He sat in the counselor's office, eyes fixed blankly on the wall as he waited for the guidance counselor to arrive.
'This is really one of my worst days…' he thought, unaware that he was clenching the enrollment forms so tightly they were starting to bend.
"Mr. Morrison?"
He looked up when the counselor entered.
"Sorry for the wait, Mr. Morrison," she said in a sweet, calm voice.
"Dan, ma'am. I'm okay with Dan," he replied flatly.
---
Two weeks ago
Dan's eyes were glued to the card in his hand, his heart sinking as he read the words **"poor academics"** again. His mind raced with what this meant for his future. Disappointment and guilt washed over him like a cold wave.
He hadn't even finished studying there, yet he had always been a good student.
So what went wrong?
He scanned his grades again—lines of sevens staring back at him like a cruel joke. His eyes began to sting, but he forced the tears back, refusing to show weakness. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the disappointment simmered quietly like a pot about to boil over.
Clutching the card, he felt frustration crawl up his chest.
He wanted to fix it.
To do something —anything—
But he didn't know where to start.
His mother's words echoed faintly:
"Don't worry about it, Dan. They're not your real grades."
He knew that was a lie.
These grades were real.
And they reflected him.
He had let himself down.
For a long moment, he stood frozen in his thoughts before finally placing the card on the table. He inhaled deeply and looked up at his mother. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something—anything.
"I… I just want to do better," he whispered.
"I want to prove myself."
---
Dan stepped out of the school building, walking along the street as the words from his meeting with the guidance counselor replayed in his mind.
He stared at the ground, lost in thought.
'Don't worry too much… Just study hard and make it to the top…'
Suddenly, rain poured from the sky without warning, pushed by a harsh wind.
"…"
He stood still for a few seconds, eyes dull, before rushing into the nearest store. He held the documents close, shielding them from the rain. Drops slid down his hair and face as he shook himself dry.
He stayed by the doorway, waiting for the rain to stop. His legs ached. His head throbbed. He had woken up early just to enroll—and walked all the way from home to save money, even though his mother had given him extra.
With a quiet sigh, he lowered himself to the floor, brushing his wet hair back. He leaned against the cold wall, a shiver running up his spine.
Just tell me what you need next.