Paisley Higgs | (Sirius Black)

Chapter 4- Pity Party

I finished pouring the glass and put the juice away, careful to avoid eye contact with my parents as I sat back down at the table.

"Mail?" I replied oh so casually.

Dad pulled a letter out from under his newspaper.

Yikes. This was it.

Matty hadn't heard from me and now he was enlisting the cavalry. I really should have expected a shady move like this. Crafty Matty strikes again.

But the worst part was, I was actually planning to write him back that afternoon. I mean, it was going to be something embarrassingly short and along the lines of "Sorry I suck," but something was better than nothing... right?

I took a rather large bite of my burrito to avoid having to say anything else.

"It's from Ilvermorny," Dad said, frowning deeply.

Uh oh.

"Your final grades have come in."

Double uh oh.

"I have to say I expected more out of you, Paisley," he said, shaking his weary head as he handed the letter to my unwilling hands.

Sirens were going off in my mind, heart beat quickening.

I swallowed hard and looked at the parchment.

And y'all, it was BAD.

My throat was tight, fingers all numb and tingly, heart pounding a mile a minute, and blood rushed in my ears making it difficult to actually hear the speech my dad had begun about my atrocious grades. I knew I bombed my final exams...I knew the second the pitiful parchments left my desk. But to see the horrific grades all so neatly outlined on the schools letterhead was borderline unbearable.

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Troll
Charms: Dreadful
Transfiguration: Poor
Herbology: Poor
Potions: Dreadful
History of Magic: Acceptable
Astronomy: Troll
Care of Magical Creatures: Dreadful
Divination: Troll

Once again, my status as the designated disappointment of the Higgs clan was made oh so very clear. So many Trolls... The only silver lining was that I'd actually passed History of Magic, my favorite class.

Go me.

"—you need to take this more seriously! You'll never become a qualified witch if you don't start applying yourself! This is your future that's on the line, Paisley! You know the only reason Clementine is where she is today is because she applied herself during school—"

Oh boy.

Clemy.

I'd been triggered.

My last strand of sanity snapped like a overstretched rubber band at the mention of my ever so lovely big sister. Words, hot, angry, and acidic from years of pent up frustration and comparison, and fresh disappointment spilled out of my mouth and over my father's own heated words, assaulting the quaint breakfast nook.

"Well I'm sorry I'm not as perfect as her! I'm sorry you ended up with such a dud of a daughter the second time around, I really am—"

Mom dropped her burrito dramatically. "Paisley! Don't say things like that!"

"It's true though! We all know it!" I said, crumpling the grade sheet and throwing it on to the table near a bowl of grits. "Clemy's perfect and smart and successful and—and I'm just—I'm just the stupid sister! The big mistake!"

"Now, that's enough!" Dad said loudly, the scary Auror vibes coming on strong. I shrank in my seat. "Enough of your little pity party— enough excuses! You are going to fix this grades situation before you go to Hogwarts, do you understand?"

Nope. Not at all.

Per usual.

"What do you expect me to do?! In case you didn't notice, it's summer! And I'm in a completely different country!" All because of you and your stupid job...

Dad reined in his emotions far better than I ever could and ran a hand through his brown hair, graying on the sides—having a dramatic teenage daughter was really aging him. "The British have a different system for examinations. Usually in a situation like yours—with transfers, that is—your fifth year final exam grades would count as your O.W.L.s—"

"—my what?"

"—but I've arranged for you to re-take the exams at the end of the summer—"

"What?!"

"—Well, you'd be taking the British version of your exams— but it's essentially the same—"

"And what if I don't?! What if I don't want to take a bunch of stupid tests again?!"

Dad frowned and looked to Mom...

My heart fell into my burrito filled stomach.

The 'what if' must have been pretty bad.

They always left it to her to break the bad news. Like when my dog, Boudreaux, died when I was eight (coyote attack), or when Matty and his parents got in that really bad car accident when we were twelve, or when I found out we'd be moving here...

Mom tucked her copper hair behind her ears then leaned towards me, taking my sweaty troll hands in hers. "Sweetheart, if you don't re-take the exams... if you don't pass them... you'll... well..." —she took a breath— "they'll have to set you back a year..."

I blinked slowly.

Processing.

Set me back a year?

"I— I'd have to repeat my fifth year...?" I said as tears welled in my eyes. I don't even know if I was sad or angry. I just felt. Something. Something strong. Painful.

The kitchen was getting blurry but I knew mom was giving me a look of pity that made the pain even worse... "It's not ideal... obviously... but it would ultimately be in your best interest—"

Her words brought me back to life.

My best interest was to be held back like I was a genuine idiot.

"THIS IS SO STUPID!" I ripped my hands out of hers before she could finish her sentence, eyes stinging with tears, voice cracking. "If I flunked them all the first time, how the Sam Hill do you expect me to pass them this go around?!"

They obviously weren't all that delighted by my vicious tone, but they seemed entirely expectant that I would say something along those lines.

Dad's face was stern and lacking the warmth that i was accustomed to seeing when he was at home. "We've arranged for you to have a tutor."

My head whipped toward mom. "A tutor?"

I could see her hands inching towards mine and the apology in her eyes.

"Who?!"

I think part of me, a bigger part of me than I would admit to, hoped that she would say Matty.

Matty was smart.

Really smart.

And even though I'd been the worst best friend and ignoring him for three weeks... I missed him so much it physically hurt.

And I knew he hated being stuck with his parents, even though he'd never admit it. They just didn't get him.

As much as I acted like I didn't want him there, I did.

But the name that came out of my mother's mouth was not Matty's.

Not even close.

Her blue eyes flicked to Dad then back to me. "James Potter."