Dispatches from a Teenage Girl

Chapter 16

It's report card day. I can't believe I totally forgot. I am usually aware these days are coming and they've never stressed me out before. I always get decent grades and my mom always signs it without issue. To be honest, I've never been sure that she even looks at it very closely. It's just not something she's ever worried about.

But today, I am worried. I don't think it's going to be good. I know I haven't been keeping up with my work. Or my attendance. There is a nervous energy in the air as I head to homeroom. I wonder if this is how others have always felt on report card day. Anxious. Nervous. Nauseous.

Deep breaths as I step into homeroom. Everyone is sitting at their desks and it is eerily quiet. The teacher is standing at his desk, in front of a stack of envelopes. And then he begins reading people's names and they walk up and grab their report card. As I look around, it's quite clear that some of these people are a lot more nervous about this moment than others.

When I hear my name, I walk up so slowly as I know these are the last moments when I don't actually know the contents of my report card and can still deny that it's bad.

I return to my seat and open the envelope. I pull out the single sheet of paper, folded in three. As I slowly unfold it, I feel sick to my stomach. And then I see it, clear as day. I am in deep shit. An F. And two Ds. I have never failed a class before. I have never even gotten a C. And here I am with the worst report card of my entire life, just before I am supposed to get my college applications in. How did I get here?

***

I basically sleepwalk through the rest of my classes that day. I am terrified to bring home my report card. And I have not spoken to Sam since that awkward, awful lunch. Claire and Grace may as well have already moved away for school as we are completely not speaking. As soon as the final bell rings, I walk out of school and start walking home. But I can't bring myself to walk all the way there, not yet. I stop at a park bench and take a seat, psyching myself up for what's to come.

I grab my phone and look through my texts. I realize I still haven't written back to the editor. It all feels so long ago.

I am fine. Just getting some thoughts out of me.

That was all it was. And that is all this is. An outlet for what I am feeling about this strange time in our lives that we're all stuck in. Too young to be out on our own but too old to be stuck in the same place we were when we were children.

I feel like my feet are as heavy as lead. I just can't bring myself to walk the few more blocks home. I know my mom will be there. And I know she won't be happy. She obviously remembers it is report card day. Somehow parents always do. But how long can I escape the inevitable?

Well if you're sure, I am going to publish this in the next paper. But I have to tell you, I think it might not be as popular as your last piece. Are you cool with that?

I look at the editor's text and let it sink in for a second. I look out onto the road as cars drive by and I sit, too scared to face reality when I get home. And you know what? I think I am cool with it.

Ya, it's cool. I have to be honest.

And with that, I slowly start to stand up. Ready to face the music, as they say. One foot in front of the other.

When I get home, my mom is sitting on the porch. Which is highly unusual. She doesn't even say hello when she sees me. She just stares at me. Oh boy. This isn't going to be good. I walk up the steps and onto the porch.

"Lucy," she says very slowly. "Please sit down." And she motions towards the chair in front of her. I walk over slowly and sit down and slide into the chair, a full slump.

"First of all," I can tell immediately that she has been rehearsing what she's about to say in her head for, likely, hours. "I know you skipped school. I told you that you had one get out of jail free card. This time, you are in serious trouble. And when your math teacher called to tell me about the skipping, he also told me that you have been failing your assignments all year. Lucy, this is not acceptable."

I didn't know they would call her for a couple of skipped classes! I never skip class. Do they really call home for every single student who skips a class? How do they have the time?

I just stare at the ground. I honestly have nothing to say.

"I know it's report card day," she stares at me, waiting for a reaction. I give her none, I am basically frozen in this slump. "Hand it over."

And she holds out her hand... and waits. I stare at her. I can barely move. These are my last few moments before she knows the truth. I slowly unzip my backpack and pull out the envelope. My mom is looking at me with the most disappointed stare that I have ever seen on her face. I hand her the envelope.

She opens it quickly, unfolds it and begins to read through my marks. Lines begin to form on her forehead and they become deeper and deeper as she looks further down the page. Finally, after what feels like hours, she puts the report card down on her lap and looks me straight in the eyes.

"Lucy," she begins. "This is not okay." She pauses and takes a big breath and her forehead softens slightly. "I know this has been a hard few months for you. And I know the timing sucks, but this year is incredibly important for the rest of your life. These are the marks you need for college. You need to pull yourself together."

I lower my eyes. I can't look at her anymore. It's too hard.

"I have spoken with your guidance counsellor at school. You are booked in to speak with her on Monday at lunch."

This revelation literally takes my breath away. We are not a family that goes to therapy. We are tough. We are hard. We deal with our own stuff in our own way. I don't want to talk to some stupid guidance counsellor.

"Lucy, if you skip Monday's appointment, you are grounded for a month. No phone either."

My head drops lower.

"And you are definitely grounded this weekend, no phone, no computer in your room. That will give you some time to think about your future and how you want this to play out. I know you are smarter than this."

I nod, without looking up.

"I know it's hard being grounded for Claire's birthday weekend. I know you guys always do something."

Shit. I had totally forgotten. The sleepover weekend, our last one. Our last birthday celebration for Claire. I am the worst. The. Worst.

"And honestly Lucy, don't let Bruce win. Do not let him do this to your future."

And that last bit, it just hangs in the air. We can both feel the words deep inside. And we both know it's true. My mom gets up and squeezes next to me on my chair and pulls me into her. She hugs me tightly and we both just stay there, silent and sad.