Almost There

- 17 -

Tess hadn't been able to focus all day, but now, Isaac was far from her mind. Instead, the fear of her coming interaction with Ms. Keene was making her feel sick. She glanced around, hoping to see some sign that she wasn't alone in her torment, but of course there was no way to tell whether anyone else had been asked to stay back, too.

She was distracted throughout the entire class period. Anxiety about the coming conversation with her teacher gave her a stomach ache and stole any attention she may have had. When the bell finally rang, Tess felt it through her body like an electric shock.

The classroom emptied. Tess lingered at her desk, pretending to be organizing her backpack. When the last of her classmates had gone, she looked over her shoulder at Ms. Keene. The teacher appeared to be waiting for her; she was leaning against her desk, her arms crossed, but she was smiling.

"Do you take the bus, Tess?" she asked.

Tess shook her head. "My mom or my dad will be here to pick me up soon."

"All right. This will just take a minute. Let me get the door."

Tess sat back down at her desk. A closed-door conference with her new English teacher: this couldn't be a good sign. She looked down at the rough draft Ms. Keene had handed back to her and that ominous note in red ink. Tess: Please see me after class.

She couldn't be failing English, could she? It was only the start of the second week of school—but maybe Tess was capable of failing faster than any other student in human history.

Ms. Keene returned after shutting the door to the class room and sat in the desk next to Tess's. "You've got a lot on your plate, don't you, hon?"

Tess laid her paper on her desk. "This isn't my best, but I'll do better," she said.

"Forget the proposal for just a sec. It isn't the worst work I've seen. But I know you're a new student, and I hope you don't mind that I took a stroll down to Mrs. McMillan's office—" Mrs. McMillan was the guidance counselor— "and had a chat with her about you. No offense, Miss Morrison, but you don't strike me as the sort of student who would willingly take two English classes back-to-back, and you don't strike me as a person to whom such coursework comes easily, either. Am I wrong?"

Tess blushed and lowered her gaze.

"Thought so. Don't be embarrassed, Tess. Mrs. McMillan was forthcoming with the details of your schedule and what's at stake this year for you. I wouldn't meet like this with just any student. There are a lot of kids who just don't care if they pass English. But I don't think you're one of them. I think you want to graduate. Mrs. McMillan didn't share any details with me and frankly it's none of my business, but it sounds like last year was rough for you and you're doing your damnedest—oops, sorry—to make up for it this year."

Despite herself, Tess's lips quirked up at the corner. "Yeah. I am."

"And it's rough."

Letting her breath out in a sigh, Tess looked back up at Ms. Keene. In the woman's eyes, she saw sympathy and true kindness. "It is. It's just...it's just a lot."

"I've been there. I'm going to tell you something now that won't be fun to hear, and I'm going to make a request of you that I hope you will seriously consider."

Tess swallowed. She nodded her head. "Okay?"

"The rough draft you turned in is not good; it was rushed, and it was sloppy. If you had turned it in as a final draft, I would have to fail you. I'm hoping you'll take some of my advice and apply it. With the time that you have and your course load, I think you can bring it up to a C. But I get the sense from your glazed-over expression in Lit that, despite your best efforts, you're not much of a literature student either, and I'm afraid there are some reports coming up that will throw you for a loop, hon."