As the end of the school year approaches, my worry and anxiety increases. CRCTs are nearing as is my final grade. Will I pass? Will I fail? Will I have to repeat sixth grade again? The never-ending lists of questions replay through my mind, over and over. Will I pass? Will I fail?

“BRRRAAANNNGGGG….” The loud bell rings through the hallways ricocheting of walls and into the ears of students. Teachers say their final goodbyes and wish the best of hope, if only they knew. Kids rush into the crowded hallways, bodies smashing, pushing, and shoving. Screams of anger resounds, teacher’s calls follow the moving sea of bodies down the hallway. None yield to the teachers angry voices, we push forward faster, angrier, more anxiously. We reach our destination, the front steps of Irwin County Middle and High School. We push and shove through the doors, freedom.

No worries enter the minds of the countless students as the endless chatter begins.

“Do you know who asked Hannah to the dance?”

“Oh my gosh, the Valentines Dance is in a week?”

You giggle and laugh hysterically at every meaningless thing your friend’s say, no matter if it is funny or not. You see the principal approaching your group of twenty plus friends and you all immediately scatter and you and one of your best friends, Angel, run to the bus screaming and attract the attention of Casey, your friends crush. You reach the bus pushing and shoving trying to get on first. You laugh loudly and settle in your seat, a hush falls over the bus and your worries return.

The report card is sent home in a week and you just got a Big Fat F on your last English paper. Is this going to be good enough? Is there any way to bring your average up in six days? I must have a seventy average in all my classes and an eighty average in my semester average. Is that possible? If I cannot pull this off my dreams are shattered, I will probably not be eligible for admission to University of Georgia for my two year college degree or my four plus years at a full polytechnic or engineering college.
*****
6 Days Later
*****

“I got a ninety-five in Language. What’d you get?”
“I got a ninety-seven in Language. What’d you get in Math?”
“An eighty-three. What about you?”
Chatter begins, filling the classroom with noise. Your good mood disappears as you hear of the good grades of others, making yours seem even more inadequate. You hear the bell ring signaling the end of last block. You grab your books, fold your report card and shuffle through the door. You rush to your locker while talking with your friend LiLi. You file into a line generally four or five people wide. You push your way through the crowd towards the bus ramp and try to find Angel. You quickly spot her talking to her other crush, Drake, the cute eighth grader. You grab her arm and one of Daniels and propel them to the bus.
“Little-bit, what’re you doing?” Drake questions, dumbfounded.
“Nikki, do you like have a problem that was like totally rude,” Angel, states.
“I am ready to get home, Drake. And Shelbie, I never claimed to be nice.”

Drake gestures for me to get on first and then follows, leaving Angel trailing behind. I find a seat four from the back and sit down and turn towards the window. The seat sinks from the weight of a person, signaling a new addition to the seat, Angel. I turn towards Angel, to find it is in fact not Angel, but Drake.

“Hey….”

“Did not expect to see me sitting here, huh?”

“Definitely did not. So, what’s up?”

“It seemed like you were upset and I got tired of Angels constant flirting, so I stole her seat and made her have to sit in the front,” He replies, with a sly grin.

“Aaahh, good choice, Drake, you chose me over Angel. But I though you liked Angel?”

“Psst, you actually thought that? So clueless, lil-bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nikki, I have liked you since the beginning of the year. You’re not the same person you used to be and you’re finally standing up to Angel. You’ve got spunk, but don’t worry I like a girl with spunk.”

“Seriously, Drake? I like you, too. So does Angel, that’s the reason I haven’t said anything about it.”

“Angel, can kiss country boys butt and not in the way she wants too.”

“Don’t worry; she’d have to go through me first.”

Drakes warm arm snakes around your shoulder, flooding your body with warmth. You lean up against him and close your eyes.

“Why were you upset in the first place?”

“I got my repost card.”

“So you got bad grades or something.

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked yet. I’m afraid to.”

“Mind if I look?”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

You hear the crinkles of a paper being unfolded and the gasp of surprise.

“How bad did I do?”

“Babe, you didn’t do badly at all. Your lowest was a eighty-nine. Why were you so afraid?”

“Gifted. I didn’t want to get kicked out.”

“You’re not going to your too smart.”

A bad day has gone good. The worries of your report card are erased by a new friendship/relationship. Report cards fill you full of anxiety and the questions never leave. Will I pass? Will I fail? Will I have to repeat sixth grade again? Will I pass? Will I fail? Will I have to repeat sixth grade again? Will I pass? Will I fail? Will I have to repeat sixth grade again? Your over worried, and sometimes blatantly terrified. This is one of the few challenges of a student.