George tapped his pencil against the packet lightly. The answer was coming to him, just not fast enough. He bites down harder on his lower lip. He knows the answer. Evelyn drilled him only a hundred times two nights ago about this question. Why can he not get the answer now?

"Oh, my fucking gosh..." He grumbles tightening his grip on the pencil.

George hates quizzes that are not multiple choice. Multiple choice questions gave him hope. If he chose an answer he had a luck that it could be wrong or right, but the right answer is always there.

Not this time. His professor, professor Moore does not believe in multiple choice questions. His reasons was that it "defeats the purpose of studying.", that is bull shit according to George.

If anything, multiple choice questions help George jog his memory. Again, out of the four answers given, one of them is correct. This helps the person that studied.

George could type up an entire argumentation essay on why answer choices are better than fill-in-the-blanks, but he can only wish he was doing that instead of doing this dumb ass quiz.

"What the fuck does this even mean?" George groans, this time a little too loud.

"Is there a problem?" The man standing at the bottom of the steps speaks up.

George glances up at the premature balding man and shakes his head, no. The man nods as well and continues surveying the row of students. He has a lot of ground to cover and has no tolerance for disruption, especially from a potty mouth like George.

George sighs heavily for what feels like the millionth time this morning. He has thirty minutes to finish twenty questions. The test has fifty questions in total. George was able to knock out the first thirty question without breaking a sweat.

Those questions were mainly based on the current chapters vocabulary and the main ideas for each of the three chapters the professor went over in class. That section was so easy.

When George saw that the last twenty questions would require him to rack his memory for the procedures to solve equations or whatever else this test is asking of him, George instantly froze. His brain went into automatic hibernation and refused to respond to him.

George does not remember what acid will almost completely be deprotonated by NaOh. It is such an easy answer, George is well aware of this, but he cannot find it.

George squeezes his eyes shut cringing at the sight of his father's scowl. Every time George feels like he is going to fail, visions of his parents pop into his head. The visions are not motivating. No, those visions are reminders of why George is here, taking Organic Chemistry for the third fucking time.

The visions of his parents are a damn warning of what will come if he decides to give up now. George does not want to see a frown on his mother's face again. He does not want a half-assed motivational speech from his father either. He just wants them to be proud of him.

"You got this, come on George." He whispers to himself, inhaling a deep breath. "I got this." He exhales with a smile.

January may just be the coldest month for George this year, both physically and metaphorically. The snow and constantly dropping temperatures are relentless and his ongoing loneliness is starting to take its toll.

It has been nearly a month since George last spoke or even contacted his family. February is knocking at the door and the season of love only taunts George's somber state. He wants more than anything to turn back the hands of time and rectify his manmade disaster, but he knows that it is impossible.

Regardless of how malevolent and, heartless his words were, they were the dark truth of his hurting heart. George was tired of holding it in. He thought letting it out would be better. Isn't it always better to finally blow a gasket? George truly thought so.

Instead of everyone crying and coming to a mutual understanding of what is going on with their beloved George, his family retaliates with scolds and scowls. George finally concluded that his family heard what they wanted to hear.

His family paid attention to his curse words rather than the message at hand. George was tired of being pressured and being demeaned for not doing enough. Why can't his family understand that? George is a fuckup, that's why.

Therefore, he only texted his mother or father on occasion, ensuring them that he is still very much alive and still focused on his studies. That is all they needed to know, all George wanted to tell them.

He even refused to tell them about Evelyn, the know-it-all asshole with nice legs that is tutoring him. George felt that if he told them about Evelyn, then they would either question him or badger him for coaxing an underclassman into tutoring him. He did not want to hear that, not at all.

All in all, these past few weeks have been quite a load for George and he is ready for the dark cloud that has been cast above him for so many years to be finally whisked away somehow.

"If you have any questions, you may contact me after class or during my office hours. I would be glad to look over your tests with you there. Other than that, I will just be returning your answer sheets." Professor Moore announces.

George bites on his bottom lip, a second nature tactic of his to calm himself. The week went by fast and although there was a minor delay with the grading of the quiz, the dreaded hour is finally here.

George was hoping that he would see Evelyn before he went to class, but her schedule is little behind his and that idea only remind as such, an idea. He would have to be a big boy and pray that his and Evelyn's efforts were not done in vain.

"Mills." The man places a packet in front of George.

George looks to his professor with a small smile and glanced away once the elder man continued to another row. George inhales deeply as he scans his area for peepers. He would be embarrassed if he has a nasty twenty on his paper and his nosy classmate saw it. He would, unfortunately, have to hurt that dickhead for being so damn nosey.

With a heavy exhale, George slowly turns the packet over. His erratically beating heart is no match for the voices of his parents. They were already badgering him, telling him he can do better. He saw his mother's synthetic smile and his father's blatant frown. They were already judging him.

George closes his eyes for only a moment, glancing at the paper with hesitation. He needs a miracle. George needs a beautiful fucking miracle.

"An eighty-four? Not bad..." She nods, sliding George's  paper across the table.

"Good job, George." Another voice chimes.

"I'm gonna frame this shit! I actually fucking passed!" George exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief. "I fucking passed."

"I think someone owes another someone a thank you..." The girl with the neat braids insinuates.

"Deja, don't. Let the man enjoy his greatest."

George chuckles at Deja's bluntness and nods in retrospect. He does indeed owe a plate full of gratitude to this girl. He really does.

"She's right. Th--"

"Not she, Deja." Deja corrects, cutting her eyes at George for a moment before smiling again. "Continue."

George finds another smile and nods his respects. Deja is a whole other version of Evelyn. The two are like twins and George truly appreciates them both. He earned Deja's acceptance last week, but she still gives him a hard time. He earned Evelyn's official approval after their little dinner, but she still gives him a hard time. He was in heaven.

"Deja is right, Ev." George averts his gaze to meet Evelyns. "I owe you a million thank you's, I really do."

Evelyn feigned boredom and waves off George's gratitude. In all honesty, she is truly proud of George's success. He worked hard for it and gave her one too many headaches along the way. This is a victory, a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"Boy don't start your Oscar speech yet, you have four other big test left. Let's see how you are by then." Evelyn deadpans.

George nods and Deja gives her friend a high five for humbling George. She is aware of his circumstance but agrees with Evelyn completely. This was a small victory, he has a long way to go. A whole spring semester actually.

George only shrugs and for a second allows himself to think about what his parents would say. He wondered if his mother would give him that smile that never reaches her eyes or a real one? He also wondered if his father would give him a backward compliment or actually offer a genuine one?

As soon as those questions started to mute Evelyn's and Deja's conversation, George closed his eyes and wished those thoughts away. He has no time to sit here and worry about the "I wonder"s, he has another class to get to and then an essay to write.

George sighs heavily as he returned to his current reality and looked to the Hershey girls that were frowning at him in concern. George had to admire how these two smart mouths could be so responsive to someone in a moment of weariness. It is novel to come across such girls like them.

It is refreshing but also frightening. George does not want them pitying him or even worrying. He is a big boy with minor family issues. He does not need their frowns.

"Why y'all lookin' like that?" George speaks up finally.

"You're the one lookin' like someone done stole ya puppy." Deja quips.

"Yeah you look so pity--"

"I'm good. I was just thinking about stuff. My next class is in ten and I gotta get there. I'll talk to y'all later." George rushes, scooting in his chair with a coolness to revive from his awkwardness.

"Well... Bye!" Deja calls after George.

George had tried to maintain his coolness, but he really does need to be at the door of his next class in ten minutes and that's how long he has to make it on time. Therefore, George had sped away and never caught Deja's words, but that was trivial. George had a class to be on time for.

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