Simone

It’s June and school is so close to being over: June 23, I am free.

My peers have taken to wearing flip flops to school. This is both disgusting and sad, but also exciting, because it means we are all well aware of how little time we have left, and thus have stopped caring about adhering to social norms.

My grades are, for the most part, finalized. They aren’t amazing, but they’re enough and so I will accept them.

But there’s my chemistry grade. A 70.65 or maybe 70.62, or maybe lower, because I haven’t checked the Skyward app in about a week. A final grade, existing on a threshold, weakened with each passing day. Worksheets due weeks ago pile in my folder, myself unwilling to scratch the answers down. I cannot explain this phenomenon. I’m fearful of having a D as a final grade, yes, very fearful, but I also don’t want to open my backpack on the weekend or after school or anytime really. The work doesn’t get done, and I’m not sure it ever will. And all this, even before I have to contend with the final exam, a cumulative, anxiety-inducing, high-stakes fun fest coming up in about a week.

I have this plan I devise in my head every night, before I lay to rest. I set an alarm for 6 AM and decide that from 6 AM to 7 AM I will do whatever chemistry work I need to show my teacher. Every morning, I silence or snooze said alarm, oversleep, and show up late to my first period class: chemistry. ♦