The Good, The Bad and the Molly – Chapter Three

An F. I got an F on my first paper. That wasn’t right. I spent a lot of time on it. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Could I have really screwed up that badly?

Maybe I should have checked my e-mail for anything Daisy sent me. This was bad. If it were any other time it might be fine but this was bad. We were maybe two months into the school year, and this was seriously going to weigh down my mark. A mark in a class where I needed a 70 or above, no questions asked. This was not the start I wanted to have with my junior year.

I was used to fooling people that I’m fine when I’m not, so getting around even a good actor like Chris was no problem for the whole time we were at the gym. I may not have been the studious nervous-to-fail two-steps-from-nerd type like Molly, but I cared a lot about my marks. The F ate away at me something fierce. I had to get an 80 on the three papers left in the course to break even, and knowing my prof, that was going to be very hard. One slip-up meant a mistake that was going to cost me an extra year. And more money than I had.

I trudged back to the house, the backpack weighing me down more than usual. Chris, as peppy as ever, practically skipped behind me.

“You alright, sweetie?” Chris piped up as we neared the house. “You’re not normally this silent.”

I chuckled. “Chris, you’re always so concerned about others. Relax, my back just hurts.”

Chris huffed. “Told you you should have just stuck with 140.” He told me. “You pushed yourself too far. Jerome gives the best massages if y-“

“Really, Chris.” I interrupted, my smile probably losing its warmness. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Okay.” He said hesitantly as he opened the door. He held it for me and I walked in, sighing as I dropped my backpack down near the door.

“We’re ho-ooome!” Chris sang to Guess Who.

Jerome emerged from the living room, the beginnings of a smile on his face. Chris leapt towards him and hugged him. “Hey, baby.” He greeted him sweetly. “We all set for tonight?”

Jerome smiled enthusiastically as he picked up a bottle from a nearby table. Smirnoff. “All set!” He announced.

“This looks like a celebration.” I joined in casually.

“It sure is.” Jerome said happily. “Everything got cleared up. Chris is moving in.”

“No shit?” I asked happily. “Way to go!” I hugged Chris supportively.

“It won’t be today, or even in the next week, but it’s all straightened out.” Chris told me, still in the hug. “It’s up to the landlord to give Jer Bear a date for me to move my stuff in. I’ll just have some difficulty getting my bed up the stairs.”

I scratched my head. “There’s only one room upstairs, and it already has a bed.” I told Chris slowly.

He looked at me with one eyebrow lowered. “And it’s not yours or Molly’s, genius.” He quipped.

“It’s time you knew. Chris and I are in a relationship.” Jerome chimed in with his own sarcasm.

“Yeah yeah, I know all that.” I replied, waving my hands around. “Don’t get jokey. But, why don’t you just get one king-size bed?”

Jerome and Chris looked at each other, then back to me. Chris shrugged. “We’re just not that kinda people, I guess.” Chris suggested.

“Okay.” I shrugged. “I’ll help with the bed. Keep in mind I can apparently only can bench 140.”

“Oh, you.” Chris smirked, then looked at the bottle. His eyes lit up. “Hey! Maybe you should have some! It might help your back.”

“Uh, no, it’s fine.” I mumbled, my head turning stormy with the news of the F resurfacing in my head.

“Oh, come on!” Chris begged. “It’ll be fun. Jer has another whole bottle! You should unwind.”

“Please, no.” I said seriously. “Maybe another time. I got stuff I should do.”

“You’ve got tomorrow off. Can’t it wait?” Chris begged.

“Chris, don’t pressure him.” Jerome gruffly ordered.

Chris sighed annoyedly. “Fiiiiine.” He moaned. “More for us anyway. Go do your work, stiff.” He sauntered into the living room. Jerome joined him.

“You wish I were stiff.” I remarked dryly as I walked past them.

“Ooh, highlight the homosexuality. Good one. Haven’t heard that a million times today.” Chris sarcastically called after me as I walked down the stairs. My slight smile I put on for them disappeared, as did any need to pretend to act happy.

I sighed as I sat down at my desk. Well, I thought to myself, I don’t want this to be a repeat performance. I threw my phone onto the bedside table to make sure it wouldn’t distract me, then I booted up my computer and began to work diligently on other assignments, not even bothering to stop and think until they were all done. Chris was right, failure was a powerful motivator.

But I didn’t need this failure. I didn’t need the pressure. Not just academically – I felt worthless. An F was a sign you didn’t know what you were doing, and I was confident. I fucked up, plain and simple. I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. I hated how that was a running theme in my life.

I came back to the world of the living once my assignments were done. I didn’t even want to look at the clock – I probably toiled hours away removing any excess stress from the next week. But those are small projects in small classes, I thought to myself. You fucked up.

Out of habit, I opened up my email. Still thinking about the assignment, I saw an email from Daisy. I opened it to see my paper’s text, with criticisms and notes jammed in every corner she could fit. At the bottom sat a footnote.

‘Given what the professor asked of you, you misunderstood the topic. Rewrite IMMEDIATELY – I can’t see this getting anything better than an F. Bye, Aaron.’

No words hit me. I just read. And reread. I was standing up. I was raising my hands. I was slamming them down on the desk, roaring out my fury before retiring to my bed, sitting down on it, collapsing into the best imitation of a ball I could muster.

A timid knock on the door was the next thing I heard. “What?” I barked. The door slowly opened, and yet no one said anything. I didn’t want to look up from my stomach. “What?” I repeated.

“A… are you okay?” Came the timid voice of Molly. She was home.

“What time is it?” I asked, my voice probably muffled considering my mouth was practically in my chest.

“10:32.” She answered quietly. I didn’t respond, and I could tell she let herself in when I felt someone sit down next to me. Molly’s hand snaked her way up my back, and began to rub it sympathetically.

“You want to ask me what’s wrong, don’t you?” I asked her after a while.

I could hear her smile sweetly. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want.”

I sighed and uncurled. “Nah, it’s really no big deal.” I replied. “I’m just a b-“

A loud text tone stopped me in my tracks. Most teens wouldn’t care and would just finish their sentences, but I really wasn’t one for texting. It was unusual for anyone to text me.

Molly looked over at the phone, still on the bedside table. “Want me to get that for you?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure, why not.” I replied in a defeated tone. She looked at me then, hesitantly, picked up the phone and gingerly put it in my outstretched hand.

I turned on the screen and opened the messages. It was from my dad.

Hey. How’s your mom? I need you at my place this weekend, no negotiations. You need to do some work for me. I’ll want to hear about your grades when you’re here, and I expect to hear good things. You know what will happen if I don’t. Dad

Molly read my expression as I read the text. “It’s your dad, isn’t it…?” She timidly asked.

My grim scowl turned into a happy grin as I faced Molly. “What, are you kidding?” I merrily chanted to her.