"Not your best work this year, Mr. Styles.." The homeroom teacher murmured once she made her way over to my desk, setting down the orange envelope that had last semester's grades enclosed in it on a sheet of paper.

I let out a sigh, grabbing the report card and opening up the envelope. Taking the folded slip of paper out of the package, I unfolded it and let my eyes scan over the columns, where letters and numbers were neatly assorted.

C+ in Maths. That's not too bad.

F- in English. Okay, that's bad.

The rest of my classes didn't have the highest grades, but they were just enough over the passing boundary. I rolled my eyes, folding the paper back up and slipping it back into the orange envelope.

I definitely wasn't letting my mum see this. She'd have me by the throat for slacking on my grades.

The distant, annoying school bell went off, signaling that first period was about to begin. Everyone stood from their seats, and I lazily shoved the envelope in my book-bag, where it would probably find a home for the rest of the school year.

As I was about to walk out of the classroom, Ms. Jacobs, my homeroom teacher, called out after me, "Harry, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Internally groaning, I turned around on my heel and looked at the teacher with a confused expression. I walked over to her desk, my eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Yeah?"

She looked up from her computer with a sigh, pushing her rectangular framed glasses further up onto the bridge of her nose. "Harry, your grades aren't the best this past semester."

"I know, I know." I spoke, my arms crossing over my chest. This was a normal thing; my teachers going into a lecture about my grades.

"I know you have so much more potential than this. I've seen your results from your midterms everyone took before Christmas holiday. Your results were excellent, I'm afraid you just slack when it comes to homework and in-class assignments." Ms. Jacobs explained carefully, trying to get what she was saying into my head.

"School just isn't my thing, I guess." I could care less about what she was saying. Besides, in about six months, I'll be graduating and finally escaping-

"You do realize that if you don't receive enough credits by June, you won't graduate, right?" Ms. Jacobs arched an eyebrow, looking up at me from her seat behind the wooden desk.

My eyes widened at that. I couldn't repeat another whole year of high school!

Ms. Jacobs must've noticed my change of expression, because a small chuckle escaped her lips. "I think you want to graduate on time, am I correct?"

I instantly nodded, my fingertips tugging at the leather sleeves of my jacket. It was only January, so it was quite freezing outside, even though I was already in the school building.

The teacher thought to herself for a moment, reaching over towards the edge of her desk where a notepad of excuse passes sat. She grabbed her pen, scribbling down the usual required information so I wouldn't be marked tardy for my next class; which happened to be Gym.

Gym first period of the day wouldn't be as bad as some say it is. It usually tends to help wake me up from just awaking about an hour previous. Besides, I had a small group of friends in that class, too.

"I suggest talking to your English teacher, Mrs. Hatheway, about an extra credit assignment. She's always available for them, especially when someone is failing her class. It appears your lowest grade is in English, so start there, yeah?"

I let out a small huff of annoyance. English was in fact my worst subject, and it's not because I'm bad at it or don't understand it. It's just the simple fact that I don't do the assignments, because I don't care.

Ms. Jacobs, though, gave me a hopeful look as she handed me a bright blue pass that was filled out with my name, the destination where I was headed, and her signature. "Come on, Harry. Don't be stubborn, unless you want to stay back with us for another year."

I took the pass, before nodding reluctantly. If it takes me graduating on time and getting out of this prison cell, then so be it. A smile formed on Ms. Jacobs' face before she spoke, "That's what I thought. You can go now, before you're later than you already are."

With a small nod, I turned back on my heel and walked out of the classroom, turning down the hallway and walking towards the direction of the gymnasium. It was on the complete other side of the school, and the hallways were all cleared since class had already begun.

*

"So you're failing English, huh?" Liam spoke, more in a statement rather than a question. He said it in a tone that read I told you so.

Out of instinct, I rolled my eyes, lifting up both of the forty pound dumbbells as I sat down on the red leather bench in the fitness room of the gymnasium. Teachers weren't the only people to lecture me about my grades; Liam was always right along with them.

"Yes. Bring on the 'I told you so''s while you have the chance, would ya?" I scoffed, watching each of the dumbbells carefully as I would lower my forearms, bringing them back up slowly. I had definitely improved as far as my weight training goes; I'm hoping to be able to lift at least one hundred by the time the end of the school year comes around.

"You just need to keep up with your grades, is all." Liam sighed, walking over to the pull-up bar, letting his fingers wrap around it as he pulled himself up with ease. Liam was always one that lifted weights, alongside me. Sometimes you'd be able to catch the lad in the fitness room after school.

"Either that, or I don't graduate." I huffed, shaking my head as I looked around the room. Our gym teacher was writing notes down on a piece of paper that was connected to a clipboard; probably grading on if kids were participating or not. Believe it or not, there are plenty of people in this gym class that stand around with their thumbs up their asses for the entire hour period.

Liam almost fell as he brought his chin up above the bar, catching himself before lowering down to the ground in shock. "Wait, what? I thought you had enough credits earned up to graduate?"

"Apparently not. Jacobs talked to me this morning in homeroom and said that if I didn't get my English grade up enough to pass Mrs. Hatheway's class, I'd be held back." I sighed, setting the dumbbells carefully back down onto the ground,  where the other sets were all lined up along the wall.

I ran a hand through my mop of curls, groaning in frustration. "She suggested that I talk to Hatheway about an extra credit assignment."

"You have to do it, Harry! Or else we won't be able to graduate together." A small pout formed on Liam's lips, making him look like a puppy dog. His hands were dropped back down to his sides, looking over at me.

"I know, I know." I waved aimlessly, really not wanting to go through the same conversation again.

"Lockers!" Our gym teacher called out, followed by a small whistle. The music that was playing throughout the fitness room ceased, and everyone began filing out of the room.

After getting back changed into my normal clothes, I slung my book-bag over my shoulder, glancing over my shoulder at Liam, who was throwing on his red plaid button up shirt.

"Ready for English?" I rolled my eyes as I spoke. Liam looked up from his gaze on his shirt, looking over at me.

"Definitely not. I forgot to do last night's homework."

Shit.

*

"Harry, up here, please." Mrs. Hatheway spoke as I stood up from my desk and prepared to walk out of the room once class ended. There was no way in hell that I wanted to do this assignment; I could just easily pass if I kept up with the homework and assignments, right?

I internally groaned, looking back at Liam, who signaled for me to move forward. "Wait up for me, yeah?"

Liam nodded with a sympathetic smile, walking over towards the front door. But, he stood next to the doorway, leaning against it as he pulled out his phone and began typing away.

"Harry, has your guidance counselor, or anybody talked to you about your grade in my class?" Mrs. Hatheway asked, pulling out a slip of paper that was headlined, "Extra Credit"

"Yes, Mrs. Jacobs told me to ask you about an extra credit assignment." I spoke, ignoring the white, inked sheet in her hands. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, her eyes scanning over the different words on the paper.

Mrs. Hatheway was slowly getting there in age. She had to be at least in her forties, but overall she was a nice teacher, unless you were on her bad side. Me, for example. I'm one of those students that's slowly making my way onto her bad side from not doing my homework.

"I was hoping that maybe you'd keep up on your homework, but that seems like it's not going to happen. I'm not quite trustworthy on it happening, either. So this has left me no choice." Great, now I didn't even have a choice on if I wanted to do this assignment or not?

When I stayed silent, she lifted her small arm up to hand me the paper, which I reluctantly took into my own hands. "What if I don't do the project?"

"Then you don't graduate. Simple as that. The only reason I'm making this mandatory is because I know you have so much more potential than you put out." Dear god, enough with the lectures already, please?

She continued on as I kept my gaze fixed on the paper, scanning over the different project options. "There's a list of options. I'm leaving you to choose which one you want to do. This project is the only thing that will boost your yearly grade average up enough to have you earn your diploma and walk across that auditorium stage."

There was the typical assignments, like reading three books and writing an essay on each with selected prompts to go off of. No thanks.

A research project on Julius Caesar? I'll pass.

The rest of the extra credit assignments just seemed absolutely pointless and like a complete waste of time, but the last project suggestion caught my eye. As much as I didn't want to do this damn thing, this project would suffice.

"So which will it be, Mr. Styles?" Mrs. Hatheway spoke as her gaze stayed on me, while mine was glued to the assignment requirements. After reading through them, I looked up.

"Pen pal."

--

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