Just say it

They said things would get more challenging when I reached high school, and I didn't understand what part would be challenging.

The first day of high school was stressful, I had a poor sense of direction and a short memory, so I relied on the map in my hands. But even with the piece of paper, I couldn't find my first class. Even though I also went to the orientation and they guided us around the whole school, I was going to be late.

I didn't want to admit it, but I needed help. I hated receiving help. it felt like a bother for the other party and I didn't want that. I stood in front of the front office, deciding to myself whether I should really ask for help. It couldn't have been that hard? How was it this hard to find one small classroom in this enormous building?

With daring steps, I opened the door and saw a women sitting in one of the chairs of her desk.

"I- um..."

She looked at me weirdly. It felt like her sharping gaze would pierce a hole in my chest.

I held out my schedule paper in front of her.

"...Do you know where this room is?" I managed to say.

She looked at the piece of paper I was holding then smiled at me, " Oh, it's on this floor to your left." Her smile didn't make me feel any better because I wasn't paying any attention to the words that came out of her mouth. I was too focused on how I actually managed to talk to someone.

For me, it was hard to talk to someone, whether it be for fun or help. I never understood how anyone can talk so freely to people they didn't know, but I improvised.

"Can you show me...?" I asked.

The women nodded and got up with a smile, which to me, was uncomfortable. How could she smile when someone's asking her for help? I'm obviously disrupting her during her work, but this is her job afterall.

She guided me to my first class, but by the time we arrived, I was already late since the bell had rung when I was deciding whether I wanted to get help. I thanked the women and she walked away. My classroom wasn't even far away from the front office, it was literally a few walks away. Now I felt like an idiot.

As I stood in front of the door, I could hear the teacher muffled words from behind the door. I grabbed the handle and opened the door. The moment I entered through the door, the teacher greeted me, but I felt intimidated by the stares of my new classmates.

"Sorry for being late..." I quietly replied.

It was shameful: I was late, I didn't even greet the teacher back, and I probably looked like a fool to them. And now there was another problem, everyone had already chosen their seats, where am I going to sit?

"It's OK!" She said cheerfully. From a first glance, I could tell that she would be a very energetic teacher. Unfortunately, I don't work well with anyone. My eyes kept wandering around the room, desperately for a seat, but to no avail. "You can sit in the back seat, right there...!" She pointed.

My eyes followed her fingers direction, and indeed it lead me to an empty seat in the way back of the classroom. I took my seat, then she began introducing herself.

Lunch time rolled around and I'm glad it did because my stomach had started growling. I shared no classes with any of my friends, which meant I had to make new friends in my classes or just be that one loner girl in class. I got rid of those thoughts and tried to think about other happy things, but I kept thinking back to earlier this morning when I had to introduce myself in front of the whole class.

It was to be expected since it was the first day of school. But it was pointless to me because why bother getting to know one another if our goals are all going to lead us into different paths? I really hate meeting new people and I'm pretty sure they feel the same way.

"Hey! Over here!" I recognized this voice, it was my friend. I listened and looked for the source of the voice and I saw my friend waving at me. She was sitting with my other friends and some other people.

Lunch time was only 20 minutes, so before I grabbed my lunch and found my friends, I only had a few minutes left. We talked about how our day was so far and about our classes and teachers. I really hated it. I just wanted to go home already, I don't want to stay here any longer.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. My next class was... where? God, I just wish this day would be over with already...

I looked at the clock, which was barely in my line of view, but I was able to see the clock hands and the time was almost here. How did I know? Because the whole class was getting louder and getting ready to pack up. I, too began to pack up. Then, the bell rang. School was over. Finally.

I walked back home, which was surprisingly close by, it was only a few streets away from the school.

A few weeks had passed, and I definitely respectively earned the title of being that one shy loner girl in class. It was unavoidable. I just seem to always receive this proud title. But what can I say? It's just so hard to ask for help, it's so hard to look into people's eyes when they're talking to you, everything is so hard. But it's not because this was high school, I have always had this problem during middle school.

I wouldn't participate in class, but when it was something that became a part of my grades, I knew I had to overstep my boundaries. But the thing is: I wasn't ready. This angered me because the system was practically forcing me to go over my comfort zone. It was either that or a bad grade and I can't afford having any lecture from my mother. She was a hardworking, independent women that I've always looked up to, and I've always wanted to do anything to make her proud.

I couldn't. I couldn't earn trophies, awards or even earn myself a worthy title in school or in the family. The best I could do was get good grades. It was the only thing I was capable of. So I became obsessed with getting all A's in every class. Whenever I would receive a grade that was below 90%, I would become desperate and panic.

Getting anything besides an A was the worst. I wanted to do better. Not for me, for them. For my family. But even thought all I wanted was one simple thing, it was so hard. There were obstacles in my way: Teachers. They were the one who assigned those grades to me, so I would be wary around them.

One day, I checked my grades online and there in front of my eyes were a big, fat B.

A B? A grade below 90%?

I knew the only choice I had to do was talk to the teacher and ask for her help. But it was so hard, I didn't want to ask them for help. What if I was a bother to them? They might think I was just exaggerating about my grade because B isn't really a bad grade to begin with. That is true, but my obsession said otherwise. I attempted to talk with the teacher, I even asked them what I could've done better, they said I couldn't do anything about it and to just be happy with my grade because it wasn't all that bad.

I became angry.

The next day, I tried talking to the teacher, I asked over and over again. Now I knew that was annoying but I wanted some sign of hope that I could still make things work. The following days, I asked and asked.

The day my report card came in the mail, I gave up. It was now permanently in my grade. I couldn't change that. I put the report card on the table, where my mom could just walk in and see it. She didn't need to say anything, I already knew what she was going to say. She was disappointed.

Or maybe she wasn't? I don't know, but I wanted to hear her say it. She looked at my report card then at me. I looked at her back.

"Just say it," I silently reminded myself. I knew I would regret it if I didn't hear it for myself. I waited for her response.

"You got a B? I guess you're not that good at math!"

"Are you still proud of me?" I asked in a low voice.

"It's... not bad," she responded with a huff.

It's not bad... it's not bad? B literally stands for bad! But I guess if she'd okay with the results, I'll be good. My obsession soon faded and I wasn't as stressed as I was before.