The next day, Natasha was a nervous wreck all through breakfast and homeroom. She hadn't mentioned the email she'd received to her mother—no point in getting herself punished when she could avoid it—but had still gotten so nervous at breakfast that she'd almost hugged Amethyst when her guest had told Mrs. Summerville that Natasha's strange behavior was a result of her staying up late studying the night before.

Right after homeroom ended, Natasha slid Amethyst a note that said that she had a question to ask Mrs. Floris, then lingered by the tape dispenser until the classroom emptied out. She did not want a soul to see her getting humiliated for her grades.

Once the room was empty, Natasha finally set the tape flower she'd been obsessing over onto the counter and made her way up to Mrs. Floris's desk.

"Y-you wanted to see m-me, Mrs. Floris?" she asked once she was just a few feet away.

"Natasha? Yes, I did." Mrs. Floris motioned for Natasha to stand behind the desk with her, then pulled up a window on her computer. Natasha gulped. It was her grades.

"Natasha, you're an excellent student," Mrs. Floris began, but Natasha couldn't hear the rest of her speech through the sudden ringing of her ears. Natasha's column of perfect As had vanished, like they were never there. Instead, her grades list showed an A+ in English and A-'s in most other classes. Natasha nearly choked when she spotted the B- next to Creative Writing, Ms. Calibri.

"Does that sound good to you, Natasha?" Mrs. Floris asked, bringing Natasha back to the present. Natasha blinked.

"What?" Had her mother seen her grades yet? Did her mother know about her B-? Would anyone ever see her the same way after this? Would her mother decide to kick Natasha out instead of Amethyst? Would—

"I was saying that we'd have a conference with your mother to talk about what's happening. Your grades aren't bad, Natasha, so you needn't worry about that, but overall I've seen you struggling in school lately," Mrs. Floris repeated.

"Meeting? Meeting? No, no, I'm good," Natasha protested. Mrs. Floris squinted at her.

"Are you sure, Natasha? Because I don't mind—"

"I'm sure," Natasha cut in. Then she flushed and quickly rephrased. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I can work it out on my own."

Mrs. Floris nodded. "Okay, Natasha, I'll trust you on this one. But remember that I'm always here if you need help, and so are your other teachers."
"Yep." Natasha smiled shakily. "Thanks!"

Natasha grabbed her bag and hurried out of the classroom as fast as she could without actually looking like she was trying to get out of the classroom as fast as she could. From what Mrs. Floris had said, it seemed like Mrs. Summerville hadn't seen Natasha's terrible, terrible grades yet, but Natasha knew that it was only a matter of time before she did.

Natasha was just rounding the corner to her locker, half in a trance, when something—or someone—came barreling towards her from the other direction and sent her—and everything she was holding—flying towards the ground.

"Hey!"

What do you think Natasha will do about her grades? Will her mother find out? How will her mother react?

~ writesthetic