I'm so fucked.

As if oversleeping and almost missing the bus (which was also late, mind you) wasn't bad enough, I was doing the awkward half-run across the schoolyard in a pathetic attempt to make it inside the school building in time, and that was just the cherry on top of this morning's disastrous cake.

None of this would be much of a problem if you didn't crash your car again, dumbass.

With both my hands full, I pushed the door open with my shoulder and dashed inside. And then I had a genius idea to check the time on my watch, almost spilling the last few sips of my lemonade in the process. Good, I had five minutes left until the beginning of the class.

I quickly finished my drink and threw the empty cup in the nearest trash can before stopping by the nearest bathroom to check my makeup and hair. I didn't have to look like a supermodel fresh off the runway this early in the morning, but at least I should try not to look like I've been dragged through the streets for seven consecutive days. I set my copy of 1984 on the counter next to the sink and leaned in to take a good look at myself in the mirror.

Shit. My hair wasn't that messy (just the normal amount that wavy hair would get on an average October morning—not that I thought the month itself mattered, per se), but my mascara was smudged. I was glad I did the bare minimum of makeup before leaving the house because I would usually have some eyeshadow as well, and that would've been a lot messier to clean up. I squinted at my nails, trying to figure out which one of them was the longest. I was a serial nail-biter, so I didn't have much to work with in the first place, but I concluded that the left thumb was the winner.

I carefully tried to scrape off the excess mascara that transferred to my eyelids. Behind me, I heard the door open, but I was burdened with too great of a mission to check if it was anyone I knew. Given my shallow pool of friends (like, kiddy-pool level of shallow) compared to the total number of students in the school, the probability of that was very small. Maybe one percent. I wasn't even sure how many students my school had, to be honest.

"I like that book," the girl next to me said once I removed the last bit of stray mascara. In a moment of brain freeze, I looked down to check which book she was talking about as if the book could magically change while I was fixing my makeup. "Did you finish reading it?"

I finally turned to look at the girl, and no, I didn't recognize her at all. Not that I was any good at remembering people's faces. "Oh, I didn't," I said. "I mean, I was supposed to read it years ago for English class, but half of the people don't read those books anyways. I actually just started it last night, so I didn't get that far yet." I had my recently discovered interest in reading to thank for that. I wasn't much of a reader up until last year, when I started slurping books up left and right almost overnight.

"It's one of my favorite books. Definitely worth the read." The girl pushed a loose strand of caramel hair out of her face and then flinched when the annoying school bell rang, its sound drilling into my head.

"Oh, shit," I muttered as I swung the backpack off my shoulder and haphazardly tried to open it. "Sorry, I have to go. I'm Mabel, by the way. I don't think we've met before." It felt rude not to offer a handshake while introducing yourself, let alone not to look at the person at all, but I was too busy trying to shove the topic of our conversation into my worn-out backpack.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to mind much. "I'm Katie. I'd love to hear what you think of the book once you're done," she said, awkwardly pointing at my freshly closed backpack.

"Sounds like a deal. I'll see you around!" I yelled out as I left, nearly sprinting out of the bathroom. I could not afford to be late to class yet again.

But fortunately for me, when I stumbled into the classroom with the force of a bite-sized hurricane, Miss Cooper was not there yet. My shoulders slumped, and I dragged my feet to the back of the room as I tried to subtly catch my breath. Chemistry was one of my least favorite classes this year, because aside from being exposed to science the first thing in the morning, I also didn't share it with any of my friends.

Right. I had friends.

Friends who texted me while I was bouncing around the school like a hyperactive bunny.

I took my phone out, and I barely managed to see two new texts—one from Molly, and one from Ashton—when I heard the clickity clack of Miss Cooper's heels. She entered the classroom, and I waited for her to get on with the lesson and stop paying attention before I carefully pulled my phone out to finally check those texts.

from: Molly
I'll see you in school then

Molly was usually the one who picked me up in the morning now that my car was... not in use, to put it nicely, but I didn't want to keep her waiting. A part of me regretted telling her to go on without me because of the utter chaos the morning had turned into, but I made it to class in time (or at least before Miss Cooper), and that was all that mattered.

The second text was from Ashton, and I had to take another peek at my chemistry teacher who was (luckily for me) deeply engrossed in the lesson. Certainly much more than me.

from: Ash
late again?

i overslept :(

and my bus was late smh

I wasn't too surprised when I saw a reply pop up on the screen soon after.

u shouldve tld me

id pick u up

i didn't have the time

but it's okay!! i still made it!!!

If anything was a dead giveaway Ashton was texting in class, those were the atrocious typos and laughable fifth-grader spelling. I was better than that, though. Over the years, I'd mastered the arts of pretending to pay attention and typing without looking at my keyboard, both of which he was terrible at. So terrible, that a teacher had perhaps confiscated his phone again, because I didn't get a reply for the rest of the class.

Instead, I had to entertain myself by doodling what looked like distant cousins of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs in my notebook while only half-listening to the teacher. Maybe I would listen a little more (like two-thirds, or even three-quarters) if I actually liked chemistry, but I didn't. I just waited for the bell to ring so I could get the hell out of there.

I was so happy to join the swarm of students rushing to the exit, but Miss Cooper seemed to have different plans. "Mabel, can I talk to you for a second?"

Shit. My hand instinctively covered the pocket where my phone was now resting. She didn't see me use it throughout the class, did she? I knew I was careful enough. If she saw me, she would've confiscated it already, or at least warned me.

My dear old chemistry teacher (well, not literally old, she was still pretty young) clearly had no consideration for my anxiety, because she blissfully ignored me and ordered some papers on her desk as I stood there like a particularly nervous personification of the standing person emoji. The comparison itself would be enough to make me giggle, but I did my best to control myself. That would've been even weirder.

Once all the students left the classroom (except for me, obviously), she finally turned to me and pushed her glasses back to the bridge of her nose before she spoke. "Look, Mabel, I noticed that your grades haven't been doing well—" That was an understatement of the century, if I may say so, "—and the school year barely even started. Last year, you barely passed the class, and I don't want to see a repeat of that in your senior year, so I found a student who could tutor you and help you catch up a bit faster."

"Oh." My brain suddenly emptied itself of any other thoughts, echoing the oh over and over again.

"You could use some help with studying, and the student I had in mind recently moved here, so this could be a good opportunity for her to get to know someone as well." I wasn't sure whether to be flattered, offended, or simply bewildered that she thought of me as a potential candidate for the new student's best friend, as if I wasn't capable of making friends of my own (which I really wasn't, in all honesty). "I already asked her if she would be able to tutor another student and she said yes, so if you agree, I'll just confirm it with her and have her reach out to you."

I tried my best to coat my words in a thick layer of sarcasm as I said, "Well, it's not like I have a choice."

"You do have a choice. I won't lower your grade if you don't accept the offer, or anything of the sort." She probably wouldn't be able to lower it even if she wanted to, but I didn't need to point that out right now. "I would just like you to take this more seriously. I don't want you to fail the class, especially not in your senior year."

I let out a reluctant sigh. I knew she was right. My parents were already giving me a hard time because my grades were nothing short of a disaster last year, and I doubted they'd be any nicer now that college was approaching.

"Alright," I said.

"Perfect," Miss Cooper said, beaming. "I'll let her know, and she'll probably reach out to you by the end of the week." She dismissed me after saying her piece, but I didn't feel as enthusiastic as I thought I would when I finally left the classroom.

I'm so fucked.

***

i hope you guys like parentheses. because mabel sure does :D

chapter word count: 1752
total word count: 1752