512 words
the gasconader.
I ran through the halls, eager to find out my grades. I had been studying and studying and studying and it was finally the end of the semester.
I hadn't eaten. I was elated. I had already heard about how good a student I was, how good my studying methods were, how good my understanding and analyzations skills were.
I know. I labored for those attributes. I ran to my classroom. The teacher- a substitute I don't know their name. Or care. Regardless, I thanked them as they presented me my paper.
I scanned the top of the document, only to find my greatest fears materialized in red ball pen ink. It wasn't the A+ I wanted. or even an A. Or A-. It was a B+, and God knows that's just an F with bells and whistles.
"Better luck neck time," I thought. I don't really take losing very well, but I can manage. Of course not. I feel physical pain when I lose. I hate it.
I had gotten a subpar grade on a test. "88%..." I started to furrow my brows. A B+. It's nauseating.
I looked over to my friends' tests, looking for a grade lower than mine to comfort the churning in my stomach. Everyone got a better grade than I did. Even everyone who didn't matter.
I was sleepy when I took the test- hungry? Was I hungry? I mean, maybe I was a little sick. Maybe another non-serious physical ailment. Maybe I could pin it on my mental health? I don't know. Maybe I just...didn't...
try hard enough. Maybe. No. No, I tried really, really hard. I just-
I can't believe this. Me?? I'm- I'm- Well, I'm a prodigy. I don't like to brag... outwardly. Do I sound full of myself? I don't really know these kinds of things. I didn't really hang out with anyone my age. I still don't.
FINE! I sound arrogant to you? Well, I mean maybe I wouldn't be this way if you hadn't ISOLATED me my entire life. What am I supposed to do? What do you want me to do? Okay! You got me! I don't actually care about grades. I DON'T! I just want approval, alright? I just want to be recognized for the work and effort I put in. I've tried being like "the other kids"! I JUST CAN'T. I'm SORRY, OKAY?
You don't understand. I don't know what it means to have petty teenage drama. I hate you being sad over petty teenage drama. You know what my teenage drama is?
My self-worth is based soley in my performances and accomplishments and not who I am or how happy I am. Everyone around me treats me like a sick dog and I HATE it. I'm not weak. I'm not beaten. I am more than a girl who knows things, Dad. And I swear that I will prove to you that I am more- I am the most capable 14-year-old girl alive. Any son you've ever wished for would be null and void if he did exist.