WILD (✓)

~ one ~

"Just a minute," I shout, pushing my hands against the bathroom door. I lean my forehead against the cool surface, reminding myself to breathe. In, and out. In, and out. See? Easy, I tell myself, still unconvinced.

Another loud bang rattles the door on its hinges. "Are you okay in there? You've been in awhile," The voice whines from the other side.

Just a couple more weeks, I remind myself, double checking that the door is locked before I make my way to the mirror. Looking at my reflection, I am ashamed of what I see. The girl in front of me is no where near the perfect girl I was raised to be. Her makeup is dark and smudged around her eyes, which themselves are bloodshot from all the tears. I was supposed to excel in college - I'd done everything right to prepare, getting good grades, volunteering, clubs, even a sport in the winter when my job at the frozen yogurt shop closed for a few months. And yet...

I press a damp paper towel under my eyes, wiping at the smudged mascara. Taking a few deep breaths, I grab my backpack off the floor and onto my shoulders. Chin raised, I open the door quickly, barely making eye contact with the other woman in line. I hear her irritated huff as I walk past, but I keep going until I'm out of the campus center and standing outside my dorm.

The building is pretty typical, old and probably full of mold. I'm pretty sure they haven't redone the dorms since they were first built, but the rooms are decently sized. As I trudge up the three flights of stairs to my floor, I say hello to the group of girls walking by, trying to appear calm and collected.

It's just about noon, so I know Hannah, my roommate, will be in class. Whereas I opted for morning classes, leaving me done by noon every day, Hannah prefers to sleep in, staying up well into the night to get her studying done. We're different in small ways like that, but ultimately, the mutual hatred for chemistry brought us together our freshmen year. As it turns out, chemistry sucks no matter when you do it.

Chemistry. I crumple my fist around the thick exam packet in my hands. An F. I got an F. I have never gotten an F in my entire life and yet, this semester, with only a couple weeks until finals, I'm failing Biochemistry. There's no way I'll get my grade up in time for the semester to end. And like that, the tears are falling down my cheeks once more.

Needing to hear her voice, I grab my phone and quickly dial my moms cell. "Hi baby," She answers on the first ring. She's probably home on her lunch break now, pulling together something delicious and unlike dining hall meals.

"Hi," I squeak, hugging a pillow in my lap.

"What's wrong? Is everything alright?" I hear the panic in her voice already. My heart hurts at the thought of letting her down.

"This is just really hard," I whimper, biting my lip to keep the tears at bay.

"What is?" The TV hums in the background and I long to be sitting there with her, curled up in a blanket, maybe reading a book while she watches the news.

"Biochemistry, finals, college, in general, I guess." I wipe at my cheeks furiously.

"Oh honey, you'll be just fine. You just do your best, you hear me? Remember last semester you were worried about that oral presentation and look how that turned out!" Her voice is light again when she realizes the only concern is my grades. I had gotten an A. But that wasn't the point. Up until now, my best has always been good enough.

I want to tell her about my exam, I do. But hearing how she believes in me, even when I spent two weeks studying for nothing, is just too much. I pick at the edge of my comforter, "Okay,"