Perseverance

Diligence is the mother of good luck.

         -Benjamin Franklin

I walked fast down the hall, my mind heavily clouded as I towed the pitfall of my doom in my backpack. Chatter from the other kids floated around in the air, but I blocked it all out. Preoccupation does that.

“Whoa…” My sister Britney’s eyes widened as they scanned my bad marks. “You’ve really gone downhill, Carey.” I groaned.  “Yeah, and Mom and Dad won’t hear it from you either.” I took my report card back from Britney, who had this look of pity on her face. “What?”  I snapped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“They’re going to be pissed.”

“Pfft…I know.”

Britney gave me a disapproving look, with – what I thought – a slight tinge of incredulousness. “This French thing even…you said that it’s, like, the easiest class…”

“That was months ago.” I sniped. Britney shot back, “So what do you do when things get hard?” I saw in her eyes mostly conviction, but with a gleam of gleefulness. What is she getting at here? I gave my sister a hard stare. “Look Brit. Just don’t tell...they probably know how bad my grades are." Brit put her hands up. “Okay.” She turned and went upstairs. As I heard the door to her room shut, I was able to breathe easier. I’m always able to when she’s gone, and I’m not even sure if she knows the power she’s got over me.

                                                                             ***

Brit is 18, three years older than me. She is constantly, annoyingly, happy, always bursting with bubbliness.  Brit has the charming persona that everyone loves, that some can only dream of possessing. I used to like it too – it definitely made that inseparable bond between us last for as long as it did when we were younger. We played board games, snuck ice cream after our parents went to bed, exchanged secrets. Nowadays, I don’t tend to tell Brit much. I still love her, but…

Lately there’s been underlying tension between my parents and I, because of my “moodiness,” as Mom put it yesterday when I snapped that I didn’t care after she told me that Brit was having trouble deciding between Carnegie Mellon and UCLA. Mom said I wasn’t being a supportive sister. She forgot that I had just told her that I was bummed because my science teacher dropped a pop quiz on us, and that I was pretty sure I flunked it. Nope, Mom only cared about Brit’s little “crisis.” So, can I really help being snarky?

         Everything has always been hunky- dory for my sister. In school, sports – Brit has the nearly perfect life. So really, she has no reason to ever be mad or angsty, thus, no opportunity for her to step on our parents’ toes. I thought about this as I lay in bed that night. All my life, I have always had to try so much harder than Brit to achieve anything. Things usually turned out okay though, but that changed when I got to high school.
          I knew I was going to be in for rough times the moment I stepped into my algebra class. Earth Science was a complete mystery. I started out alright with History. English gave me a shock – I’ve come to learn that in high school, teachers expect you to dive right into deep analysis and critical thinking. The only manageable class is French. Languages aren’t that hard to learn, but that didn’t help explain how my grade went from an A in the first quarter to a B now. It certainly doesn’t help enhance my other grades; B- for English, C for History, C for science, B for math. English and History used to be B+’s. In middle school, I got A’s in English, even an A+ in eighth grade. It used to be my favorite class.  I’m starting to think maybe it was only my favorite because I was good at it. High school has let me know that I actually stink at writing essays.  

                There was little peace for me outside of school. I joined the volleyball team, figuring I could make use of my abilities from the eighth grade. But in the big leagues, your achievements can end up being reduced to small potatoes once you see what you’ve joined. There were way more girls on the team than there were in middle school – probably because the high school has more students. I had always believed in teams working together, but I guess it’s important to some people to outshine others, because everyone seemed like they were out for themselves.  Nobody ever cheered for a teammate who scored a point. 9 out of 10 times, whenever I tried to go for the ball, someone would swoop in at the last second for her chance at glory. I simply didn’t possess the fierceness one needed to conquer others on the court. I started coming to practice later, or skipped whenever possible. Initially, the coach would remind me, “Try to be on time.” Overtime, she just nodded whenever I ducked in. So she didn’t care if I was there either.

                Brit has the brains. Things just come to her easily. She doesn’t have retention problems like I do – while she reads ahead in math textbooks, my parents would be scratching their heads, wondering how I had completely forgotten how to solve that one homework overnight. Conquering math is a lost cause for me. So is trying to redeem my pride in English, since whatever I say in class is never deep enough to impress the picky Mrs. Berkowitz, who always rebuts, “What does that mean?”  Not everything has to have 10 unseen sides to it, geez. My conflicted thoughts kept me awake at night. At school, I listlessly went through the motions of sitting through lectures, and counted the number of minutes left in science class when I was put to collaborate with geeks who clearly knew what they were talking about. At that point, if I was just getting by in school, that was okay with me, because I was too exhausted to care anymore.

                                                                                                ***

                The salesmen on the T.V screen raved about a $30.95 grill that could also play music. I kept my eyes fixed on him, surpassing the temptation to glance at Dad sitting next to me on the couch. I had shown him and Mom my report card yesterday, and the atmosphere has been very still. I wasn’t going to be the first one to bring it up.

                “What do you think of your grades, Carey?”

                Damn. I turned down the volume on the T.V. “Um...” I hesitated, turning to see my dad’s somber expression. “You know they’re not good. They’re really not.” My stomach started churning. “I know, Dad. It’s just…”

                Dad sighed. “Look, you’re frustrated. Math and the other things aren’t easy. But you can’t get easily defeated. How will you accomplish anything?”

                “But Dad, you know I’m just no good at it now!” My voice got higher. I shook my head hard. “I’m just…” I couldn’t think of any more to say. I laid my head down in my lap. Dad was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “But you won’t know what you’re good at unless you try.”

                “School sucks.” I mumbled. “If I were Brit, then maybe –“

                “Listen to me.” His voice was firm. “You don’t have to be Brit. You can only be yourself, but you should be your best self.” I felt Dad’s hand on my shoulder. “And that means trying your hardest, and pushing yourself. It means not giving up just because you feel nothing will come out of it. You don’t know what you can become. Don’t just sit and do nothing. You only get out…”

                “Ugh…”

                “…what you put into it. Think about that.” Dad patted me on the shoulder, then got up and left. I glumly lifted my head. “Lost,” my favorite show, was now on. I thought about it, gritting my teeth together for a moment.

                And then, I shut off the T.V in a blink. I looked around for that yellow backpack of mine. I had some serious work to do.