Love Can Wait, Finals Can't

A shrill scream woke me up. "F in physics! E- in chemistry! F in Borisian! F in mathematics!"

When my eyes snapped open, my furious mother—Mary Seymour—was standing in front of me, holding my crumpled report card in her hand.

"You came in second to last in your class! Are you purposely trying to make me angry, Emma? I spent so much money to send you to Riveria High School, yet you're scoring this kind of grade!"

Wait. Riveria High School?

I looked around blankly. Lavender curtains, a calendar counting down the days until the SATs, a periodic table of elements pasted on the wall…

Had I returned to my sophomore year in high school?

"Mom?" I asked shakily.

Mom roared furiously, "Don't call me that! I don't have a shameful daughter like you! You didn't listen when I told you to study literature and history! Instead, you insisted on choosing physics and chemistry!

"And look at you now! Second to last! If not for the fact that there was someone who came in last place, you'd be the worst in your class!"

Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. I hugged Mom and exclaimed, "I'm sorry, Mom! I was wrong! I was really wrong!"

I grew up in a single-parent family. Mom placed all her expectations on me from a young age, which resulted in a very tense relationship between us.

The three things I hated hearing most were, "Everything I do is for your sake", "Study hard for a better future", and "Can you please do something that'll make me proud of you for once"?

I just wanted to enjoy a wonderful youth and engage in a spectacular romance with the school heartthrob! I wanted to marry a wealthy heir and thus reach the pinnacle of success!

So, the stricter Mom was with me, the more rebellious I became.

In order to fit into Jack's social circle, I skipped classes, attended parties, drank alcohol, and smoked weed. I became a delinquent.

In the end, everyone else had backup plans except me.

When I entered society, not even Moonbucks Cafe was willing to hire me without a good academic resume. The so-called slogan to "follow your dreams" was nothing more than empty words.

Although academic qualifications certainly weren't the only criterion by which people evaluated a person's success, they were the most precious resource children of immigrant families had to turn their lives around. By the time I understood that principle, it was far too late.

I had no choice but to serve tables at a restaurant, working day and night for an hourly wage of only seven dollars and 25 cents.

Mom was stunned. "Did you wake up on the wrong side of bed?"

"I want to transfer to a literature course. Science really isn't for me—I can understand neither physics nor chemistry. Please, Mom. Please let me transfer to a liberal arts course."

"Didn't you want to be in the same glass as that student named Jack?"

I gritted my teeth. "He's nothing! From today onward, nobody is allowed to hinder my studies!"

Mom observed me suspiciously for a long time before finally nodding. "Alright. I'll see your school counselor tomorrow."

The next day, the counselor in the academic counseling office—Amos Glassfield—pushed his glasses up his nose and asked, "So, you want to transfer to a literature course? Alright. However, you'll only be able to transfer if you score a grade of B or above for the liberal arts proficiency test."

I nodded. "I know."

After exiting the office, I clenched my fists tightly. It'd been so many years since I graduated from high school that I'd forgotten all about literary analysis. Still, I had to seize the opportunity this time.

The news of my course transfer spread quickly, and Jack intercepted me just as I stepped into the classroom.

He frowned at me in displeasure. "What the heck are you up to, Emma?"

Sarah Wellston, who was next to him, added passive-aggressively, "You don't get it, Jack. She's playing hard to get."

Jack sneered. "Drop the act. Do you think you can turn the tables by transferring to a liberal arts class? Dream on. A loser will always be a loser."

I stood up slowly. The entire class had their eyes on me.

I said slowly and clearly, "Who do you think you are, Jack?"

Silence instantly fell upon the classroom.

Jack's face reddened with anger. "What did you say?"

I picked up the report card from his desk. "You scored an E in physics—just one grade higher than me—and a D- in math, a D+ in chemistry, and an F in Borisian. With grades like these, you wouldn't even be able to get into a state university without your father's backing."

"You're asking for it!" yelled Jack.

I threw the report card in his face. "Are you mad? Do you know what the biggest difference between us is? I'm a temporary loser while you're eternal trash. You're nothing without your father's money.

"I'll be able to get into a Vine League university in one year! You, on the other hand, will only be able to spend money to buy a degree abroad in Ezelia."

I then leaned closer to him and continued word by word, "Remember what I said today, Jack. One day, I'm going to make you kneel down and beg me."

The entire class was silent. Some of them quietly took out their phones to record us.

Sarah restrained a furious Jack and said placatingly, "Don't be reckless. She's deliberately provoking you."

I turned to her. "By the way, Sarah, you scored an A in physics, right? How amazing. It's a pity that solving equations is all you know.

"Did you know that someone like you is nothing but a spare tire in Jack's eyes? He's going to look for a wealthy nobleman's daughter to marry in the future. You're at most a tool to him."

I stared into her eyes. "Also, don't say bad things about people behind their backs. The next time I hear you doing that, I won't mind letting the whole school know that you were expelled for having an affair with the coach during summer camp last year."

Sarah paled instantly.

As I turned to leave, I heard the sound of tables and chairs crashing to the floor and Jack's outraged bellow.

I smiled. Everyone who looked down on me should just wait and see—the day I got into Hareford University would be the day they got on their knees and begged me for forgiveness.

As for me, I'd step on them on my way to the peak.