Report card day never ended well for him and he didn’t expect things to miraculously become a Disney movie when he came home. Needless to say, his ‘warm’ welcome home consisted of the expectant look on his parents’ faces, waiting for him to hand over the manila envelope that would determine his fate for the rest of the month. He didn’t even get the chance to take off his shoes or run off to the bathroom to finally let out the pee he had been holding since sixth period.
His dad ripped open the envelope, pulling out the crisp white papers that contained his results of doom. His face, ever hopeful, stared up at his parents as their gaze went from expectant to murderous. He was used to this; he was supposed to be used to this. Instead, his expression dropped, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt as he bit his lip in contemplation of what they would nitpick on now. His body stiffened in preparation for whatever may come his way. He was ready.
The first blow came in the form of the stack of papers whacking the back of his head. He stumbled forward, wincing and biting down the urge to cry out in pain. Showing weakness wouldn’t help his situation now. Voices raised to the loudest of decibels humanly possible, his parents dragged him to the dining table and sat him down in the chair opposing them. Neither said a word as they harshly shoved the papers in front of him, watching his eyes tear in confusion as he wondered why he was still sitting here.
Every single thing on that report card held an A.
God knew it wasn’t enough for them.
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