No matter how many times I blinked or adjusted the lighting—like it might somehow make the grade look better—it didn’t change.

I studied. I swear I did. I even skipped the game review Chris sent me, the one he has been asking me to watch for three days now.

I actually tried this time.

But it was one of those quizzes where everything you thought didn’t matter turned out to be exactly what they asked. Like walking into a test on French and finding out it’s actually Cajun.

I knew the language. Just not the accent.

“Oh, man. That sucks...”

I flinched. The paper crumpled slightly in my hand. I hadn’t even heard Chris walk up, but there he was, leaning in just close enough to see the damage.

“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that, dude. You’re gonna give me a heart attack,” I snapped, my voice still sharp from leftover frustration.

“Sorry...” he said softly, like he already knew how much this was messing with my head.

“Did you see this crap? I got a D. A fucking D.

Last time it had been a C+. I was getting better. I was trying.

Chris reached out and gave my back a gentle tap. Just enough to knock me out of the tailspin. I could really use a hug at that moment. But that would have been begging for trouble.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It was just a quiz. One rough day doesn’t wipe out everything you’ve done.”

“You’re still moving forward. A D when you’ve worked your ass off? That’s not failure.”

I looked at him, unsure if I believed it. Unsure if he believed it.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He gave a little shrug, like it was obvious. “And if you want, we can go over it together. Figure out what went wrong so it doesn’t stick in your head. Sound good?”

“Yeah... yeah. Thanks, Chris.”

“No problem.” He checked the time. “I hate to run, but I’ve got to go. We’ll catch up at work, okay?”

“You know, I would hug you if I could.” His voice was just a whisper.

That hit me differently. Just him saying it gave me this warm feeling. Like being tucked under a blanketlike a burrito.

I smiled. “Thanks, you're the best.”

He smiled widely and headed down the hall. And then he reached out and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, probably meant to be casual, but it lingered a second too long.

“See you later,” I called after him.

The rest of the day dragged like wet clothes on a line. Every class felt like it was being stretched out just to mess with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid quiz.

A part of me kept whispering that I should just give up. That maybe this was the proof I’d been afraid of all along.

That maybe I wasn’t built for this.

That trying only made the failure hurt worse.

By the time my last class before lunch ended, I slid down against the hallway wall, my legs folding under me like I’d finally stopped pretending to stay upright.

I’d forgotten to finish my homework last night, so I rummaged through my bag and started scribbling down answers. They were supposed to be easy. Supposed to be.

I was halfway through bullshitting the third one when I spotted Tracy walking toward me.

She didn’t even pause, just dropped down beside me like she’d done it a hundred times before.

“I was talking to Chris in Math earlier,” she said, nudging my bag out of the way. “He told me you had a little, uh... setback.”

“It’s just not fair,” I muttered. “I studied. I swear.”

“I know,” she said softly. “It sucks. But that’s life, unfortunately. Welcome to the circus.”

She stretched her legs out and leaned back against the lockers like we were sunbathing instead of slowly unraveling in a high school hallway.

“Happened to me a dozen times,” she added. “Well... maybe not a D, but still.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Last year I tanked stats. Went from an A to a C.”

I suppressed a snort. It’s funny how her idea of tanking is a C. That would be an acceptable grade to me. Especially now that I’m still trying to get back on track.

She laughed, self-deprecating. “Cried like it was the end of the world. Locked myself in the bathroom with two Kit Kats and Chappell Roan on loop.”

Something flickered behind her eyes—something honest. Not just a funny story.

“You never told me that.”

I’d always thought her grades were bulletproof. Like she didn’t even need to try.

And I felt this little ache in my chest. Part guilt for never noticing, part hurt that she hadn’t shared it then.

“’ Course not,” she said with a shrug. “I was embarrassed. I thought if I said it out loud, it’d make it true forever.”

“Embarrassed? It’s me, remember? Your brother, who had to have his drunk ass hauled up the stairs by Dad. Or who bawls his eyes out every time a dog dies in a movie.”

She laughed. A real one this time, not just a polite exhale through the nose.

“You’ll never beat that level of cringe,” I said. “Don’t even try.”

“Yeah... thanks. But I’m good.” She smiled faintly. “Next time, I’ll tell you. Pinky promise.”

She held out her pinky finger and kept wiggling it until I wrapped mine on hers.

“Please do. Then we can throw a pity party and sob over our academic failures like the responsible teens we are. And gorge on chocolate. I’ll even let you do my nails.”

She snorted and bumped her shoulder into mine. “You’re such a dumbass.”

But she was smiling. And for a second, that D didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

She stood up and brushed off her jeans. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who cried over cold fries last week. You’re basically a bottomless pit. Plus, I’ll tell Mom if you skip lunch.”

“I’ll tell Mom,” I mocked her voice as dramatically as I could. “Dick.”

“‘I’ll tell Mom,’’’ I mocked her voice as dramatically as I could. “Dick.”

“Can’t help you with that. Go ask Chris.”

I sighed. Loudly. “Would if I could. But he’s at the dentist.”

She wrinkled her nose and recoiled like I’d just spit in her cereal. “Gross.”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You know, I might strangle you one day. But only after you get life insurance.”

She jabbed a finger at me. “Yes, thank you for telling me your plan, dumbass, so I remember not to put you as my beneficiary.”

Fair enough. I didn’t have any comeback.

The world still felt like crap. But with her there, it was crap with a side of fries.