl. Darrell, on the other hand, was the oddball of the family. Darrell Samson, a senior, a captain of several sport teams, and a straight A honor student, was the ray of sunshine in the household of storms, his charming smile and crystal blue eyes often contrasting his family's dirty looks, like a bright may day and dreary April showers.

"I'm home," Conroy said sitting down at the table.

"Welcome home! Perfect timing, I just finished dinner," Darrell exclaimed while serving food.

"You're late. Pick up the walking pace tomorrow." Their father said barely glancing from his paper.

Darrell forces out a convincing laugh. "We were just worried, that's all. So how was your day? Roy? Dad?"

The father and son pair both muttered out a "fine" as they started to eat. The tone of the room was so thick Conroy could have cut it with his steak knife. After a long pause, Darrell tried again.

"Did you get your Trig test back from yesterday Roy? I know Ms. DeVille is a quick grader."

"Yes, how was that test?" Colonel Samson asked in a tone that threw up all the red flags to Conroy. Conroy had to act quick equipping all his skills of charm and persuasion to change the subject.

"SO, Darrell how was... how was gym!! Gym Class for you? Today?" Conroy squeaked out with an obvious fake smile.

Unmoved by his performance, his father groaned, "What did you get on the damn test Conroy."

"A seventy-five," Conroy said through a gritted teeth smile as Darrell prepared to put down a fight.

There was a small bit of silence, a calm before the storm, before Cornel Samson roared, "A SEVENTY-FIVE! THATS A FAILING GRADE!!"

"It is not!!" Conroy yelled back mirroring the storm gathering in his father's eyes. "I was one point off a passing grade!!" Their arguments were like tornados, quickly passing but destructive, with Conroy's lighting sharp jabs and Coronel Samson's crashing thunder of a voice.

"I don't care what you almost got! You failed a test, Conroy! A test!!"

"It will be curved!! Everyone failed it!! I have the class average!!"

"That doesn't prove anything! Except your obvious lack of care for your future! Do you even try to apply yourself?"

"I try! I just- I just don't get it!!

"What is there not to get?!" His father scoffs. "Why can't you be more like your brother."

"Because I'm not Darrell!! I'm NOT smart like HIM!!" Conroy snapped back.

"CLEARLY!" His father screamed at him.

"STOP!!" Darrell's voice split through their torrent of screams. "Both of you take a time out!!"

The two looked at Darrell whom they forgot was there while they were lost in their own argument.

"Dad is right Roy. Your grade was disappointing, and you could have tried a little harder, but you can't blame him for simply not understanding, Dad. That's unfair."

Conroy rolled his eyes as their father scoffed, "He's just not applying himself. If he doesn't understand he can go to his room and study until-"

Conroy, already halfway up the stairs yelled back down, "Way ahead of you Dad!!"

"WITHOUT VIDEOGAMES!!" Cornel Samson screamed back as Darrell rubbed his temples. Conroy kept running up. He did not care whether or not he could play his games. He just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to escape from his father's overbearing glare and his brother's shadow. He just wanted to be alone.