Chapter Ten
As soon as she made it into the classroom, after nearly running down the hallway to retrieve her book, it was right about time for the bell to ring for the first period to start. Her heart still pounded rapidly in her chest as she recovered from the exertion of the running she had just done. She reached her hands up to massage at her temples. She was wrapped up in her mind so much so that she hadn't noticed another's presence until she saw a piece of paper being placed on the desk in front of her.
Brown eyes moved up to land on the paper lying on the metal surface. A small lump formed in her stomach to see an F in big letters written on the last quiz she took. With everything going on in her family the past several years, Lorna knew that her grades were slipping tremendously and that paper only continued to prove such a point. She swallowed thickly, knowing if her father found out about it that she'd be in for a world of hurt.
"I need you to stay after class, Lorna. We need to discuss your grade," Mrs. Bell informed her in a lower tone so no other students heard the conversation. She finished passing out the other quizzes before going back to the front of the room and preparing the board with that day's notes.
Forty-five minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. Lorna shifted her legs back and forth while watching all of her classmates file out of the door. She waited for several silent moments as Mrs. Bell shuffled a pile of papers in the front of the room; each passing minute filling her with another ounce of anxiety. All she hoped was that the school didn't call her father to tell him how awful she was doing.
Placing her glasses over her eyes, the middle-aged teacher glanced up from her desk and motioned for Lorna to come over. As soon as she felt the young girl's presence beside her, she opened the gradebook and pointed down at it. "You see that? Your overall grade in here is a 48%. 48%. Do you know what that means, Miss Morello?"
A 48%. A 48%? Lorna's eyes were wide as she focused them on the small number below. She had a feeling her grade wasn't the best but she surely wasn't expecting it to be a measly 48%. She knew exactly what that meant and dreaded how her dad would react whenever he found out. "I have a 48%? That's real bad," shock made up the majority of her tone.
"A 48% is failing. You are failing my class, Lorna, and I'm going to have to call home. You only have a few weeks to get that grade up or else you will have to repeat ninth grade. Is that what you want?"
Lorna timidly shook her head in response. The last thing she wanted was to have to spend an entire another year in this school. She longed for the day she graduated so she could finally move as far away from her father as possible, and not have to deal with people like Annalisa anymore.
"I'd prefer it if ya didn't call home, please. I promise I will work harder to get that grade up, I really don't wanna repeat a year," she quietly responded, anxiety clearly evident on her flushed face.
Mrs. Bell sighed. She knew something had to be done in order for her student to improve her grades but by the look on the other's face, she quickly sensed the faint fear hidden in her voice. "Fine, I'll give you a week to start working on your grade. And I also want you to meet with the school counselor. If you do both of those things then I won't call home. But you must have the counselor give you a written slip to give to me each day as proof."
Lorna used her lunch block as the designated time to meet with the counselor. It killed two birds with one stone, she thought. Gave her a chance to get out of her least favorite part of the day as well. She nervously pulled on the knob to open the door and felt a small bout of relief to find that no one was in there. She took a seat in one of the chairs, focused her stare on the stained-glass window. A sense of comfort it gave her; she remembered the many Sunday's she spent in church with her mother and all the beautiful stained-glass windows that surrounded them.
Several minutes went by as she sat there in her thoughts. The door finally creaked open and she turned her gaze towards it. A slightly taller, middle-aged, Hispanic woman came walking in with what looked like an empty lunch bag in her hands. She watched as the woman placed the bag in the drawer of her desk before situating herself in the chair behind her.
"Hello," the counselor finally greeted her with a friendly smile. "I don't remember anyone mentioning I'd be meeting with you today. You're Lorna Morello, no?"
"Yes. Sorry I didn't know I needed an appointment—my science teacher just told me she wants me to meet with you every day for the next week." She hugged her hands together as a way to soothe her nerves. Her eyes were kept down on her thighs where she rested her hands. She wasn't too sure what the purpose of meeting this counselor was going to do in regard to her grades, but if it meant avoiding her father being called she would do anything.
Nodding, the older woman arched her eyebrows. "Hmm, who's your science teacher? I'm surprised she didn't let me know ahead of time. I like to be organized before meeting with a student. But that's okay, we'll figure this out," she informed her, grabbing a pair of reading glasses from one of the drawers.
"Mrs. Bell."
"Ah, okay, yes—it looks she did email me," the Hispanic woman noted while scrolling on her computer through the emails. Her eyes skimmed through the message for a few minutes before looking back over at Lorna. "So, it sounds like she's concerned with your performance in her class. Yeah?"
Lorna nodded solemnly. Her hands felt clammy with nervous sweat. "Uh, yeah, that's right."
"Okay, we can work on how to change that. No need to worry just yet. Oh, and I'm Mrs. Mendoza, I forgot to introduce myself—I'm good at that," a chuckle escaped her as she said that, she tended to not always remember to state her name ahead of time.
That response immediately had some of Lorna's stress and anxiety dissipate. It even had a faint smile form on her face. Maybe meeting with Mrs. Mendoza wouldn't be such a bad thing, she told herself. "Is it possible for me to not be failing her class in under a week?"
"I think we can aim for that—to pass you'll need to get your grade at the minimum up to a 60%. But why don't we take some time to figure out how your grade got as low as it did in the first place, yeah?"
"I guess I just got lazy and just, uh, let the assignments pile up." Lorna responded with an on-the-spot lie. Lying had become second nature to her at that point. Though she knew the lies were only to comfort herself and keep all the yucky emotions from trying to control her. She squeezed her hands together in her lap, a repetitive motion that seemed to always calm her anxiety.
Being a school counselor for almost two decades now, Mrs. Mendoza easily could perceive when a student wasn't being completely honest with her. She reached for her mug and tea kettle, pouring the hot water into the mug. She carefully placed the kettle back in its spot before grabbing a tea bag from a box on the right of her computer and placed it inside the steaming cup of water.
She steeped the bag methodically around the water while her eyes peered across at Lorna. "If that were truly the case, would ya be working to reverse it?"
Lorna shrugged. She reached one hand up to place atop her temple. "I just wanna know what I can do to get a passing grade," she murmured, frustration starting to set in. Was all this really worth avoiding her father's wrath? Sure, it wouldn't be a pretty sight but it also probably wouldn't last much longer than a few hours of being screamed and berated at. Which, in all actuality, she was leaning more towards allowing her father to find out and getting that over with than to go through this long process of figuring out how to approach bettering her school performance.
"Why don't you ask Mrs. Bell for a copy of all the assignments that you're missing? Tomorrow we'll take a look at that and go from there."
The end of the school day came and Lorna realized she hadn't talked to Nicky at all or even seen her in the halls. Of course, it was equally possible that she might not have even noticed if the two had crossed paths at a point throughout the day. Her mind was so focused on her failing grades that she was oblivious to anything else that may have been going on.
She quickly went to her locker to retrieve her bookbag and replaced the books she didn't need. A hand was placed on her shoulder from behind which immediately caused her to jump a tad bit. She turned around to see who the hand belonged to, giving a small laugh when she realized it was Nicky. "Ya gave me a little freight there, Nicky. But glad to see ya, it's been a long day," she informed with a smile.
Nicky chuckled with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm good at making ya jump, yeah?" She said jokingly as the two of them started walking towards the entrance of the building.
The brunette shrugged slightly but continued walking beside her down the hallway. "I was just thinking and not paying attention but yeah you're a pro at making me jump," she responded with a light laugh to convey that her words were only meant in a joking manner. Once they made their way outside of the building, sunshine immediately hit them in the face. Such a sensation formed a small smile on Lorna's face.
"That happy to be done with school for the day, huh kid?"
Lorna didn't realize exactly how true that statement was until now. Leaving that godforsaken building for the weekend certainly brought a little bit of happiness to her. It wasn't just because she would get a break from Annalisa but she also wouldn't have to worry about her grades for a few days. So, she nodded and answered with, "I am real happy that it's the weekend."
The two friends made their way through the school parking lot stopping halfway. Nicky turned to peer at the brunette. "Wanna come over and hang out tonight since it's Friday?" She longed for the other girl to agree, not only because she was intrigued by her but it would also give her the company that she so craved. Yet, she had a hunch that her response would be the opposite of what she was hoping for.
"My sister is actually picking me up today, but maybe I can meet ya at the coffee shop tomorrow? It's just downa street from my sister's place," Lorna suggested. She wanted to say yes but knew Franny would be expecting her and didn't want to cause her any worry.
Although the response wasn't entirely what she had longed for, it was enough to form a smile on Nicky's face. She nodded with a little more enthusiasm than was usual for her. She felt like a different person entirely around Lorna; something she recently became aware of. There was so much she had yet to learn about the petite brunette and she yearned to know every last thing there was to know.
"Sounds like a plan to me, kid. You can just text me and let me know what time, yeah?"
"Yeah, I'll do that," Lorna nodded with a smile before the two parted ways.
She walked the other way, searching all the cars until she caught sight of her sister's. It only took a few minutes of walking until she came across the vehicle. The sound of her little nephew's crying confirmed such. She quickly got into the passenger side, placing her bookbag on the ground beside her feet and fastened her seatbelt. Her nephew's crying slowly faded into sniffles as the car began moving.
"Marco has been crying nonstop all day—the only time he stops is when I'm driving," Franny admitted, exhaustion easily made out in her voice. She reached her free hand up to her forehead and rubbed at her temples. Nothing would bring the three-year-old any comfort; she was fatigued and at her wit-ends. She sighed, hoping that having Lorna there might help.
Lorna turned slightly to glance back at the unhappy little boy. She reached her hand over to pat his cheek gently. "What's the matter?"
He looked back at her with a pout and held up his favorite cup. "No juice?"
The brunette teenager carefully took the cup from him and quickly realized it was empty. She couldn't stop herself from gazing over at her older sister with a chuckle. "Hmm, I think we may have found the problem—his sippy cup needs some juice, Fran." When she saw the expression on the other's face, she had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughs.
With an exasperated breath of air, Franny pointed to the juice box that sat in one of the cup holders. She shook her head in disbelief. All of this crying when he could have just told her he needed more to drink. She facepalmed herself. "You've been upset all day over your cup not having juice? Why didn't ya just tell mommy? We could have fixed this hours ago."
Marco happily took his cup back from his aunt, chugging the juice with a smile. His blue eyes peeped up at his mother and he only shrugged his shoulders.
