Nestled in the Chicago suburbs rested the small, one school town of LaginaWood. A sleepy little city where teenagers drink, date, party, and hopefully study. Where citizens hail the Cubs without much reason, high school football is practically a rel...
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Raiden
"I don't understand, Missus Smitski," I repeated, trying my best to stay polite. Just a few smiles and I knew my counselor would change my schedule and my senior year would be back on track. "I already took Precalc."
"No, Raiden, you don't understand. You weren't found ready to move up to Calculus."
I frowned. "I got an A-plus!"
"You got an A-minus," she corrected. "But this isn't about grades, it's about you."
"What the hell does that mean?" I faltered. "I mean, please revisit. Surely there's been a mistake?"
Mrs. Smitski raised her eyebrow in warning, but showed only the amused disapproval I was used to from teachers, like I was a rambunctious toddler. "Language Mister Bedagi."
"So sorry, ma'am." Another smile and she'd forgotten my minor offense.
"Your teacher thought you were too unmotivated for Calculus," she explained. "You can't just get by without doing the homework anymore. The class is significantly more difficult and Mister Pollsen doesn't think you'll be able to float by."
"I don't think my father will be very happy about this," I warned.
"He already knows, Mister Bedagi. And while he wasn't pleased, he seconded Mister Pollsen's thoughts concerning your work ethic."
Shit. One more try. I frowned, meeting her gaze. "Missus Smitski, surely you can't expect me to retake a class I already passed?"
"You aren't. You're taking Honors Precalc. Mostly the same info, but it goes much faster and more in depth."
"There's nothing you can do?"
"Sorry, Raiden. Maybe if you put as much effort into your studies as you do in football."
I stood, shoving my chair across the tile floor. "Whatever."
Smitski glanced once more at her laptop. "Oh, and Mister Bedagi--"
But I'd already slammed the door. After wasting thirty minutes of commons, I wasn't going to lose the last fifteen to an old woman who wasn't going to do me any favors. I had better things to do, people to talk to. And now, excuses to plan for when I came home to Dad. No doubt he'd be pissed. I wondered if he'd even let me out of the house to go to Dion's party.
Dion was a senior who threw a first day of school rager every year. As a freshman it had been small, but it grew into what was sure to be the wildest bash L-Wood had ever seen. No chance I'd let Dad make me miss it. Maybe I just wouldn't go home... Dad couldn't make me stay if I never arrived.
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"Hey, Raiden," greeted Mr. Pollsen as I strutted into the same exact classroom as last year. "Long time no see. Ready to really buckle down this year?"
