Page 3 of Changing Grades

“I don’t have anything to prove to anyone I went to high school with,” I scoffed.

“Maybe not,” Court agreed with a shrug, “But maybe you need to prove something to you.”

I narrowed my eyes at the man who was speaking way too much fucking truth. He walked away and let his words sink in while Lawson gave me a weighted look. I didn’t need to be the former Valedictorian of my class, which I wasn’t anyway, to interpret it.

Hell, I wasn’t much of anything in high school. I had a few friends, people from my neighborhood, the same one filled with struggling single moms just like my mom. They tried their best, but there was a huge socioeconomic gap amongst the students.

I felt the judgement from the popular kids in school because I didn’t give a fuck about name brands or how rich someone’s daddy was. Those same kids were probably sure I wouldn’t amount to anything.

The thing is, what they never could have predicted, was I had a plan. I always knew I wasn’t going to go to college, and I was okay with it. It’s one of the reasons I made sure to focus when it came to our Career Tech class. I needed a skill that I could hone because I was going to get my mom and sister out of the neighborhood and make sure mom didn’t have to work so hard.

It didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would. I love working with my hands and my woodworking skills have only gotten better.

Now I’m about to face the people who thought their big plans of four-year universities and big-wig jobs were better than an honest wage for an honest day’s work. I’m sure for some of them, they’re exactly where they want to be and will continue to look down on me, just like they did then.

They won’t care that I bought my mom a house and then restored it before moving on to my own house. They won’t care that I’ve been helping to put my sister, Salem, through college and she just started her senior year. They won’t care that I can build something out of nothing using my hands and wood. Or that people want me to make them those things and are willing to pay for them.

I slam the door to my truck with a little too much force, annoyed at myself for the need to be here at all. As much as I was dreading this, with every step I take toward the gym something feels lighter in my chest. It makes no damn sense, but now I feel like I need to get inside even faster.

What the fuck is that about?

When I step into the vestibule, I notice Sharon, who I would recognize anywhere, sitting at a table covered in name tags. Sharon had a lot of people fooled. She seemed sweet on the outside, but she was always rotten on the inside. She looked down on me because I didn’t live in the same neighborhood as she did or because I usually had one pair of shoes to get me through the entire year. Which, by the way, was enough for me.

She was the kind of girl to wear a different pair of shoes every day at school, all to match her outfits, which had to be color coordinated from her clothes to her purse and her accessories. I shudder to think about the kind of guy she ended up with. She dated one of the football players back in the day, but I doubt she stuck with him. She probably wanted a bigger fish to hook.

Poor guy.

Well, maybe not, because if he’s the kind of guy to stand her then he’s probably not much better.

Don’t be as bad as they were to you. It’s not worth it.

Fuck. Thanks conscience. It’s almost a shame my mom raised me to be better than that. I wish I could be petty for a little while longer.

Sharon narrows her eyes at me, and I smirk. I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt underneath my leather jacket. I’m not here to impress anyone, but my jacket is handmade and fucking gorgeous, butter soft leather. If she bothers to look past who she thinks I was back then to see who I am now she might actually be impressed.

Her eyes rake over me and I almost shudder. I’ve grown into my body in the last 15 years. I was a little lanky in high school, more height than bulk, but working with my body has changed that. Not that I’ll be letting Sharon closer than she is right now to find out exactly how much I’ve filled in. No thank you.

“Griffin Welch,” my voice is clipped as I watch her eyes widen.

She reaches for a nametag and starts to hand it to me as she clears her throat. “It’s so good to see you again, Griffin,” she coos.

“I’m sure it’s not, Sharon,” my voice is smooth and not as biting as my words, not even close. She blinks at me and starts to sputter, but I shrug casually and grin. “I’m not one for fakes and liars. Never was.”

When I start to move away from the table, her mouth drops open, and I barely stop myself from barking out a laugh. This is probably bordering on cruel considering how much enjoyment I’m getting from it. Is that going to stop me? Hell no.

The moment I walk into the gym and take in all the decorations, it reminds me an awful lot of the homecomings and proms I didn’t go to. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get a date, I probably could have, but Mom needed me to watch Salem and I wasn’t going to put her in a bind. Not when she’s done so much for me.

I was always more than happy to stay home and not put on some suit and go to a dance with awkward, hormone filled teenagers trying to look cool. Not my scene.

Spending a night with Salem was always better. She was always making up stories and acting them out for me on weekend nights. I should have known she’d be a theater major and want to make it her life’s work.

My chest tightens with pride knowing I’ve helped my sister do something I never had the hope to do. She’s getting her education and she’s thriving because of it. I can only hope that continues for the rest of her life. I desperately want her to be happy.

I look around the room and don’t see a single person I’m interested in talking to. I had a few friends back in high school, but I don’t see any of them. I’m already hooked up with them on social media and know what they’re up to in their lives. Maybe I’m too early and they’ll show up before I blow this fucking popsicle stand.

I should have asked if they were coming, but I was worried I wouldn’t come if they said no.

Everyone has fake smiles plastered on their faces while trying to look far more important than they probably are. It reminds me of how they were back then.

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