Page 29 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
Between second and third hour, David approaches me.
“Hey, did you study for the English test today, by any chance?” he asks.
I shake my head. I barely have the energy to shower these days, let alone use my brain.
“Shit,” David says. “Me either. Totally forgot it was today. Want to cram at lunch?”
“No, thanks.” I shrug. “I have to...” I trail off. God, usually I’mgood at coming up with excuses, but my brain is just not working lately. Way too foggy. “I have to do my homework,” I finally say, then turn around and walk away before he can get too suspicious.
When English comes around, our tests are already on our desks. I walk in and confidently start filling out the top of the Scantron, then get to reading the test questions. They’re way too easy. It’s so simple, it’s boring. So boring I could do it in my sleep...
I fill it out like muscle memory, almost like I’m in a trance.
I don’t realize anything’s wrong until the bell signaling the end of class wakes me up, and I’m horrified to see an almost completely empty Scantron in front of me.
I slept through the test.
12
When Your Fists Hurt from Clenching Them So Hard
Anger
Yami goes home with Bo today, so she can’t shield me from Mami the way she usually tries to. Good, honestly. I don’t need her protection. Everyone worries about me too much. They’d all be better off if they’d just give it a rest.
The second I’m let out of detention, I go straight to my mom’s car. I’m not scared to face her. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. Maybe if she has to see me after detention without Yami to cushion it, she’ll actually get mad.
I make no apologies when I get in the car. I want to see what she’ll say.
“Mijo, I talked to your counselor today.” She sounds more worried than angry, so I’m really not loving this start. At least she decided to have this conversation while she’s driving, so I don’t have to deal with thatlookshe always gives me.
“Whatever Dr. Lee said, it’s—”
“Yourschoolcounselor,” she interrupts.
Great. It’s not like Mami needed another reason to get on my ass about my grades or anything.
“It’s fine, I have it handled,” I lie.
“Do you need a tutor? Is there anything I can do to help?”
I frown. We both know she has no way of helping me with Calc II. “I did the math. As long as I keep acing the tests, my grades won’t dip below the scholarship level. I’m doing just fine, I promise.” I intentionally leave out the part about me failing the test today, which kind of throws my whole plan on its head.
“Well then, what’s going on with your grades?” she asks, and even though she’s looking at the road and not at me, there’s concern etched into her features. I shift in my seat so I’m facing the window instead of her. “Mijo?”
“I have it handled!” I snap, expecting—hoping—she’ll blow up right back.
Instead, she just lets out a shaky breath. “I’m going to get you a tutor.”
“But I don’t need—”
“I’m your mother, and I’m telling you you’re getting a tutor.”
At that, the little bubble I usually push down bursts.
“You don’t know what’s best for me!” I whirl around so I’m looking right at her, and she finally snaps her head in my direction.
“No,youdon’t know what’s best for you!” she yells back, which feeds the anger. I’ve been waiting for a fight formonths, and I’m finally close to getting one.
