Stay

13

"Thank you sir," I smile, my nerves dispersing slightly.

"However," he begins once more, his low voice stern. My heart drops, "I've been keeping an eye on your last few tests and I'm worried about you. The last few tests you've scored well under sixty percent - not even close to what you normally produce. Are you having trouble with the material?"

"Nothing I can't handle," I say.

"Miss. Jones, it's perfectly normal to have difficulty in this class. Some of the formulas can be rather confusing if you're not used to them. However, judging by your previous test scores from high school and last semester's Statistics class that you took, I would have expected higher performance. I don't seem to be seeing that and it concerns me," he says carefully, as he brings his glasses off of his nose, holding it carelessly in his hand.

"I promise you, sir, that I am more than capable of handling this class. Sure some of the formulas have been a bit difficult, but I will try harder."

"Yes, but you're an English major. It's not essential for you to be taking this class. Perhaps it would be best if you dropped this course, take a lighter load and focus more on your English classes. You don't need this class, I can assure you that..."

"No," I interrupt, "I can handle this. I promise you sir that I will be able to do better. Thank you for your concern..."

"What I'm trying to say, is that you're failing, Miss. Jones."

At those simple words my whole heart drops. Failing... I was failing. I never failed. I was not a failure. This couldn't be right.

"Pardon me?"

"The past few tests you've been getting fifty at best, but your papers have done nothing to boost your marks. You're a bright student, but this is only damaging your GPA. I talked to your counsellor and we both agree that it would be best if you dropped this class before it fully damages your overall marks."

"But, I can do better..."

"I'm sorry, Miss. Jones, but that is final. Please go talk to your counsellor when you have the chance and sort this all through. I want you to do well and succeed in your chosen profession. A statistics class will not benefit you, which I can assure you. Take a class that will."

"Thank you," I rush out of the room, ignoring the groups of students, and head straight towards my car.

-

Gummy bears, chocolate chip ice cream, cookie dough, pepperoni pizza and a side order of honey garlic wings cover my living room floor. I stare at the damage, silently going over which one I would eat first.

"Fuck it," I reach for the cookie dough and take a massive chunk, stuffing it into my mouth. The rich goodness coats my mouth, my tongue salivating at its sweet taste.

There's a knock at the front door, distracting me from finishing up the rest of the tube of dough. I ignore the consistent knocking, hoping that whoever they were they'd get the hint and carry on. Unfortunately, whoever they were are stupid and are incapable of getting a hint.

"Sorry, Evie can't come to the door right now... leave a message and get back to me later!" I shout through the thick frame, hoping... praying... that they'd leave.

"It's Niall."

Groaning, I through the leftover tube back into the pile of food. Not bothering to check my mirror, even though I was sure I looked like a character from the Walking Dead, I walk over. Opening the door, I see Niall on the other side, with a cheesy smile plastered on his lips. "You're rather peachy this evening," he says.