As the exam period approached, the seating arrangement was shuffled, and students had to move their books and bags to the hallway. Teachers stood vigil at both ends of the room, ensuring silence. Joey had spent an entire week preparing for the exams, yet when the papers were handed out, she felt like crying.

Joey had always known that the standards at Lin Springs Junior High were different from those back home, but the gap seemed insurmountable. She wracked her brains trying to solve the problems, each one a herculean task.

After completing two morning exams, Joey headed to the restroom and overheard her classmates talking about her. They were speculating about her performance, as she'd been exempt from her entrance exam—a privilege that came with its expectations. Whether or not she was truly up to par would now be revealed.

Joey found humor in their words; she appropriated their expression for her essay, proving she could find amusement despite the stress.

Over two gruelling days, she tagged along with Ben on the way home, perplexed by one thing: “Why haven't I heard your usual alarm these days?”

Ben stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. Joey felt that his glare could pierce through her soul, leaving her feeling smaller. She meekly inferred, “You're the study genius, conserving energy for exams—I get it, I get it.”

Ben’s look was nothing short of murderous. Joey had no clue what she'd done to stir his ire, so she took a step back.

His gaze shifted sharply, and he delivered a deadly retort, “Failing your exams means a parent-teacher meeting. With Isabella unavailable, you're on your own.”

Joey was struck speechless.

How did he know she'd fail?

To her dismay, Ben’s words became a prophecy when she received her results: she barely passed Chinese and Math, while the rest glimmered with the ominous red of failure.

She cried her way home, using her school uniform's sleeves to wipe her tears. Her late-night studying seemed to be in vain, and the looming parent-teacher meeting filled her with dread.

Perhaps moved by her tears, Ben sneered, “Why don't you ask Professor James for help?”

Through her sobs, Joey gasped, “Uncle James... he... doesn't... like... me...”

Ben snorted, “Then just skip it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Joey countered defiantly.

Ben, left speechless by her retort, left Joey to navigate the long, windy road home alone. With the cold wind biting her face, she let out a loud sneeze, which cleared her mind.

On the day of the parent-teacher meeting, Joey stayed tucked under her blankets, refusing to budge.

Aunt Mary knocked, concerned at Joey's absence from breakfast. Joey's voice was heavy with a fake cold, “I feel light-headed.”

Aunt Mary, worried by the recent weather fluctuations, opened the door to find Joey looking flushed and sickly.

“I think I need to call in sick today,” Joey said with tearing eyes.

Aunt Mary, unconcerned about school, quickly agreed, “Alright, alright, you rest up while I get the thermometer.”

“No!” Joey protested. “No need, I’ll be fine after some sleep...”

Why did city folk always have thermometers handy? 

Aunt Mary assumed it was just childishness, but five minutes later, after checking the readings, she found them normal. She looked at Joey, who was now burrowed under the covers, mortified.

Within another ten minutes, Aunt Mary had her standing in front of Professor James.

He sat watching the morning news, turning the volume down to hear Aunt Mary out as she led Joey to him.

“Go on,” Aunt Mary pushed Joey a step forward.

Caught in the imposing presence of Professor James, Joey clutched her seven exam papers, trembling as she stepped forward.

“Tell Professor James what you need,” Aunt Mary urged.

Tears welled in her eyes, and Joey wavered, “I... I failed my exams...”

“And?” Aunt Mary prodded.

Finally, crying out, Joey blurted, “I need you to come as my guardian to the meeting!”

Silence stretched as the broadcaster's voice droned on about the news, magnifying the stillness and making Joey's legs quake. Surely, they'd like her even less now, given her abysmal grades. Aunt Mary squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

James remained composed, leaning forward as he took the stack of tests from her hands, perusing them, notably dismayed by her English scores. Finally, he asked, “Parent-teacher meeting?”

Joey, shoulders shaking, replied, “They demand a guardian when you fail.”

She couldn't bring herself to add "for a mutual dressing down."

James nodded, setting the papers down, “Alright, grab your backpack while I prepare to accompany you.”

Not believing this was resolved so easily, Joey glanced at Aunt Mary, who urged, “Don't just stand there, go get ready.”

Once jogged into action, Joey hurried upstairs, grabbing her things and waiting by the door for James to arrive. As the wait lengthened, she worried about a last-minute change of heart. Yet when he arrived, she noticed something else amiss.

James was impeccably dressed in a deep brown suit, shoes polished to shine, hair slicked back with a neat sheen—dressed to impress. Though she'd seen him in business attire before, this seemed extravagant, and during the ride to school, his finger tapped leisurely on his knee, exuding a relaxed air.

Upon arrival, James walked beside her, warmly greeting various parents, leaving many with puzzled looks questioning his identity.

Joey sighed internally. 

During the meeting, only three students had failed, Joey amongst them, alongside a couple of frequent sleeper types. Though the best-behaved out of the trio, Joey endured the public critique from each of her class's subject teachers. This humiliation compounded as every teacher choked at admonishing Professor James, who offered to facilitate their feedback.

“Please, speak freely,” James urged them.

The teachers exchanged nervous glances, forcing smiles.

None had anticipated this from Boston's top political analyst. Criticizing him? Utterly debilitating.

Joey glanced to James, who received critique gracefully. Even the chemistry teacher, admittedly flustered, suggested enhancing Joey's foundation, which James readily acknowledged.

By meeting's end, the teacher wiped their brow, visibly relieved to conclude.

Back home, James, invigorated, inquired if Joey was interested in extra classes.

Joey hesitated, bewildered.

Her dose of reality came from Aunt Mary, while brushing her hair the next morning, explaining that James had never attended a meeting as a parent, a rarity unlikely to recur with polished graduate Alex.

“Unlike Alex, some children demand more involvement,” Aunt Mary chuckled.

Joey pitied Professor James a little in understanding.

After breakfast, she found James seated solemnly at the dining table, unsettling her as she sat down quietly, hoping to avoid making noise.

Noticing her arrival, he paused his meal, directing a stern look.

Consumed by her own anxiety, Joey avoided eye contact.

“Which should you join—math or science?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?” Joey responded, startled.

“Didn’t we discuss enrolling you in extra tutoring yesterday?” James frowned at her lack of initiative. “I reached out to local parents, and Boston has two top programs. The choice is yours.”

Joey had assumed James was merely being polite.

He mused, “The science program's excellence contrasts the math one’s analytic prowess. Perhaps enrolling in both is best, ensuring each holiday supplements your schooling.”

Seeing Joey's shock, James candidly checked, “You’re not opposed?”

Quickly, Joey shook her head.

James seemed reassured, contented, “Children, after all, aren’t expected to be flawless.”

Joey was left speechless, mulling over this perspective of Professor James.

---

This creative adaptation showcases cultural and linguistic elements adjusted to suit a more Western-style narrative while retaining the core content and theme of the original Chinese novel fragment.