Students fidgeted in their classrooms after school, some anxious, others excited. I, on the other hand, felt like taking a dip in quicksand. It was the long awaited report card conference, and I had a feeling it wouldn't go as well as last year. I peeked into Abigail's last class, sweat beads rolling down my neck as I scanned for her scarlet locks. Fingers sliding down the blue door frame in defeat, I sighed when I didn't see her.

It's useless. I should make my will now. Wait―I can't even write one!

"Maybe she went to the bathroom," I muttered while walking back to class, eyes glued to the floor. Other students walked past me with their parents close behind, conversing in hushed voices. My mind wandered off to Mom and Dad, thankful they took my words seriously. At least now I could rest at ease since they understood my problem.

Imagine, something I'd been worrying over for months suddenly got lifted off my shoulders. It made me let out the air I didn't know I was holding in. I almost felt... free.

Peeking into Ms. Flores' class again, I noticed students scattered around the room. They chatted while their parents waited to talk with the teacher. I scanned for my seat and headed back to sit down. Once I settled into my seat, Kyle decided to come by.

He scratched the back of his head, mumbling, "Are your parents here yet?"

Huh. This was new. Nevertheless, I smiled, answering, "No, but Mom'll come later and Dad's driving here now."

"Ain't that nice."

He took sat across from me, pointing to the red-headed man and dark skinned woman hovering over Ms. Flores' desk at that moment. "Mine are over there."

The man―his father, I assumed―glared at a pile of papers crumpled in his hand. Tests, maybe? Kyle's pretty smart, though...

"He looks a bit angry," I noted while turning back to Kyle. And he's looking straight at us.

The boy's eyebrows knitted together tighter than the stitches my sweater, clenched fists trembling in his lap. I coughed to get his attention. "Are you okay?"

He flinched when I put my hand on his shoulder, then curtly nodded. "I'm fine. It's just... Dad won't like my grades. Neither will Mom."

I shook my head. "It can't be that bad. You always answer questions well when you're called on. Plus, I'm pretty sure you did well on the last English test."

Unlike me.

A bitter smile spread on my face at the thought.

Luckily, Kyle took it as a sign of encouragement. He grabbed my hand and slid it onto his desk. "Thanks, I needed that. Listen, about that―"

"I told you, it's fine. You're making up for it now, which is more than enough," I reiterated, taking my hand away. "Don't worry about it."

"Ah... okay. Well, I'm gonna go see what my parents want. See ya." He slipped out the chair and waltzed to his parents' side.

His father waved to me before staring daggers into Kyle's head. After he talked to the woman next to him, whose face wrinkled as soon as he spoke, they left with Kyle in tow. They must be scolding him. Can't be helped, I guess.

I leaned my chin on my palm as my advisor conversed with other students' parents. Not far off, the students huddled around their tables. Even from here I could see how nervous most of them were. Fidgeting, glancing around, shaking―they exhibited anxiety similar to a juvenile waiting to receive to go on trial. My eyes scanned the room one last time before darting to where my phone rested.

Flipping it open, the first thing I saw was a message notification from Dad.

'Traffic's bad, but I'll be there in fifteen minutes tops.'

'Got it. Thanks for coming!'

Once I hit 'send', I waited a bit for his response. Then stuffed the phone back in my pocket after nothing came. I've already done the homework for next week. Now what?

Guess I'll check on Kyle.

With that, I set off to find the cinnamon-and-paprika headed boy. Something about their expressions, plus what Kyle said about them before, didn't sit well with me. So I hopped out my chair and followed suit.

Both sides of the hallway were empty, making me sigh. They might've left already, right?

Voices to my left proved otherwise.

"―ridiculous."

I sneaked closer until I was inches away from the corner where they stood.

"You should've done better," a man scolded, words clearer now.

Their shadows danced on the floor, near the trophy shelves. The swift movements caught my words' attention. The inky scribbles drifted to the three silhouettes while I clung to the wall. Now would be a good time to get cursed with invisibility as well.

"I did my best," Kyle mumbled, voice soft as cotton. "People make mistakes, okay?"

A click of the tongue. Kyle's mother's sharp remarks sliced through the tension. "Not this family, and certainly not this 'Ziva' girl. She's ranked number one in this godforsaken school. That used to be your spot!"

The man sighed before scratching what sounded like his scalp. "Exactly. We have a reputation to maintain. I'd rather it not be smothered by your disgraceful grades. Maybe we should home-school you, instead? That'll straighten you up."

His partner chuckled low. "Sounds perfect. Kyle's rebellious stage has lasted far too long."

"No, I don't want to!" Kyle stomped his foot at their words. "Neither of you ever pay attention to my needs, and you call yourselves my parents? Since you're so disgusted with some C's and B's, how about you just disown me?"

There are parents like this? So cold and demanding.

The memory of Kyle's confession came to mind. So this is what he meant. I squeezed my arm, glowering at the tile floor. No, this won't do.

After shuffling my feet together, I took a deep breath and stepped forward. All of them snapped their focus to me, wide-eyed. Kyle's face was arranged into one of utter detest. Yet when he saw me, it shifted to relief. He even let a small smile show.

"E-Excuse me," I began while keeping a steady gaze, "I'd rather you not compare your son to me. He and I are two different people with different circumstances. Please, don't put me on a pedestal just because I do well."

The woman glared at me once she registered my spoken words, crossing her arms in an attempt to intimidate me. "Thank you for your input, but it isn't necessary." Arched brows twitching, she pursed her lips. "This is none of your concern."

I gritted my teeth as notes swirled up my arms. "It is when my name is exchanged during your quarrel. Why are you forcing my friend to be someone he isn't?" I shook my head, cheeks hot. "People run out of steam, they get frustrated, they cry... and your constant controlling nature doesn't help."

For a few moments, they were silent. Kyle's mother tapped her pedicured nail on the glass surface of the glass box covering the trophies. Next to her, his father pushed his spectacles up.

"What disrespect," he commented, fists clenched. "If I had a child like you, I'd―"

A hand landed on my shoulder. I looked up to see Dad offering a strained smile. "That's enough."

"Dad?" I looked to him, then to the phone in my pocket. Between eavesdropping and standing up for Kyle, I'd somehow forgotten Dad was on his way. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I heard your little voice getting loud." He laughed, then grinned at me. "Sweetie, I know you want to help your friend out but, that was rude. I think an apology sounds good, how about you?"

"But―"

"No 'but's. Now, Mr. and Ms... Buckingham, I know you want your child to reach his highest potential, but academics isn't all there is to the world. I hear he's very good at art."

Ms. Buckingham tightened her fists while staring at Kyle. "Art means nothing in a practical world. That won't pay the bills."

"It's stupid to pressure your son like that. Why not let him enjoy what he likes to do?"

I nodded, glad my dad could see where I was coming from.

"Still," he continued before ruffling my hair, "my kid's a little rowdy so forgive her for not knowing her place. Go on, Z."

"S-Sorry." I looked to Kyle expecting disappointment. He shook his head instead. For some reason, I didn't dare glance at his parents. Simply being in their presence made me fidget. Dad standing by my side gave me a bump of confidence, though.

"How dare you question the way we raise our children?" Ms. Buckingham swooshed her violet scarf behind her.

Dad tilted his head. "No, we weren't."

"I swear, this neighbourhood has the worst community," Mr. Buckingham muttered, sighing.

Let's just pretend I didn't hear that. As for my meal, today would be 'apple'. A nutritious fruit, the apple was ripe with vitamins and now, perfect for my appetite. I plucked the inky word from my scramble and guided it to my mouth.

Dad looked at me, wide eyes following my hands. Then, he coughed to bring their concentration back to him. "Anyways, sorry for the disturbance." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Have a nice day."

The moment we turned away, Kyle chuckled.

Even if he was in trouble, the guy still had the nerve to laugh it off. I, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. While Dad my mind wandered to the bouquet of facts opening in my head.

The largest apple crop in the U.S. was 277.3 million, harvested in 1998.

Apples ripen faster when they aren't refrigerated.

More importantly, scriptures from the bible rattled in my head.

[In neglecting the tree of life, of which he was allowed to eat, and eating of the tree of knowledge, which was forbidden, Adam plainly showed a contempt of what God had bestowed on him, and a desire for what God did not see fit to give him.]

Keeping my eyes glued to the floor, I whispered, "The tree of knowledge. Could that mean..."

Dad brought me back to class before I could think of an answer. Is this a punishment? Some kind of lesson? I didn't ask to eat words!

Yet even as I carelessly stuffed them into my mouth day after day, I couldn't help but think of Dad's confusion. How he had no clue what a chrysanthemum was. Was that a coincidence?

Don't think too much. He's just forgettful.

"In the beginning, your daughter's doing exceptionally well this term. Although, she's been slacking as of late..." Ms. Flores' stare snapped me back to reality.

We stood in front of her while most of the other families headed out. Her desk was cluttered with envelopes and letters, all engraved with her graceful handwriting. As if ink decided to tango on everything she wrote. Her words danced in a slanted line, tracing the dates and times of historic events.

I pulled at the hem of my shirt, looking away from the cluttered desk as well as my responsibilities. Tears began to blur my vision.

This is going to take a while.

When Dad ruffled my hair, however, I somehow knew everything would turn out alright.