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"Clara Ava Parr, I am absolutely disgusted!" my mother shouted at me, slamming my report card onto the dining table. I sat there wide-eyed and quiet with no excuse in mind that would please my mom.

"You are 16 years old! You only have two-" she started, but I cut her off.

"I have three, actually. And I'm sorry, it was a one time thing!"

"You got a 65 in math! You have to get a tutor!"

"Mom, I'll get my grade up, I promise!"

"Clara, do you know how hard we work to give you the life you get to live?" my dad jumped into the conversation.

I didn't answer, I knew very well it took numerous hours and effort. My mom is a doctor and my dad's a lawyer, some of the harder jobs in the country.

"I'm not meaning to fail!" I said, giving myself whatever shot I had of gaining back their confidence in me.

"I am extremely disappointed," my mom said, shaking her head.

"I am too," My dad agreed with her.

"It's not like a tutor will kill me," I grumbled.

"If it will bring up your GPA, I could care less," Dad replied.

I left the room, leaving my report card as well as my half eaten dinner and went to my bedroom. I walked in and then softly slammed the door shut behind me and hurled myself onto my bed. I looked up at the ceiling.

"A tutor won't be so bad, just don't be seen with the nerd and you'll be alright," Aside from being a smarty pants, I was popular, being seen with a nerd would ruin my reputation. Unless the nerd was cute.

Cute nerd? Yeah, right.

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