Avery
My life had been turned upside down once, and honestly, I wasn't looking forward to see what the second time would bring me.
Today at approximately 10.13 in Bensworth University's Student Center Park, you probably saw a girl running after a man running after another man. While a dog-cat-mouse chase in Tom & Jerry looked funny, there was nothing even worth a smile about this one. She chased him because something belonged to her had been stolen, and he ran because he needed something from the other man. It was a quite serious matter that I almost called 911 only to get my essays back.
The girl was me, by the way.
It was all started from the French class I had yesterday. No, nothing interesting about the class. It was just that the new French teacher certainly overlooked one of her students' remembering skill.
"Mademoiselle Kane, can you read the first paragraph in page 34?"
I altered my gaze from the window to the French book in front of me. A page full of foreign words that we only got to learn for the third time this semester. The first meeting was discussing how to pronounce the alphabets, and the second was about learning the words and basic sentences. And now, third week, the new teacher wanted us to read a paragraph. A paragraph, as in four long sentences. It was almost thirty words more than we were learning for two weeks before.
"It seemed like you haven't been paying attention to what I've explained," she smiled wryly, with a little smirk after. "Let's see how serious you are in taking this class."
Ooh, punishment. Very scary. The reading thing wasn't supposed to be on the school curriculum, at least not until the sixth or seventh week, when we actually had understood every basic of the language. She probably was just testing us if we were as good as her old students in a private school in Kansas City—the ones that she proudly talked about every time someone couldn't answer her question.
And now, I was in that position. If I was anyone else in this class, I would just honestly answer 'No, I can't read it—are you kidding, Ma'am?'. I would say that I was just so damn lazy to read the words that weren't even my mother language. What did she expect from us in two weeks of learning a foreign language anyway?
But I wasn't anyone else, so I grabbed my book, stood up, and read it as requested.
For a minute, I could only hear my voice in the class. It was like everyone else was leaving the class as soon as Mrs. Turner asked me to read it. But no, they were here—with their eyes fixed on me, dropped jaws, bated breaths.
"Très bien, Mademoiselle!" Mrs. Turned put down her book to give a leading applause, in which the class reluctantly followed. "Though I only asked you to read one paragraph, not the whole page."
Scoffs and murmurs spread throughout the classroom. I didn't know that they were addressed to me until Danna, a girl who was also in my physics class, raised her hand and told Mrs. Turner to end the class because the learning material they were supposed to have today was already eaten by a greedy smartass. Not only that, she also shot a stare at me after saying that.
A greedy smartass? Was that what they had been calling me? I was totally offended. I wasn't even greedy, I just didn't realize that I read all of the paragraphs because it was fun speaking French. Okay, actually it was fun looking at their goofy reactions when I nailed those weird French pronunciations. And smartass? In what world did you call a straight A's student a smartass?
The students were rushing out as the bell rang, as if they were given a chance to get out of this hell for ten minutes before going back into another. Slipping my books into my bag, I was preparing myself for my all-time favorite math class after a lunch break.
Mrs. Turner stopped me on the way out. "Do you, by any chance, really speak French?" She asked while arranging her desk. "I'm not gonna lie, you did sound like a person who was born and raised in France."
"Sadly, no," I replied. "I only read what you gave us last week and the week before that."
"Are you sure? What I gave to the class wasn't really enough to have you speak that fluently."
"Well, maybe you should've given more before asking us to do something beyond our ability," I shrugged. "See? I'm drop dead serious, Madame. I hope that makes us better than KC."
Welcome to Bridgewald High, Mrs. Turner. I smiled as I walked past the door. This wasn't my first time leaving a teacher speechless. Mrs. Turner was only working here for three weeks, she had absolutely no idea about having me in her class.
When I was taking my math book out from my locker, I was informed by one of my French classmates that I was called to the principal's office. I glanced at the office, which was not that far from where I was standing. Mrs. Turner just got out of the room. Oh, really? Did she just file a complaint against me for outsmarting her in her own class?
Mrs. Dench, the principal, asked me to sit as soon after she allowed me to go in. Unlike most of the students, I was never afraid every time someone told me 'Hey, you get called by the Principal.' I could get called twice a month and there should be a new topic to discuss every meeting. It wasn't like I damaged a school property or got caught bringing prohibited items to school. It really wasn't because I did bad things at all.
Or maybe it was. This also wasn't my first time to be informed that I had been transferred to another class. In a harsher way, teachers had removed me from their classes for some ridiculous but obvious reason.
"So, Avery Kane..."
"If it's because what I said in French class, I didn't mean to."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "Sorry?"
Oh, she didn't know? I was overthinking it. Mrs. Turner wasn't coming here to talk about me after all. "No, I'm sorry. Now, what did you say?"
"I'm sure you already knew about the early admission program at Bensworth University," she started talking again. She entangled her hands and smiled. "I've been hearing from all the teachers here, including Mr. Connor, that you... are a perfect student. The new French teacher, Mrs. Turner, just told me the same thing."
She did talk about me! She seemed underestimating the whole class at first, but because I kind of saved them, she just became like the other teachers with their compliments. It really was getting old. I've heard that a lot from the teachers that I had to put my 'duh' face every time someone brought it up again.
"I saw your grades. It's incredible," she added. "You have IQ of 170. Straight A's since your freshman year. I'm amazed."
Of course she was. Duh.
"I'm recommending you to apply," she pointed out. "Truthfully, you are too good to be just a high schooler. You belong to a higher education."
The same thing over and over again, that I could remember her exact words the last time we discussed about this. She didn't care that the main reason I had such good grades was because I could fully remember what I read, saw, or even listened. Every quiz, every exam I had, even the reading I did at the French class three minutes ago just felt like I'd done it in the blink of an eye. The answers were all there, on my mind, perfectly pictured, and I just had to read it. The whole class didn't even give their best efforts because they knew the teacher would only mention one name as the A+ achiever: Avery Kane.
Not a problem for me. Even my name started with that letter.
"Mrs. Dench, with all due respect, you've been asking this since I set a foot in this school and I refused it. What makes you think I will agree it this time?" I asked, expecting the same old answer about the university, blah blah blah.
"It's Bensworth, one of the top universities in the country—" Ha! What did I tell you? She said the same thing about Yale and Stanford last year. It really did become an old and boring opening explanation about why we should choose this university as our next destination, didn't it? "—and it's only 40 minutes away, if that's what you're worried about..."
I had been to Bensworth once with my Mom when I was 12 to attend a book reading. Good campus, beautiful view, friendly people. It was a perfect place for me to continue my education, although I would obviously prefer Yale or Princeton or even the faraway Oxford over it. Dream high, my friend. But with my grades that Mrs. Dench just pointed, I was sure I could enter at least one of them.
"That's not the problem. I don't want to go to college. I want to graduate with my friends," I said, creating a sudden silence in the room.
Okay, 'friends' was an overstatement. I didn't really have any—except those who suddenly greeted me on my way to class, be overly nice to me, when just a day before they didn't even bat an eye. Then I realized that Mr. Connor gave a group assignment to make this physics project. The best group would have a chance to get an A and be exempted from taking the final exam.
I giggled over my own thought. There was still that kind of people in this world. People I reluctantly called 'friends' because they were actually only using me to get a free exam pass. I thought even Mrs. Dench knew I didn't have true friends. It was probably her real reason why she wanted me to take this.
"I understand, but this is your only chance," Mrs. Dench gave a meaningful smirk. "And did I say that they also offered a scholarship?"
Scholarship, the one thing I needed right now. My heart melted every time I heard that one word. I couldn't let my Mom, a single mother with two kids, worked so hard to fund our educations. If I got accepted and got the scholarship, it could really help her.
Mrs. Dench sensed an agreement in my reaction. She added, "I will personally write you a recommendation letter. It will be really useful."
Oh, my God, was she some kind of witch? I just got under her spell and nodded. "I'll take it," I finally said. "You were right, Mrs. Dench. I don't belong in high school."
The words were finally out. I guessed I was really tired of the high school drama—which I actually never took a part of—that I decided to take this. My brain and my classmates' weren't exactly on the same track. Sometimes, I even felt like I could do better than most of my teachers.
Looking deligthful, Mrs. Dench explained, "Okay. All you need to do is write two essays-one is about who you are, and another one is about why you want to get into Bensworth University. They must be handwritten, so write them as clear as you can. Then, pack the essays and the administration papers in a brown folder."
Ah, why was I not surprised. Bensworth was known for their uniqueness, as they always asked their future students to do handwritten essays. Well, it was either unique or half of the staffs were actually technophobe and old-fashioned.
"We will take care of your administration papers. You just need to worry about the essays and the interview tomorrow," continued Mrs. Dench while giving me a piece of paper, the application form.
I blinked. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes, you will go to Bensworth tomorrow for an interview," she repeated. "Is there something wrong?"
"Uh... Tomorrow is the deadline for the first draft of Mr. Connor's physics project..."
"It's a group assignment, isn't it?" She smiled. "I guess you can leave it to your friends."
Well, yes, I could, but leave it to Helen, Troy, and Jake? They were the 'friends' I was talking about. They didn't even give that much effort for this project—and I should leave it to them? I was the one who wrote the first draft and knew the project inside out—and I should leave it to them? They wanted me in their group just because they thought I could free us from all the exams—and I should leave the assignment to them?!
"Avery?" Mrs. Dench's soft voice pulled me back to the room. "If this is so hard for you, I can speak to Mr. Connor. I'm sure he will understand."
It wasn't about bailing on the class, it was about those three people. They would hate me forever if I didn't show up tomorrow. As for me, I was okay for not attending the class—like it would ruin my good grades whatsoever. But they... they would start spreading false rumor that I bailed on them on purpose and how selfish I was.
I could explain that it was me who did all the work, but who would they believe more—the popular kids or the greedy smartass?
"Ah, screw them!" I said, apparently loud enough for Mrs. Dench to hear.
"Excuse me?"
"No, nothing," I chuckled. "I will go to Bensworth, Ma'am."
And I meant it. I couldn't wait to get out of here. High school was a place filled with bunch of morons anyway. Need I say more?
-- Hope you enjoy the second chapter. I try to update as regularly as I can. The GIF above is Kiernan Shipka as Avery. Please vote and share if you like it! --