By Josie Barker
Note: this story takes place during the end of Haley Kim’s last semester of Junior year, and is completely fictional. Ms. Kim would never EVER get a bad grade on an English assignment.
Tucked into her full-sized bed, exhausted from hours of analyzing mountains of APUSH homework, distraught from sifting through an enormous 6 foot tall SAT textbook, Haley Kim shuts her eyes, relieved for the last day of school. Junior year, known as every high school student’s most rigorous academic year—or in other words, pure hell—was finally coming to an end. Dreaming about an intense ab work out earlier that day, Haley snuggles under a sage-colored weighted blanket, sandwiched between two Kimi Antonelli body pillows. Drifting off to sleep, little miss Kim fantasizes about summer plans, manifesting beach-centered hang outs with her friends without the worry of an assignment due at eleven that very same night.
Startled awake in the morning by her irritatingseven o’clockalarm, Haley slowly rises from her covers, arms extending straight to the sky while she releases a performative yawn. Fortunately, there was no need to hit the ginormous orange snooze button on her device’s screen because finally, she had taken the initiative to grant herself 8 deserved hours of sleep rather than the normal 5 after a usual long winded homework session. Selecting “Stop” on her phone’s illuminated face, Haley glides to the bathroom to brush her teeth, thankful for the end of junior year, and most importantly, thankful for the first day this year where she’ll worry about what to eat for breakfast rather than another grim test in Physics.
At school she breezes through her classes and makes her way to room 26 for sixth period.
Haley, belly full of love, and eyes full of sparkle, dances her way into Chris Haskett’s classroom, blissfully unaware of the nightmare approaching. Approaching a vacant desk surrounded by her quality pals, Haley collapses down onto an empty gray rubber seat, showing off her lovely smile that stretches from ear to ear. Realizing that her buddies’ faces aren’t reciprocating, Haley morphs her face into a frown. Naomi Volinsky, with an eyebrow raised and a distasteful expression painted across her face, sneers at Haley, asking for the reason behind her unexpected enthusiasm. Haley, confused by the reaction, reasons that Naomi’s “charm” is due to the fact that it is the last day of school. “Haven’t you checked your grade?” remarks Naomi. A voice behind blurts out to the covenant of distressed teenage girls, “I can’t believe I’m ending the year with a B. My parents will annihilate me.” Naomi grunts, “Yeah, I mean I guess I can’t be too unhappy with a ninety.” Haley, now overcome with fear, rushes to open her chromebook, panicked to see the letter that will be left on her final report card. Flipping through the plethora of open tabs, Haley notices a big fat F glaring at her from the bottom of her Canvas grades.
Labeled CEJ #67, the slot usually marked with a 100%, reflects back with a zero. How could this be? The student who had never fallen below a 94% now faced the worst possible grade? Quite frankly, it just didn’t make sense. Haley, puzzled, attempts to recall her recent, previous after-school activities. How could she have dodged an assignment?
Sweat condensing on her forehead, Haley’s blood runs cold. She forgot to do the CEJ. With all the pressure of the last week of school, Haley spent her hours studying for AP tests, forgetting Hasket’s side quest to turn in an informative article. As a wave of distress and nausea flows through Haley’s body, she opens Aeries, waiting in anticipation to see her final grade. Blood running cold, Haley slams her computer’s lid shut, and leaves junior year, with the permanent imprint of a D, left in her brain.