School is a battleground. A warzone. Nervous smiles are plastered on your classmates faces. Tension lurks in the air. A lame joke and a fake laugh can be heard across the classroom. Soon, everyone joins in on the façade. Every throbbing heart beat echoes in your ears. The feeling of adrenaline rushing through your body is petrifying. The classroom is a prison. You leave to go get some air.
The first bell rings. The day has officially begun. The first class is chemistry. A test awaits. Why is there a test on results day? Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. The test is a piece of cake. You rush through it, recalling the answers easily. An hour later, all that is left to do is wait. Small talk helps. Well, only a little.
“The results have arrived,” it is the battle cry. The alarms have been sounded. One by one, your peers are called into the classroom. One friend comes out with a smile. Another’s face is expressionless. Tears trickle down a third one’s cheeks.
Your name is called. The time has come. The result sheet is handed. A quick glance proves the worst. The battle is lost. Chemistry is a B. Math is a B. Biology is an A. But, Physics disappoints the most. Physics is a D. The worst has come. First hits denial. Then hits anger. And last hits pain. These are the stages of anger. You would have never imagined them to happen all at once, though.
Sometimes, hard work does not pay off. Well, why does it have to be this time? Outside the classroom, all your friends wait. Blood rushes to your face, burning a little. The look on everyone’s faces shows concern. Maybe a hint of pity as well. The sounds of comfort begin to fill in the void. But, none of that seems to matter. The fact is: D is for disgrace.
The teacher’s say it’s okay. But that is a statement hard to believe. Faith is a strange word at this moment. Everything is a blur. The universe is conspiring against you. A grade so bad, after the hard work and determination seems unfair. Your belief in the phrase ‘life isn’t fair’ is strengthened. Belief works in unexpected ways.
There is a desire to rush home, like decades have passed by. There is a desire to be alone. Ms. Sheetal understands, and class is cancelled for the day.
On the way home, your parents comfort you over the phone, as well. The assurance in their voice is heart-warming. Nonetheless, it is equally tiring. The exhaustion overpowers any other emotion left inside, forcing you to agree to everything they say.
A room with the curtains drawn. A bed. And the weight of a blanket. The best possible solution to this problem. Well, at least a possible solution to the problem. Four hours and ten missed calls later, you wake up. Sleep usually helps; not this time, though.
As the night approaches, the pit becomes heavier. A night out with friends would seem like a nice idea. Turns out, it’s not. You end up feeling worse. Holding back the tears gets harder every passing second.
The future is uncertain, now. As a child, you pictured a different version of what’s currently happening. The world has ended, now. The sky has fallen down. It’s weight, on your chest. The world is not on your side.
Regardless of the assurance, regardless of the comfort, regardless of the help everyone gives, you know that nothing is the way it’s supposed to be. You lost the battle. Even the thought of war seems impossible.