or when, once again, it comes down to grades.
"wren!"
it sounded like a whisper when contrasted with the sound of a podcast coming in through my earbuds, and i only recognized the voice as such when the speaker beat on the table.
"yuh?"
"uh, what are your grades like? like, in comparison with last semester?"
i immediately figured he was thinking about ranks. i already knew that he, high-and-mighty number two in our class, wasn't doing so hot this semester, with only one a above a ninety-five.
i rattled off my grades. i got no satisfaction from such a task. it didn't matter that much to me because so few people at our school would ever look up from their laces long enough to maintain a 4.0.
i shrugged it off. it didn't matter to me like it did to the others.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
