The ACT is a very important test to take in your high school years. A lot can come of it. Good grades look good on a college resume, but a good ACT score could get you through college in its entirety depending on where you come from.

Usually I wouldn't participate in such things, but I decided that I would take part in an ACT practice test the Sunday after I'd managed to get back into school. I thought I was okay, but I was wrong.

That Saturday I sent an email to our head principal asking what time I needed to be at school for the practice. She'd emailed me back a few hours later, and unbeknownst to me something was sent back. It led to a whole world of trouble that I never could have been prepared for.

A year earlier while looking around in my email settings I came across the auto reply system, and I created one. It wasn't.. very nice.. I think you can see where this is going.

The following Sunday dad dropped me off at school, and I hopped on the bus. This was an open ACT practice hosted at a high school about half an hour away. So we got there and went through the test in full. I ended up making a twenty eight.

Still wasn't good enough if I'm being honest. Just a familial anecdote, but my dad made a thirty two his first try in the seventh grade. I wanted to do even better, guess I wouldn't be getting that wish.

I honestly thought everything was going alright. It was a sunny day, I'd just done an okay job on the "ACT", we were all heading back to school. Things were looking up, but then we rolled into the driveway.

I stepped off the bus and was met with the wide, sickening smile of Mrs. Beanen.

"Could you step into my office for a minute?"

I had no idea what was going on. The familiar knot of worry tightened in my stomach, and I just replied with an uneasy: "Okay..?", and followed her- but we passed her office. Instead of heading to her office, we went to Mrs. Brenson's. Dad was also waiting for me. I was in trouble again. I didn't know why or how or what for, but I was in trouble again.

"Could you have a seat?"

That voice tore through the air, dripping with fake enthusiasm and sweetness. I took a seat to the right of my dad, half terrified.

As it turned out, an old auto reply I'd set up in my email had been sent to Mrs. Beanon when I'd asked her when we needed to be up at school to catch the ride to practice. It was a stupid thing thirteen year old me had done while still obsessed with Undertale. I could honestly say that fourteen year old me remained obsessed with Undertale, but not quite to the same extent. Regardless, I'd forgotten all about that thing. It was a parody of a parody. Lyrics rewritten to be clean. I'd just, purely by accident, "threatened" a school principal.

Both the women in the room, Mrs. Beanon and Mrs. Brenson, seemed to understand that just fine. It was a simple mistake, but they still had to follow protocol and send me off to get a risk assessment.

Another missed school day.

Another missed class.

Another missed band practice.

You can imagine my devastation. Dad even vouched for me. He explained that asking me to miss practice or competition (which was getting likely at this point, our competition was the Saturday following this excursion) would be like telling the star football player that he couldn't play at finals. Of course, they didn't make an exception for me.

So off we went, back home. We, again, almost immediately went to Region 8 after returning my things to the house, but this time... things went a little differently.