Only the Good Die Young

Chapter 3.3

He studies my transcript. "Your phys.ed mark from Riverbend High in Toronto before you left was forty-nine point five."

"Right," I say, slowly. "But they rounded it up to fifty, so I passed." I was never good in gym. Don't get me wrong, though: I wasn't one of those hotties who failed because they couldn't be bothered to run. Let's just say I'm not very athletic.

"Forty-nine point nine is considered a fail here." He sets the transcript down on his desk

No, this doesn't sound good at all.

My skin flushes. I curse my complexion for betraying my embarrassment and wish I was brunette like Alex. "I was told it would be rounded to fifty."

"Yes, but Queen Elizabeth doesn't round marks." He rests his hand on the toy football but doesn't pick it up.

I can't believe this. "But you can't fail me on my first day of school!"

"I'm sorry, Rebecca. It's school policy."

"But I've never failed anything! And it's only gym!"

Mr. Downs clasps his fingers together and rests his hands on his desk. "There's nothing I can do, I'm afraid. I don't think your mother can help you, if that's what you're thinking. Principal Morgan doesn't make exceptions for anyone."

Mom would never do something like that for me. It would be a waste of breath to even try.

I go over last semester with lightning speed: Social, Physics, Chem, two spares, and Phys. Ed., because Home Ec. was full. Without the five credits from gym, I'd only have –

Mr. Downs's voice cut me off. "I'm afraid you will only have ninety-five credits. You need five more to graduate in June." He wipes away the screensaver on the computer with his mouse. My heart thuds in my chest.

"But I have a full course load," I say. "I don't have room for anything else." Mom advised me against taking two spares, but I wanted extra time to review chemistry. Okay, I admit it, I spent it in the cafeteria talking about guys, makeup, clothes, what it would be like to have sex for the first time, the usual girl stuff. But that's more important anyway.

This isn't happening. I should have listened to Mom.

He types something into his computer, and a list of horizontal boxes with various class names appears. "You'll have to take something after school to make up the five credits, otherwise you'll have to take a class during the summer."

Summer school? My mind is melting. I don't want to even be here and now I can't leave in July?

"What's available?" I say, my mouth dry. Please, God, let there be something I can take. Why didn't Mom catch this? She was probably too busy with everything else going on.

I watch his eyes scan the computer. "You could try out for one of the school teams. Hmm, no, they're all full. You could join the yearbook committee. Wait, that's full, too. There's an opening in the computer club. It says here that they're working on an artificial intelligence program and you have to know something called C++. I think that's a programming language."

"I can surf the internet," I say, weakly. Well, I could before my life went to hell and we moved.

"What about the running club?" he says, clicking his mouse.

It would help me lose my butt. Or, wait, it might make it worse. Do runners have big butts?

He keeps reading. "You'll have to be able to run an eight-minute mile by the end of term."

That's never going to happen. "I can shop," I say, forcing myself to appear cheerful. "Is there a shopping club?"

"Oh," he says. "Wait, there are two more. There's a spot open on the Junior Girls Field Hockey team. One of the girls quit last term when she took a ball to the face and lost a tooth. And the Yellow Jackets have their open audition at the end of the week. I'm afraid that's all there is."