Chemically Platonic

Chemically Platonic (01) F is for Failure

Chapter one F is for Failure

A gut wrenching pain was in the pit of my stomach. I should be used to this by now. This plummeting disappointment feeling was almost second nature. In my hands I held my latest chemistry test. On it was a big fat F for failure. It wasn't even as if he handed it to me discreetly in front of my class mates, he plopped it on my desk hard giving me a rather ignorant cough before proceeding to the next student.   

          I let out a distressful groan holding up the dreaded stabled booklet. I didn't have to flip through the test to know I had gotten everything wrong. My test was covered in red marks and scribbles which worsened my mood. Mr. Urlacher was out to get me. There was no denying the fact either.

          "Tough break," Someone muttered from behind me.

          They had either been looking over my shoulder or I was holding my paper high enough that everyone behind me could see my shame. I didn't reply, too deep in thought about what I should do next. Urlacher had told me constantly to try harder but chemistry wasn't enjoyable to me. Studying for hours would never improve my mark. When that test paper is laid in front of me my memory is erased.

          "I have a proposition for you," The gentlemen behind me spoke once again.

          This time, I turned around to further the conversation. I'd had a study partner before but they never seemed to turn out well for me. He was someone that I didn't know too well. Awkwardly, I meshed in with every stereotype, excluding popular. Of course, I knew of him but he barely spoke to me before this moment.

          The teacher, after passing out everyone's tests, stood at the front of the class prepared to give a lecture about how horrible we all had done. No doubt his eyes would be staring at me the whole time. In his mind I was a failure. I'd never had so much trouble in a class until this one. Mr. Urlacher thought I had a lack of drive but in honesty I was just mediocre.        

          "Can you meet me after class in the library?" I nodded my head, responding to his question before turning back in my seat slowly.

          Maybe this study partner would work out. After all I was starting to get desperate. Last week I had barely interrupted a phone call to my parents about the teachers concern for my grades. The fact that they were even interested seemed odd. Never had they confided in me about their concerns.

          "Looks like detention it is, Juliette," Urlacher spoke startling me.

          He gave me a disapproving look as I let out another aggravated groan before my shoulders sagged and my forehead rested completely on the cool wooden surface of my desk. I remained with my head buried inside my arms that wrapped around my skull. He hadn't commented or bothered to get me to pay attention for the rest of the class. I was the lump of coal amoung all the presents.  

          Class went by painfully and slowly. Occasionally I would lean back in my chair letting my eyes look down at my feet; which, rested on the metal rack under the students seat in front of me. It was nice to finally take a breath of fresh air.