My midterm results were released the next day.

It had barely been over two weeks, and yet it felt like it had been an eternity since I took my midterm exams. It had gone past in a blur of anxious days until I woke up to the blinking notification that stuck a lump into my throat—a manifestation of all my anxieties rolled into an immovable ball.

I sat on my bed, my laptop tilting on the mattress in front of me, cursor hovering over the link to my grades for the exam I'd been most worried about; the biomolecular subject I had with Lachie.

My pulse quickened but I sucked in a deep breath. I'd worked hard for this exam. I studied every day. Even when Everett showed up, ready to spend every waking minute together, I still studied. I put my all into this.

It would be fine.

No, it would be more than fine. It would be good. I'd get an amazing score, and I wouldn't have to worry about my last assignment and final exam. My hard work would pay off. The rest of the semester would be a breeze.

It was going to be great.

Breathing out, I clicked onto the link, watching the link turn purple, waiting as the page loaded.

Waiting.

Waiting.

My eyes fell straight to the numbers, flashing on my screen in bright red. Bright red that blurred suddenly as my eyes began to water. I blinked hard, re-reading the screen. The numbers that were impossible to misinterpret.

Forty-five.

Forty-five out of one hundred.

I hadn't even passed. I hadn't even scraped a pass. No. I failed.

I froze, staring at the screen. This had to be some sort of joke. This had to be a prank, or a mistake. They must have switched my paper with someone else's. They must have misread my name. I must have typed my student number in wrong. It was impossible.

I'd spent hours studying—days. I wasted my nights hunched over my laptop, the screen straining my eyes. I spent calls with Everett, my eyes glued to my notebooks. His entire visit here, I spent most of it flicking through my lab manual. And for what? Failure? I'd never failed an exam in my life, and yet here I was, the bright red forty-five laughing at me from my laptop screen.

I didn't realise when I started crying, but by the time the screen flickered into blackness, my cheeks were already wet, salty tears dripping over my chin and onto the keyboard. I huffed, slamming the laptop shut and moving it to my bedside table, grabbing my phone instead.

It was like the room was spinning around me. Nothing made sense. How could this be possible? After all that? I had been so confident that I was prepared, and I couldn't even scrape a pass?

Now—now, my report due next week was vital. My final exam—I had to pass it. No, I had to do well in it to make up for the lost marks.

My mind was whirring, already calculating how many more marks I'd need for an overall pass. It was too many.

I needed Everett.

My phone was ringing before I could even wipe my tears away. It didn't matter, though, because it rang, and rang, and rang, and he never answered.

My eyes flickered to the time, and I realised it was two in the morning in New York. I laughed, the bitter sound coming out harsh between my sobs.

Instead, I shot him a text, apologising for calling him so late, asking him to call me when he woke up. Maybe it'd worry him. Maybe I wanted him to worry so that he'd call me sooner.

I just wanted to hear his voice.

Except, that wasn't true, was it? I wanted his arms around me. I wanted his words by my ears, whispering comforts so closely that his breath filled the air. I wanted him here. Not that I'd admit it to him.

I sighed, flopping back onto my pillow, and pulling up Instagram. I needed a distraction. I didn't want to think about my marks, about my assignments that had been piling up—about university in general.

What I hadn't expected was Everett's profile picture to pop up at the top of my screen, for him to have a story posted since the last time I'd opened the app.

Frowning, I clicked on it and immediately, my screen was illuminated with bright flashing lights, the camera pointed on Everett as pounding music played in the background. He was with the boy I'd met the other day, as well as some others I didn't recognise. A few mouthed to the lyrics in the background while Everett tossed back a shot, grinning at the camera.

He was at a party.

Before I could process what I'd seen, his face appeared on my screen again, except this time it was his contact number. He was calling me.

I answered without thinking and Everett smiled at me through the screen.

"Hey, babe—" he cut himself short, his smile morphing into a deep frown. "What's wrong?"

"What?" I looked at myself in the corner of the screen, noticing my watery eyes and teary face. I sniffed, wiping at my face. "Nothing. Allergies. Where are you?"

He hesitated. I knew from his story that a few minutes ago, he was taking shots at a party, but now it was quieter. He must have found a room to call me in when he got my text.

"I'm with some friends," he replied eventually. "What happened? You don't have any allergies. Did something happen to you?"

He lied. Why would he lie? It wasn't like he was trying to hide the fact that he was at a party a few minutes ago. He knew I had him on Instagram. Hell, half of his followers were the Nauti Buoys—the only time he used Instagram was to show us what he was up to, halfway across the world.

But now he was covering it up?

This was a mistake. I had called him again without thinking. I interrupted him. If I listened carefully, I could still hear the music in the background, laughter, shouting, singing. And here Everett was, hiding in a room to talk to his crying girlfriend all the way back in Australia.

And what was I crying over? An exam? It was my own fault. I had been too stupid to answer the questions properly. I had been too arrogant, thinking I deserved to go to one of the most prestigious universities in the state despite coming from a tiny, sheltered school in the middle of nowhere.

I was an idiot.

But Everett didn't have to deal with this. Not while he was having fun—finally living the college life.

So, I shook my head and put on my best smile.

"I didn't think I had allergies, but we just don't have that much pollen in Shellside Bay, you know? Sydney's, like, next level pollen. I'm dying here," I said.

Everett didn't buy it. "You texted me. You said to call you as soon as I got your message."

I shrugged. "I've never had allergies before. I thought it was so weird and wanted to show you it, but I'm realising now that you've probably seen allergies before, huh? I should leave you to what you were doing, sorry, Ev. I'll just—I need to take some—what are they called? Antihistamines? Maybe River has some—"

I was rambling. I had to stop. I could already feel that burning behind my eyes again, the promise of more tears to come. Everett frowned at me.

"No, Isla, you're not—I don't mind talking."

I shook my head, waving a hand. "It's fine, I have to get to go anyway. I have class soon. Don't want to be late/"

"Class? Isn't it almost night-time in Sydney?"

Shit. He was too good. Even when he was tipsy, he knew what time it was here. He could read me too well. My smile grew and I forced a chuckle.

"Oh, yeah. It's, like, a non-university class. I'm part of this club at uni that offers extra-curricular classes. They're in the evening so more people can attend. You know, after their compulsory lectures."

"Club? What club?"

"Spanish club," I said quickly. "Well, I should get going. Have fun with your friends, yeah?"

"Oh. Alright. Buenas noches, Isla."

"What?"

His frown deepened. "It's good night in Spanish."

"Oh. Right. I haven't attended that class yet, so..." This was becoming too convoluted. I shook my head, waving to the camera. "Night, Ev."

Before he could reply, I hung up, sighing and holding the phone to my chest.

Spanish club? I didn't even know if my university had a Spanish club. I'd never taken Spanish in my life!

It was all too much. First, I failed my midterm meaning I was on thin ice when it came to passing the subject this term, but now I was lying to my boyfriend? What was happening to me?

When had all of this become so complicated?

Picking up my phone, I turned to the next person I could think of—Sky.

Sky always knew what to do. She would cheer me up. And unlike Everett, we were in the same time zone, so I didn't have to worry about it being past midnight for her.

Before I could change my mind, I tapped onto the call button and waited as it rang. It rang five times before I decided she wouldn't pick it up. She did have a thing for leaving it on silent.

My room was dark. The sun had set since I'd checked my midterm marks and I felt like the darkness was eating me alive. River had gone out for dinner, Everett was at a party, and Sky wasn't answering her phone.

Now what?

I stared at the screen, the brightness straining my eyes in the dark of the room, but my body too lazy and worn out from crying to get up and turn a light on.

Austin's name stared up at me, but our conversation in Shellside Bay was still fresh in my mind. He was probably tired after work. I couldn't burden him with my problems too. Besides, we hadn't spoken in so long, and Austin probably wouldn't understand. He never cared about his marks in school. He'd probably just tell me it was only a number and that I could do better next time.

Yeah, right. I'd studied until my eyes were droopy. I'd gone over every prescribed reading, and optional reading. I'd watched every lecture twice. And yet, I still failed. I didn't even fail by one mark, or half a mark. Even if I'd gotten another question or two right, I still would've failed.

Calling Austin was out of the picture. Even my mother was overseas. She was supposed to fly to Italy last night. There was no way I was going to impede on her first day of travelling like that. She needed to destress and enjoy Italy, not sit on the phone listening to my problems.

Groaning, I threw my phone onto the floor, listening as it landed on the carpet with a thud before turning over and burying myself under my bed sheets. The mattress dipped with the movement, and I wished it would open up and take me whole.

I couldn't imagine going to class tomorrow, seeing Lachie, admitting that I'd failed while the students around me probably bragged about their high marks and amazing scores.

No, I wanted to lay here forever.

I don't know when the tears came back, but bythe time I fell asleep, my pillow was soaked.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Poor Isla has it rough! I hope you guys liked the chapter nonetheless! Manifesting top marks for everyone so we don't suffer like Isla is lmao

Next time: River takes matters into his own hands