Clever Girl

Chapter 30: like an otherworldly experience

The resentment I hold towards the hospital and Doctor Manning is reaching a seriously dangerous level. Is it wrong of me to want to strangle each and every one of them?

After my mother's release on Tuesday night, they still didn't offer any concrete information. I had stayed at the hospital the whole time, skipping school, and now I feel like it was a waste. Time for my mother, who I know was suffering through every second of it. Time for my father and Matty to spend with her, because I don't know how long she has, and that's the scariest part. 

It's now Wednesday and I'm shuffling through school like a zombie. I may as well moan and hold my arms out, thirsty for some kind of release from this state of absolute hopelessness. Though I don't even make it to my first class of the day before the announcements come on and I'm asked to go to the Principal's office. I march straight into Cranston's room without waiting for Shelley to direct me, and plop myself down in the seat across from his desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"Miss Boniadi, did Shelley advise you to come in just now?"

"Nope. Didn't think it was needed, since these visits are now a regular thing." 

"I see." Cranston sounds bothered as well, but as he studies me through his frameless glasses, I get the impression he's also attempting to subdue any ill feeling. He then pulls out several sheets of paper from his desk drawer, "Veronica, your Trigonometry teacher Mister Weir brought something very interesting to my attention. He showed me this."

I remain quiet and glance over the notebook pages I had given Mister Weir on Monday. I wait for the ball to drop, the world to shatter, my reality to catch up with my years of lying. Knowing that it's all my fault only adds salt to the wound, and I cower in my seat. 

Cranston presses on, "He also advised me he has never witnessed a student complete this many problems with such rapid speed and accuracy. While there's every chance the tutoring helped, and you did keep up with your studies in the two weeks you were away, I can't quite believe you would excel so quickly in such a short amount of time. Veronica, I'd like for you to sit in on our Calculus BC, AP class today, as well as our Physics C, AP class tomorrow. I would like to see if you are able to grasp those lessons and formulas just as quickly."

"Thank you, but. . . I'd prefer not to do that. I wasn't at school yesterday, and I need to focus on catching up. I still haven't finished all the work I missed in the two weeks I was away either."

"If I have your teachers grant you an extension for those assignments, will you attend the two classes?"

"No, that's okay. I don't want to."

"Veronica, I urge you to accept. I can't comment on why you haven't been performing this well since Freshman year, or why you are adamant on refusing to show your level of intellect now. Or, this could have been a fluke. I want to understand why this happened, why a student with so much possible potential was receiving C's and D's, when she could have been scoring off the charts."

My palms are beginning to sweat, and I can sense the rage within me bubbling, like lava that's about to overtake my entire universe. I don't know how to escape it, to calm myself down, to take control again. What I do know is that Cranston doesn't deserve my fury - it's not his fault I'm so stupid and that I let my secret out. The small Zen garden on Cranston's desk catches my eye, and I try to imagine what it must be like to be so peaceful. "Fine. Fine. I'll sit in, but only if I get two weeks extension. And you promise that I won't have to actually participate in those classes, and that the rest of my schedule won't be disrupted in any way."

~

How is it that seniors everywhere aren't addicted to some kind of drug, or another means of stress release? Internships, senior projects, SAT's, an endless series of other exams and tests, their obsession with transcripts, extracurricular activities. Apollo places a great amount of weight on Academics, and not as much on Sports or the Arts - their alumni is full of graduates of the best universities in the country, and so they pride themselves in scholarly excellence. Why else would Cranston care so much about a few students who might be failing? Why else would he care about my performance now? But because my secret has been partially revealed,  it would be senseless of me to continue pulling a blanket over it. Maybe I should listen to my parents, to Will, and let it all out - no more filters.  I can't keep worrying about it. I can't let it consume my entire life anymore.