Reaching You

I handed the paper to my father. He placed his glasses on the tip of his nose as he read the score at the top of the paper. Then he flipped over to see what question I missed.

“You didn’t know this? It’s simple,” he grabbed a calculator from his table and punched in numbers. ”It’s 5.8 Joules per second. You need to memorize these formulas. That’s why you’re not getting it.”

He handed back the paper and it was so very difficult to keep from just ripping it out of his hands. All of my hard work torn to shreds by Sir Harvard graduate. I’m sorry I can’t be a physics engineer, Dad, sorry I can’t be your dream son.

As soon as I got to my room, I took out the bag of my perfect white powder and snorted just a little bit. I needed it to last the rest of the week.

Just another day until I can sleep.

*~*~*~*~*

I forced myself to get up as my alarm went off. The entire weekend was over. I, of course, had to wake up a few times to keep my dad off my back.

I can’t give up the drug until I get out of school. I have to be good enough. I’m already behind, if I fall back anymore, I don’t know what would happen.

Shit, we get our semester grades today. New classes too. It’s crazy how I felt like I’ve been asleep for years, but it’s only been a few days.

I took a deep inhale of the powder waiting for it to work its magic. Just give me enough strength to finish this year. It’s all I need, I promise. Just make me good enough, for a little bit longer. Not that I am to begin with.

I took a seat in my fourth period class, World Events. It was the only class I took for leisure.

I was happy about this class until the skinny kid from the bathroom came in with his head towards the ground right behind another boy. They both sat together along with a short, brown haired girl.

From the corner, I looked at him as he tried to force himself to shrink. Not like he wasn’t already disappearing from existence.

The teacher took attendance, naming the skinny boy Skyler the other boy Laine and the short girl Amanda.

Then I suddenly realized it. Skyler was that fat kid from my Chemistry class back in sophomore year. How the hell did he get that skinny? Not saying it’s bad, but wow. Maybe he really does do drugs. Maybe he wanted to lose the weight so that’s what he did.

I used speed for the insomnia effects so that I could study all night, keep my grades up.

Jesus, why do I keep thinking about this and that kid?

“Welcome to World Events,” the teacher said before handing out a classroom rules sheet. “Now, the first thing I’m going to do is put you guys in groups or four. You may choose your own groups, but remember that you will be in these groups for the rest of the semester.”

I hate group work. With a bloody, burning, fiery passion. No one ever does anything right and I end up getting a bad grade. Besides that, I won’t have anyone to group up with in this class. So I just sat back in the corner and allowed the teacher to place me in a group.

“Hey, you, we need a fourth,” the short brunette said to me. That kind of shocked me. I was sure that Skyler kid would’ve been against it. But who knows.

Perhaps he was too shy to say otherwise. Either way, I shrugged and moved my seat over to where they were.

“The point of these groups is to research and develop reports of the weekly world event that I’ve chosen. Whichever group delivers the best report on Friday will get a point. At the end of the year, the group with the most points will get a pizza party.”

I kind of just got a trip back to the fifth grade at that. Not that a pizza party didn’t sound nice but I just needed to do well.

As soon as she gave us our first topic, our group immediately started talking. “Okay, who are the writers?” Amanda asked.

“I can write it,” I volunteered for the whole thing.

“Have to divide the work evenly. So, two writers, a designer and the editor, I can do the graphic design. You know, pictures, font, etcetera.”

“I can… write it too I suppose,” Skyler said with his whisper of a voice.

“My grammar Nazi-ness is on it then!” Laine cheered.

All I can hope for is that that kid knows how to write.