"How will you bring yourself back up, if you won't let yourself fall?"

Unknown

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Jack of all Trades, Master of all. That's what she was.

Dad could try all he wanted, but cracking jokes is like breathing to her. Lynn and athleticism are words that were made for each other- but could she ride the unicycle with as much finesse as she could? Every magician in the world could brag about knowing how to blow you away, but to blindfold yourself and juggle five assorted things- Lincoln, are you even trying?

And she wasn't just a comedian. But a ventriloquist, a theatre kid, and a part-time academic achiever too. Luan wanted it all, and she worked for it. In her mind, moving mountains and splitting waters like Moses to the Red Sea isn't impossible at all, as long as you have the mindset to make it possible.

But of course, that's only a mindset. You can't win the race without jumping through the hurdles first.

The dining room table rocked as Luan pushed up against it, resting her elbows on the hard surface. The blue light radiated from her laptop, bathing her pale complexion. She rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn. The solidarity of a quiet Loud house would last until seven in the morning, leaving only four more hours she could ever have a date with herself. If only, that's what her projects wanted her to do.

Three nights in a row, snatched away from her, yet again, to pay the price of doing an assignment. To finish this literature essay, to draw that Science poster, and finally, to swallow up another group report due tomorrow. It didn't matter if the Wednesday ahead meant counting how many times she yawned, working an hour this late in the Loud house is the only time you can ever really get things done. Lynn's not cheering a whole stadium's worth over a touchdown, Lincoln's not jumping around the tables playing Ace Savvy, and the twins aren't fighting over the carton of orange juice in the fridge- boy does it get hard to concentrate when it happens, get it?

Less time off comedy, more on academics. What harm will that do? She took her life as more like a joke up until this point. Middle school kept telling her, and they were right. Her peers didn't lie- she needed to stop treating everything like a whole big punchline that was up to her to piece together. Even Principal Rivers gave a warm welcome by politely telling her to consider seeking Cognitive Behavioral Therapy after she bombed the inside of her car with blue paint, the second time. On the same day, mom and dad had a word with her, and threatened that if she doesn't cut it with the pranks, they'd take away her room's worth of comedic memorabilia.

Everyone was the crazy to think that she needed a shrink, and the first semester of her sophomore year proved it .

She shifted and stretched her arms and legs, snapping the kinks out her body. Luan swallowed air, cringing at the sharp tendrils running down her throat. Taking her phone and turning the flashlight on, Luan skipped to the kitchen, gliding to the fridge and grasping at the handle. She paused right before opening it, hunching closer and hovering her phone over the surface. There were hardbound papers magnetically pinned all over.

She caught sight of the bold logos corresponding to their schools. Wait, hold up. It was finally here?

Character slips, that's what they called it. In recent times, Royal Woods had started a culture where, alongside the one-on-one talk with parents, teachers would leave notes along with the student's report cards, serving as handheld commentaries of the child's character at school. From the way everyone talked about it like it were either the Holy Grail, or some wretched rat, she had to see hers too, asap.

Any form of work isn't complete without a reward of some sort- and only now, did Royal Woods realize that. The most relevant part about these personality slips is the inked letters imprinted in red, with the words "with honors". The two words that had pushed her to up her academic feat, but to turn over a new leaf too. As it turned out, schools tweaked with the system, and now they were computing the student's morals as part of the grade. Imagine, being qualified for having the highest GPA at school, yet you can't get it because you're a two-faced, backstabbing hypocrite.

Luan snickered, scanning the cards. Deserved.

It took her only so much time to realize it: why showboat on her pranks when it obviously didn't work with her teachers last year? She could flex her wit and book smarts through a much productive way: by throwing the resident-smart kid off guard and reigning herself as the new one, duh. A part of her found the character slips a little ridiculous, so acting like the last semester's prank-a-geddon didn't happen was a challenge- until the honor roll became public and promised light at the end of the tunnel if she fully committed to turning her attitude around.

And by the looks of it, it laid itself before her, under the glow of her phone's flashlight. The moment of truth.

She silently giggled, trying to contain herself. With a growing grin, she set her eyes on one of them. This year, "a little less on the pranking; extremely extra on the studying" became her motto. She took on every club performance, making sure the projects she submitted were scored over the top, and upping her game by a hundred-ten percent by studying every night- even on weekends. It's a sin against humanity to not receive credit at this point.

"Royal Woods High School

Luna Loud- Grade 11, Class 1.

Your daughter is the embodiment of balance. Luna may be the life of every party, but when time calls for it, she proves to be a spectacular listener. She is down-to-earth and ironically, the most collected of all the older Loud girls we as a faculty association have come across…"

That's my roommate. Luan chuckled.

Moving aside her paper, her eyes glazed over the rest of their cards and the commentaries written on them. She scanned through her siblings' school grades and milestones; below Luna's were the twins' cards, talking about how they got a badge for their heroic streak of protecting the other students from getting bullied, then one had Lincoln (miraculously), and his expedition on becoming the school's most renowned campus journalist; not to mention the red words in bold that said he reached the honor roll…

Yeah, no. Luan didn't have the whole day to read these. Time to find hers.

She pointed a finger at each one. One, two, three… Luan counted the papers lined up.

Eight. Lily was just a baby; the preschool doesn't give commentaries like that yet. Lori didn't count either; she's way out of coverage for mom and dad to pick her card up. Miles away from Royal Woods, it's not like Fairway followed their new trend of adding starry compliments under their student's grades- that's college we're talking about, not primary and secondary school.

So, there could only be one girl off the roster.

Impossible. Luan hummed, scanning each and every card, starting off with the ones with red stamps imprinted. Who could it be… Lucy? Nah, how could she even think of her mentee like that? The teachers probably took a day trying to list out the amazing poems she wrote. Lisa…? 1st grade doesn't make room for any innovating inventions, and finding cures for cancer, right?

No wait, never mind. Lisa's card looked eerily similar to Linc's. Stamped on it were the words, " With High Honors", in big bold letters- like that'd make her jealous.

Her chest grew tight. Where's mine?

With unstable breaths out of her gaped mouth, Luan mumbled the numbers out in chronological order before coming to one conclusion Her grin faltered. A familiar tug dumped over her, like cold water heavy on your soaked clothes.

Her chest sank. If this is a prank, it's far from funny. Luan let go of the fridge door's handle, turning around to her seat instead. She didn't need to drink water anymore. Sucking her lips in, she slipped into the chair. Trying to ignore the rising flame in her belly.

So much for expecting.

Maybe her bad reputation from freshman year went a little above the school's faculty room. And yeah, maybe she flaunted a little too much by debating against the teacher when they mispronounced a word, or said the wrong information…

Luan leaned on the backrest, clenching her teeth. Calm down. Take a deep breath in, and one out. Maybe mom and dad forgot to put hers in- maybe they didn't get hers yet with all the buzz and commotion going on in the restaurant. She could ask them tomorrow.

Her neck craned as her gaze set to the dim ceiling. That's dumb- to forget about her when they didn't even leave out Lucy- and dad may have been forgetful, but mom wasn't that shallow.

Yeah, okay, sure- the teachers at school disliked her. What school faculty would be in the right mind to think of her in an appreciative way? She snorted, pulling a hand up to rub her eyes. After all, who is she?

With the crack of her knuckles snapping in her ears, she began typing at a furious pace. Last semester, the guidance counselor evaluated her with the conclusion that she was just a resilient sophomore with a zany sense of humor for a personality. She ferociously typed down the document with an endless stream of words. As they said before, she's just a theatre kid who played one of the biggest roles in school musicals and script-writing competitions. Nothing more than a prankster with an edge for all academic subjects at school- who aced every single test, passed homework almost way too early- and so on, so forth.

She's given them the same things, the same achievements last year, on a higher scale. But that's not enough for them, huh? They wanted to see her break a sweat for it, don't they? To see her work her way through a repentance for all the dumb pranks she did last year?

The past will not define her present. The first semester offered her second chance at making things right- but this, this one would be her last shot. Luan chewed on her lower lip, tapping letters and forming words on the screen. Once these projects are done- no, once this semester is done, she will have the last laugh.

And today, would be the beginning of her expedition to perfection.

Did it come as a shocker when high school proved to be ruthless, as everyone told her it'd be? Luan drummed rhythmic strum on her desk. Actually, no; Lori, Leni and Luna were being nice- high school is downright insufferable, especially when your peers crown you as their redeeming savior.

Predictable as school is, with all the essays, and the homework and everything- the first semester looked vanilla compared to the present- unless you were babied enough to cry over five pieces of bring-home tests every night. The teachers must've decided on a two-month early, new year's resolution: this time, the projects escalated, with the catch being every project in itself was done with an assigned group.

Yesterday night, was barely a chance to breathe from the three consecutive reports they had to do. Then there was this, the fourth oral report this week; what's better? It was announced yesterday. Luan sucked in breath. What sort of performance would Miss Dublin expect?

On her other hand, was Mr. Coconuts, staring straight at the board. "An entire discussion, that's what- especially when you're taking the stage"

Luan faced her puppet. "Oh please, you're being too kind."

Public speaking never came as a hitch when you've been doing stand-up comedy from as young as four-years-old. After getting booked at birthday parties to gigs at Sunset Canyon, to theatre performances at school back and forth, oral reports didn't make her wince once.

"Oh, did I say you were taking the stage? I meant me." He snorted sardonically.

Their room's natural light diminished as the 3rd group's reporter wrapped up her speech. Excelling academically and wanting to strive for more meant she was forced to take on more roles in the group over everybody else. When it came to hogging the spotlight, she was all in- being entitled for being the mastermind behind their research, for being the creator of their visual aid, and for reporting in front was prestige- and who could let it pass, let alone by someone as competitive and attention-craving as she is.

And you know, it could keep going- the thrill of doing it all, and knowing it all as a result was doing wonders to her.

If only Lisa could magically transform her into a superhuman or something along that trail. Only three weeks of persistent group reports, and like that, the adrenaline of being the jack of all trades started to fade out. The thought of putting in all the work into it alone again was getting underneath her skin. So, last night, Luan called for a tough resolution: to split the labor.

Over the course of one evening, she had her two of her groupmates split certain parts to the topic they were given- the same two did the research, created the chart, and wrote the questions- while she, along with two other girls as backup- will go up the stage and share it to the class.

That's how it went in her head, at least.

In reality, what happened the night before reminded her why hogging the task should've been her first choice. If doing it all alone burned her out, working with the group disintegrated her into ashes. Call it a coincidence that she got grouped with people like them, but their exposure, brains, and not to mention, tastes, were just mountains apart from each hers. Give them a task, you receive only half the effort, and like that one gangster they kicked out of their group, no work at all.

And when all her siblings, along with mom and dad fell asleep, she snuck downstairs and spent the evening on hair-pulling, head-banging errors throughout revising the work. Through it all, the luggage of her other assignments haunted her, until around midnight- when she actually got to doing them. Nonetheless, it was over with- she caught up with it before mom and dad came out of their rooms to find her asleep on the table. Barely.

But that was the night before, and today would be when they could flex how worth it their -technically her- effort is.

"Okay… Loud's group. You're up next.", Their teacher's voice echoed.

The whole room had their eyes on her, and her two back up peeps- Grace and Bella. Luan sat Mr. Coconuts on her chair as she stood up with her chin up, contrasting them both- who had reluctance written over their face as they walked over to the front of the class.

"Ready?", Luan motioned as they nodded, handing out a USB. A moment later, Bella connected it to the teacher's laptop. She glanced at her two other groupmates- seeing how they bowed their heads awkwardly. Luan motioned to the class, her classmates' anticipating smiles urging her on. Let's get this show on the road.

Luan cleared her throat. Remember, this is a formal occasion. "Good afternoon, everyone. So today…"

The report was about an example of a Community Based Disaster Risk Management plan, otherwise known as a CBDRM plan for short. With a motion, she urged both girls to read the content for her. Bella and Grace set their eyes on the laptop screen. Bella's voice quivered, and goodness sake, she couldn't stop twirling her brown hair. Grace simply followed along.

With each swipe through the PowerPoint, the structure in their report remained consistent- both of them read the content, Luan discussed it further. The world before her stopped moving, stuck on her were their heads raised in intrigue, faces nodding to every word she said. Luan smiled at their eagerness, pacing back and forth as she thoroughly broke apart every piece of their answer. Showing off that her powerful stage presence wasn't just limited to all thing's comedy; explaining in detail why we as a community should focus on prevention over cure; tearing the seams as to why a plan should be structured and logical, making sure they didn't just know- but fully understood the essence of a CBDRM plan.

Until her eyes landed on Miss Dublin, sitting at the center of the aisle; she wiped a strand of her ginger hair up. With her head cocked, she scanned the report with a hard look of scrutiny. A fairly new teacher, her background life remained private, so only the school faculty knew where she came from. But from the way she had introduced herself as their Social Studies teacher, the way she couldn't command respect from the crowd already spelled trouble.

And since last semester when she came in somewhere nearing the exams, it seems that from the moment Luan once took the spotlight to report for a project- Miss Dublin had her glare on her since. The same stink eye glare Britney and her minions shot her during lunch. Who knows why she could be feeling that way towards her for sure?

A sense of apprehension filled her when Miss Dublin finally interrupted the speech with a lift of her hand. Her guts were right. "Does your report have anything to do with the reference map I gave you?"

Luan choked, her eyes darting to the reference map pasted on the board left idle. Every beat of her heart, drummed in her ears. It served no function in the report, but their presentation revolves around it.

"Uh… yes, it does, Miss." Luan squeaked out.

"Then why aren't you using it?", She shook her head in reproach. Luan inwardly cringed; wherever this woman grew up, probably wasn't a stable environment- that's for sure. "You know what… never mind. You obviously didn't go by instruction."

Surrounded by silence, the attention no longer felt welcoming. A deep plunging sensation ripped through her chest. Ow- Miss Dublin is the not the type of woman you would want in an audience.

"Alright… moving on to where we last stopped," One thing you learn from the entertainment biz, is that hecklers could be anybody- so long as they don't know you well. Shrugging it off, Luan continued on with the presentation as if the words didn't pierce through her. Luan leaned against the table, tapping her fingers with the velocity of a shaking powder keg ready to burst. She shifted her gaze to her classmates, and somehow, gone were the same intrigued looks given to her moments ago - replaced with the 'just wrap-it-up', look.

Her neck grew warmer. Their faces, the silence, her scrutinizing glower tightened the grip on her neck. Each minute she spoke, her lungs demanded more air. In a rush to finish the report, Luan sped through the presentation- who cares for this anymore, just call it the end and that's that.

"You have two minutes left," Miss Dublin said sharply. "Make it quick."

Time wasn't by her side. Luan nodded; arms shaking, knees trembling. Bella and Grace were right there, but screw them. It took sheer willpower for her not to chuckle sheepishly; to not deliver an awful pun that could at least pull on her classmates' strings. A sheen of sweat glistened brightly on her forehead; she wiped it quickly. Two minutes… how many seconds left? "So's" and "ums" came out- a lot of it; she read through the PowerPoint, took two seconds to explain it, then moved on. Pretzels twisting in her belly. Minutes are counting down into seconds, and they're not even halfway though.

And there, her voice caught again.

" Loud?"

Luan clenched her teeth, inhaling slowly. What now!? "Yes, miss?"

Miss Dublin tilted her head in skepticism. Her chest hollowed. She wrung her stiff, yet sweaty hands together. "Is this what your group intends to do for the whole report?"

What did she mean? What's wrong with the report? Luan gulped a thick ball of saliva. Everyone's eyes were on her. Why did everyone take this so seriously? Laugh a lil', won't you, guys? "Yes, miss. This what we planned all along." She giggled. Nobody else did. "Why? Is there something wrong with it?"

"Your group doesn't seem to have the capacity to report this the way I expected.", Her classmates broke into murmurs; everyone watched as her smile faltered.

Luan's eyebrows lowered. For what it's worth, what do you even expect after announcing it just yesterday?

She always had that ominous aura surrounding her. That hostility whenever Luan volunteered to answer a question, to the side eye she'd receive instead of a thank you for correcting Miss Dublin's accent were red flags.

And this right here- is raising anything but a green flag.

Miss Dublin pursed her lips. "Where are your other groupmates? Why are you the only one reporting? Aren't you the leader of the group?"

Luan nodded, but that title, she didn't deserve. The first semester opened her eyes to how spineless she was when it came to directing a play, but that had given her the chance to ride a road alternating between bumps, smooth cement, and jagged spikes. Even now, through months of constant group projects, leading a group still sounded foreign.

Miss Dublin turned to Bella and Grace. "Don't you realize that as the group leader, you're supposed to help them shine in the front?"

Because who else will do it, miss? She could've delegated the work to her group but Dublin herself said scripts were strictly forbidden- in order for her to see if they students really got what they were reporting. Who else in my group, miss, is as good as me? Confident enough to go up to the front and speak nonsense that everyone will believe?

Luan smiled awkwardly. A sheen of sweat heavy on her forehead. "We did cooperate, miss- we researched this together." Technically. "I mean, you said scripts weren't allowed yesterday, so I thought I'd help myself out by speaking up here myself."

She caught glance of her classmates' eyes widening. Gasps, groans- all heard. Miss Dublin wiped a hand on her face. Luan gripped the table tightly. Tendrils of energy shot through her tingling veins; Luan couldn't resist letting out a frustrated grunt. Ugh, what'd I say this time?

The tension, the dark atmosphere- the thrill died down. This is getting old. Luan scowled. What the heck did this teacher want from her? Some sort of clown act? A comedy routine? Was her mentioning the no-script rule that bad? Did she also mention that saying it was a mortal-sin and she broke that code, and now everyone's freaking out?

No, no- what was this gonna do to her overall grade?

Miss Dublin sighed and stood up. The fire in her eyes only pushed Luan to keep her head up and chest out. Looking defiantly at her, Luan leaned against the table, waiting for an answer. Hey, twice is enough to be interrupted in your report- what point was she trying to get across? How to destroy somebody's performance?

"For someone who's bad at following instructions as you are, you're pretty cocky, lady." Miss Dublin clicked her tongue, motioning for all three of them. "Girls, go back to your seats."

When they did as she asked, Miss Dublin took over the front. Luan wiped her forehead and took a deep breath, feeling her heartbeat reduce into normality. "So, what did that report teach us all?"

An example of what a Community Based Disaster Risk Management Plan looks like? Luan bit her cheek. Far from it, definitely.

She scanned the room, holding her breath in. Her classmates were still-like and almost robotic; looking close to being hypnotized by the eerie silence of the class.

Turning back around, she met Miss Dublin's glance. "See class, this is why I set you up for group reports: to test your cooperation.", She said. "Loud's group over here, is a bad example of that."

Her face scrunched up. That's it? It's all a test to see if we work it out? It wasn't the actual handiwork we're focusing on?

"I specifically told you all yesterday that everyone has to report.", Miss Dublin looked at her. "Where was that in your group, Loud?"

Luan grinded her teeth together. Was this woman hearing herself? "You said it yourself, no scripts allowed- and since this was announced yesterday, who even has that much time to study, let alone, share their thoughts in front of the class ?", Luan retorted. "I just don't want the group to go through the hassle of speaking in front knowing I can't guide them on what to say next."

Hushed whispers emerged. The room gradually stirred back to life.

Miss Dublin raised her brows at her in a cocky manner, almost as if to look down on her. "You're the leader; you're supposed to be the one guiding them to go out of their shell, Loud."

Then she turned to the whole class. "Why do you all think I grouped you each with a smart and confident student? That's to check if you can all manage and work together to present something, in the name of the leaders taking charge. I do not wanna see people hogging the stage, I want everyone to have an honest opinion on their topics."

Her piercing scowl made Luan look down to the board. The clenching of her jaw got tighter. Luan hovered her arms on the desk and scratched her fingernails together. A group is supposed to share the same motives. The same want, an equal desperation to be something. Does that mean I'm obliged to work for the grades they don't deserve?

Being in charge of pushing them to become that 'something' sounded easy, if only they were as easy to read as her siblings. Her schoolmates were impossible to get by sometimes, and more ambiguous than the people living with her since forever. The respect she was given at home because of her birth rights didn't reflect here at school. In here, you have to earn that respect. Gain their attention, charm them to follow your command.

And right after the disaster that was freshman year, who would look at her as more than a rebel? As much as this year meant change for her, her classmates still struggled to see it. If you picked out the student-leaders based on their traits, and not the brains- she wouldn't even be on the list to begin with. You don't ask for respect, you demand it- and being that push to a crowd is already a grueling task in itself, but that for a project due the day after it's been announced- that's above her pay grade.

She breathed heavily. How do you to drive others to care for a subject you can care less about?

Miss Dublin shook her head, steering back to the class. "Okay, next group."

All five members of the next group got up. A blonde girl confidently strode to the front. Oh, the group Whitney led- the one student who could actually put up a challenge against Luan.

No biggie, it's not like Whitney was an actual threat. If Luan read five books in a day, Whitney read ten. It's all just a result from book-smarts, but no, she wasn't that clever.

When Whitney began speaking, she pursed her lips. And look at that, Luan exhaled; watching the way she covered her face with a sheet of paper. She's reading a script.

She turned her head to Miss Dublin; whose face carried no scrutiny. Okay, going solo for the report made her flip instantly- but not this?

Miss Dublin made it clear that scripts were out of the rules yesterday, and Whitney demonstrated why. The topic remained a question mark in her head when every member just read their scripts one by one, with a voice monotone like Lucy couldn't do. Luan pressed a fist on her cheek. Yet somehow, it was justified now?

She could do a hundred times better than this. Luan rolled her eyes and leaned back on her chair, blocking out the toneless voices before her. Life's too short to deal with this. There's no point of going on and on about how bad this presentation was. Nothing against Whitney or anything- other than how she gave off strong teacher's pet vibes.

A groan built up at the back of her throat. Their group members struggled through reading their scripts. Even Todd sounded more human.

Luan imagined the time away. Maybe later on at home, she could unwind and focus more on her stand-up. She could structure her next big prank with Lily. Or better yet, spite mom and dad by tearing all her siblings' cards out of the fridge and tell them she wrote those cards all along, and that those compliments from the so called, teachers, were actually just her.

A smile creeped on her face. That prospect was promising. Heartbreaking, maybe- it'd probably get her twisted into a pulp by Lynn, or guitar riffed to oblivion by Luna- but thrilling.

Luan, cut it. You don't do those types of pranks. They're not funny- they're only playing the fam dirty.

Suddenly, her stream of thoughts was cut short as everyone gave a round of applause to the last group. Only a blink then, did Miss Dublin take over the class, papers with their names in hand.

Her hands were rigid as she pressed them together. Their grade is already secured in the F-tier, but oh well, she wanted to hear it come out straight from the source.

"This group project was to test how most of you would cope with such a strain in a period of time." Miss Dublin smiled. "And suffice to say, I'm impressed- with the chemistry and production I found in each group- so you all deserve a perfect mark of seventy."

The class broke in cheers, except her. Luan averted her gaze; her eyes narrowing. Impressed? With the production? She snorted, reclining on her chair. That's the biggest joke I heard the whole day.

"Except for Loud's group; who only get a sixty out of seventy."

Luan drew back with a frown. A ten-point difference? Why?

What're the bases? Where are the rubrics? If she's just gonna be throwing out perfect scores to the other groups with hardly any effort in their reports, why does their group have to go down- down to ten points?

"What? How come?", Luan exclaimed, eyeing the teacher. What grudge are you holding against me?

Miss Dublin turned to her with a sorry look. "For one, you broke two instructions: you didn't use the reference map, and you hogged the stage and left out two of your groupmates behind."

"But like I said, we based the whole report off the map! And hey, it's not like I left them behind- I just assigned them to an easier task because I know it'd take them a while to pull it off without scripts.", Luan countered. "Plus, the other group used a guide to their report, and you said that wasn't allowed, right? Why didn't you call them out?"

"I at least saw them trying to get their act together.", Miss Dublin shook her head leaning over Luan's desk. "I opted to rate the report itself a forty if I hadn't seen how much effort you put into reviving the report in the second half of it."

Luan's glare softened as a finger pointed itself at her accusingly. "If you can't handle my style of scoring, then do better next time. Don't make me regret giving you a sixty, because you're challenging me to go lower than that, Loud."

Luan gasped as her classmates "ooh-ed". A teacher, a student-teacher not to mention, roasted her, as unreasonably as that. She sunk in her seat and clenched her fists as to keep herself still. She could keep talking back and take a shot in the dark- aiming for a fair negotiation, but something, deep in her guts churned. With a young student-teacher as stubborn as Miss Dublin? Even their original Social Studies teacher, Mrs. Lemmings- as cranky and uptight as she is- was easier to convince than this woman.

Eh, screw it. While, being ten points below the rest of them knowing her work and theirs were incomparable, was injustice- hey, it's only one failure. Uncompensated as it was, there's a next time. A second chance to make a better comeback.

Luan pulled her phone out of her backpack and opened her to-do-list. There was a test tomorrow in Science, a small pop-sheet she had to do for her Home Economics elective, and some other stuff that took too long to read. Her knees bounced as the world around her grew distant. Life's too short to uncross that bridge; there was a list she had to cross out.

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Author's Note:

Wow, I can't believe chapter one's been officially published now. This was a story I worked on since October last year, and considering that it took approximately seven months to gain enough confidence to upload has never made it so overwhelming to release a new story yet. I'm not implying that just because a whole year went round since the last time I uploaded a story, I stopped writing entirely. Though, I haven't made time for it as much as before, so if my writing style sounds off, then take this as your answer.

Feedback and criticisms alike are welcome! Stay tuned for the second chapter, "Ambition Takes Flight". Let's cross the bridge when we get there. Catch y'all tomorrow!