Summer Forever

17.

My midterm results were released the next day.

It had barely been over two weeks, and yet it felt like it had been an eternity since I took my midterm exams. It had gone past in a blur of anxious days until I woke up to the blinking notification that stuck a lump into my throat—a manifestation of all my anxieties rolled into an immovable ball.

I sat on my bed, my laptop tilting on the mattress in front of me, cursor hovering over the link to my grades for the exam I'd been most worried about; the biomolecular subject I had with Lachie.

My pulse quickened but I sucked in a deep breath. I'd worked hard for this exam. I studied every day. Even when Everett showed up, ready to spend every waking minute together, I still studied. I put my all into this.

It would be fine.

No, it would be more than fine. It would be good. I'd get an amazing score, and I wouldn't have to worry about my last assignment and final exam. My hard work would pay off. The rest of the semester would be a breeze.

It was going to be great.

Breathing out, I clicked onto the link, watching the link turn purple, waiting as the page loaded.

Waiting.

Waiting.

My eyes fell straight to the numbers, flashing on my screen in bright red. Bright red that blurred suddenly as my eyes began to water. I blinked hard, re-reading the screen. The numbers that were impossible to misinterpret.

Forty-five.

Forty-five out of one hundred.

I hadn't even passed. I hadn't even scraped a pass. No. I failed.

I froze, staring at the screen. This had to be some sort of joke. This had to be a prank, or a mistake. They must have switched my paper with someone else's. They must have misread my name. I must have typed my student number in wrong. It was impossible.

I'd spent hours studying—days. I wasted my nights hunched over my laptop, the screen straining my eyes. I spent calls with Everett, my eyes glued to my notebooks. His entire visit here, I spent most of it flicking through my lab manual. And for what? Failure? I'd never failed an exam in my life, and yet here I was, the bright red forty-five laughing at me from my laptop screen.

I didn't realise when I started crying, but by the time the screen flickered into blackness, my cheeks were already wet, salty tears dripping over my chin and onto the keyboard. I huffed, slamming the laptop shut and moving it to my bedside table, grabbing my phone instead.

It was like the room was spinning around me. Nothing made sense. How could this be possible? After all that? I had been so confident that I was prepared, and I couldn't even scrape a pass?

Now—now, my report due next week was vital. My final exam—I had to pass it. No, I had to do well in it to make up for the lost marks.

My mind was whirring, already calculating how many more marks I'd need for an overall pass. It was too many.

I needed Everett.

My phone was ringing before I could even wipe my tears away. It didn't matter, though, because it rang, and rang, and rang, and he never answered.

My eyes flickered to the time, and I realised it was two in the morning in New York. I laughed, the bitter sound coming out harsh between my sobs.

Instead, I shot him a text, apologising for calling him so late, asking him to call me when he woke up. Maybe it'd worry him. Maybe I wanted him to worry so that he'd call me sooner.