I stared in disbelief at the test paper in my hand. It felt so alien, it was cold, stiff, and strangely heavy. On it, in big, angry red ink, was a grade that seemed to mock me: a lonely, pathetic D-.
I kept staring at it, my brain refusing to process the information. The numbers swam before my eyes. It had to be a mistake. A typo. Maybe the teacher, Mr. Davis, had meant to write a B+ and his hand had slipped. Or maybe he'd picked up someone else's test by accident. That had to be it. I'd never gotten a D- in my life. I wasn't a D- kind of person.
A nervous laugh escaped my lips. I looked around the classroom, a sea of bent heads and furiously scribbling pens. No one seemed to notice my silent panic. What would my parents say? I gripped the paper tighter, the sharp edge of the corner digging into my palm. I needed to talk to Mr. Davis. To point out the obvious error. Yes! That's what this was, an error.
My eyes fell on the top of the page again. "Javier Martínez," it read in my neat handwriting. The title, "Algebra II: Functions and Relations," was clearly printed. And below it, that hateful red letter, with a cruel little minus sign tacked on. It was mine. All mine.
Wondering what my dad would say if he saw this, a hollow, sinking feeling settled in my stomach. The room, the sounds—all of it felt impossibly far away. I was alone with the paper, the mark a brand on my chest. It wasn't a mistake. It was real. A cold, sharp dread settled in my gut.
I barely heard what Mr. Davis was saying. "…Friday afternoon. Remember to bring your camping bags and other essentials. Class dismissed," he sat behind his desk.
At lunch in the cafeteria, I plopped my tray on the table. I had very little appetite. "This year's field trip is going to be so good," CJ said excitedly.
"What trip?" I asked confused. When had they said anything about a trip? "The camping trip Mr. Davis was talking about. Are you okay?" Chelsea asked, a worried look on her face.
"Yeah," I replied. She didn't look convinced. "What's so great about a camping trip anyway? The mosquitoes, animals, everything, " I asked. While it would serve as an excuse to be away from the house, I wasn't so enthused about it.
"Nothing really. Except Kim," CJ replied, staring at the girl in question with a grin on his face. I looked over and saw a pretty girl sitting at a few tables away. Oh, that Kim. I remembered her, she was kinda nice.
"The only reason you wanna go for this trip is so you could make out with some girl," Chelsea looked revolted but she looked hurt deep down. I wondered what had happened between them.
Well, she had herself to blame. CJ wasn't the type of guy for her. He didn't like the strings attached to relationships and she was a romantic, believing in true love and happily ever afters. I still couldn't help but feel bad for her, she was my friend after all.
Changing the topic I said, "I thought we weren't supposed to go into the woods late at night. You know, the birds and all." CJ scoffed, "Who's scared of some silly birds. Come on, we're past that." He stuffed a French fry into his mouth.
I looked at Chelsea for some support but she was still in a daze. I looked down at my tray and grabbed my chocolate milk.
I had a bad feeling about that camping trip. I didn't know why. I sat on the bench waiting for the bus. I scrolled through TikTok, to pass the time.
Some time passed and I developed the feeling of being watched. Looking up, I caught sight of a strange-looking bird perched atop a trash can on the other side of the street.
Larger than a pigeon, almost the same size as a full-grown chicken. It's talons we're gripped on a rat as it struggled to escape its captor's cage. But what caught my eye were its strange feathers. Gold in color, they glistened in the sunlight. It looked more like metal than feathers.
The bird looked at me. It's blood red eyes scrutinizing my body like it's its next meal. But it seemed to go deeper than my flesh, into my very soul. Its eyes lit up in a strange fervor.
Dropping the rat it had lost interest in, it stared at me. Moments passed like this and without any warning it took off, darting straight at me, baring its talons to strike at me.
Instinctively, I raised my arms to shield my face but the claws never came. All I heard was the screech of tires. I looked up and saw my bus, the bird on the floor a few meters away from it. It looked like it got hit by a bus.
It stood up, looked at me, and took off. My racing heart only calmed down when I sat on the bus. The driver's voice zoomed over me,"…crazy bird."