For a few seconds, the flow of time came to a halt. I opened my mouth, but words simply refused to come out of it. It was as if my brain was suddenly hit by an arrow, with that arrow completely killing off all of the logic and reasoning abilities that I once possessed.

Once again, I tried to say something. All that came out was a nearly inaudible squeak. Beads of sweat began to roll down my forehead, making their way down through the convex surface of my face. I shifted my feet slightly towards the direction of the front door. Could I make a run for it?

I contemplated the possibility. I could have taken my old bike, and cycled back home. If Terry Fox walked halfway across Canada, I'm sure I could manage a trip across a major state or two. I would live with Melissa, and after high school, we would get married and have three kids. We would live in the suburbs in a nice neighbourhood, with a nice car and everything. I would name our three kids Goku, Vegeta, and..

"Malik, I'll give you one last chance," my mother said, taking me out of my lovely dream world. This was reality, and I wasn't about to get off so easy.

"Boy, don't make me take out the belt," she yelled, shifting her hands slowly towards her silver belt buckle.

That threat helped my brain function again. It was as if the arrow was surgically removed, and the healing process was well underway. "I...uh...the median was like a 45. I did better than the average."

She paused, but her eyes were still enlarged, making her face look similar to a kid's googly-eyed arts and crafts project. "Yes, because I raised my son to be average. Why can't you be more like your stepsister Rachel?"

With that statement, my eyes began to narrow. I could feel my face getting warmer, as I started to clench my fists. "Why are you always comparing me to other people," I replied. My eyes narrowed, and I looked at her directly. "You know it's been hard for me since I moved here, just leave me alone!" I turned my back towards her and began to run up the stairs. The sound of my feet rapidly tapping against the hardwood resonated across the house.

Just then, my mom grabbed my shoulder. Turning back, I realized that her eyes weren't nearly as enlarged. However, the scowl on her face clearly indicated that not all of her anger was gone just yet.

"Look, don't you try that white boy stuff with me. Angus may act like that in front of his parents, doesn't mean you can too. Get help from your teacher. If I don't see an improvement in your grades soon, well, I feel sorry for the future you."

Taking her hand off my shoulder, she handed the paper back to me and began to walk away. After a few seconds to recollect my thoughts, I walked up the rest of the staircase. Before I could even get to my room, Rachel appeared right in front of me, blocking the entrance to my door.

"You know what? I agree with your mom; you should be more like me!" Rachel proceeded to stroke her hair, placing a lone strand of it beneath her ear.

"I don't have time for this Rachel, just get out of my way," I responded, trying as hard as I could to avoid any emotion in my voice.

"Someone's cranky!" Rachel responded, as the corners of her mouth began to drag. "Alright man, it's just too fun messing with you, ya know?" She touched my shoulder for a second and walked away.

Finally opening the door to my room, I closed it with a tiny bit more force than usual. My intent was to make it seem like I was angry, yet not too angry to the point where my mother would reprimand me for it.

For a while, I simply stared at the paper that was still in my hands. I figured I might as well look at the comments that I received on it. Soon, I began to yawn and my vision began to blur, as my eyelids began to flutter at a fast pace. After a while, the words on the page started to form a disjointed symphony of letters, blending in with the white background behind them. One thing that stayed constant was the massive red number at the top of the page, demanding my attention over everything else on the page. Was my mom right, should I be more like Rachel?

Mulling it over for a few seconds, I hit myself on the forehead lightly for even considering that possibility. But, on that day, there was a spark that was ignited deep in the recesses of my mind. Even though it had just been born, it was already on its last legs, ready to get blown over by any antagonistic force that came its way. But, for the first time, it was actually there. Before I realized it, that spark would grow into a flame, soon engulfing my mind with a burning sensation. I now experience this sensation every time I sit down on my trusty computer and begin to type. It's this sensation that helped me pursue my dream, even while almost everyone else around me thought I could never do it.

If you ever get that sensation, that spark in your brain, don't let go of it. Nurture it, let it grow and let it engulf you. It'll be the best thing that you could have ever done for yourself.

Before I knew it, I was fast asleep. My body was sprawled upon my bed with my paper right beside me. The following Monday, I went to school. It was the same old routine. Listen to classes which I hated learning about, enjoy my one hour of freedom during the school day, and then listen to more classes I hated learning about. However, after school, I broke the cycle. I waited for the rest of the class to leave once the bell rang. Chairs squeaked and screeched as people got up from their chairs and left the room. After a minute, the only two people left in the room were me and the smart, frizzy-haired girl.

Mrs. Chung began to talk, although her tone of voice was softer than usual. "Alright, I'm going to fill some paperwork, I'll be back in a few minutes." Her high heels slammed against the tiles as she walked away.

The frizzy-haired girl was sitting in the front of class, adjacent to Mrs. Chung's table. I still didn't know her name, which I thought was pretty pathetic. It was almost a month since school started, and by then, I knew almost all of these random acquaintances in my classes by name, except for her. My mind began running through the possibilities. Stacey? I doubt it, but I heard her mom was pretty hot. For a good minute, I thought her name could have been Kelsey. Then I remembered that was a girl in my history class.

Theresa? Simone? Harmony? I paused for a second and realized I had begun naming soap opera characters. I made a mental note to stop watching soap operas with my mom, immediately. In my defense, they were incredibly addictive.

Before I knew it, Mrs. Chung had walked back into the room. Sitting down on her leather chair, she moved it closer towards her table, which was adorned with an array of worn-out books. They were the kind that were visibly ripping apart at the seams. The kind that were so loved and read that their tears, rips, and creases didn't become signs of abuse, but became badges of honour.

Looking at me, she began to speak. "I'll address you after I address Tanya, is that okay?"

I nodded. So that was her name! I know you're thinking I was off, which is kind of true. I did guess that her name was Theresa, which was somewhat close. Anyways, as they began talking, I realized I didn't understand most of it. Despite the fact that they were talking in English, most of their conversation sounded like pure gibberish. It felt like I was in math class again, subjected to unwieldy and complex jargon primarily used to make pretentious people sound smart.

In a few minutes, Tanya gathered her stuff and left the room, leaving me and Mrs. Chung as the last two people in the room.

"Why don't you take a seat?" she gestured, pointing to a chair directly in front of her desk. The modern aluminum surface of the desk seemed to clash with the traditional feel of the books surrounding it. Taking a seat, I had already decided I wanted this process to move as quickly as possible.

"So, what seems to be the matter Malik?" Mrs. Chung smiled, making it the first time I had ever seen her smile. Her teeth were as white as the fur of a polar bear, nearly blinding me as the ambient light in the room bounced off of them.

"Um, it's about my papers. I don't see why you're giving me such low grades on these. My mom got seriously pissed off at these, so I have to figure out why they're so low," I replied.

"Okay. Can I take a look?" Mrs. Chung asked, holding her hand out.

I showed her my essay on The Lottery. As she read it, I began to express my resentment towards her class. "I don't really get why this gets a 47 percent. At my school back home, this would have been an 80 percent, minimum. What's so bad about this? And it's not just me, half the class is failing."

A minute later, she responded. Instead of yelling at me like she did during class, she spoke in a much softer tone of voice. "To be honest, Malik, I should have given you a lower mark than I did. First of all, you clearly just rewrote the same paragraph a bunch of times, changing the wording slightly here and there. Second of all, you'd have to be mad if you really expected an 80 percent from this."

"Fine, but what about this?" I pulled out the first essay we did. "I still got the exact same mark, and I didn't rip off anything!" I said, raising my tone of voice slightly.

Taking a minute, Mrs. Chung looked over the paper. "Yes, it was a well-earned mark. You copied the plotline from Finding Nemo, almost directly. In addition, there's no sense of pacing, and your main character, named Bob, has no redeemable qualities. There's an overabundance of tropes, and the writing doesn't flow well at all."

"But, still, a 47 percent? I tried my hardest, but I still failed."

"Nope. That's a whole bunch of poppycock. I don't believe that you tried your hardest, and it shows. You obviously wanted to get out of that class as soon as you possibly could, leading to a rushed story when you even had time to work on it at home."

"But, I did try," I replied while raising my eyebrow. Internally, I wondered how it was possible for her to be so accurate about this stuff.

"Look, we can argue this all day long, but let's just be honest here. If you want to improve your marks, you have be honest with yourself. Did you try your best to craft this short story, utilizing the time that I had given you to make the best work you possibly could?"

I didn't respond. I knew she had me on this one.

"Say it," she continued. Time slowed down again, and it felt like an eternity  had passed. I really didn't want to admit that I was wrong. So, I decided to focus on the clock that was hinged on the wall directly to my tight. The robotic sound of the clock never skipped a beat. I knew this sound wouldn't change. Tick tock. Tick tock. Ah, yes, it was kind of soothing to hear.

"I don't have all day, Malik," she said, gently tapping the pencil in her hand on the desk below her.

Breaking my focus from the clock, I turned my eyes back towards her. "Fine, I didn't try on that story," I said, as I slumped against my chair. Just then, I saw her eyes glisten, with her face exhibiting a slight smile.

I took a deep breath and continued to speak. "I didn't try on any of the stories, but I want to try to do well now."

Mrs. Chung's grin turned into a wide smile, the corners of her mouth forming into tiny dimples. "Great, now we can begin the process of improving your marks."

But of course, it wouldn't be just a process of improving my marks. It would be a process of finding something that I would eventually love a million times more than I ever loved video games. It would be a process of finding something that would create a burning sensation of desire within, but also finding something that would help support me during the worst of times, like now.

What started as darkness turned into a spark, which would eventually grow into an everlasting flame. That flame that would eventually consume my life, and make me find my true purpose in it. I have my mother, and my grade ten English teacher to thank for that.

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A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the hiatus and inconsistent uploading schedule, but now that my exams are over, I promise to have more consistent updates. I'm going to try to upload weekly, and we'll see how that goes. Thanks to everyone who's reading this, and your support means a lot, hell it's half the reason why I'm so excited to write the rest of this book.

also, it's really exciting to go into a new arc! the next chapters will definitely be interesting, so stay tuned for those!