Page 144 of Fervency Love

“Abigail Brooks.” My heart is about to jump out of my chest. “Math, B, language, A. Exempt from the oral exams.”

Everyone’s eyes are now on me.

“Drama queen!” Catherine calls from the second row.

I release the air I’ve been holding the entire time.

“Professor, isn’t that a mistake?”

“No, Gail, it’s an A. Exempt from the oral exams.”

Holy crap, if I could, I’d start jumping and squealing with joy right now. So it does work, what they write in books. “Thoughts become things.” “You are the creator of your life.” “You can achieve literally anything you dream of.” It’s probably from Joseph Murphy and hisThe Power of Your Subconscious Mind. I decided on it at the beginning, did the work, and nothing could harm my effort. I feel like the universe deliberately made fun of me with that first bench in front of the invigilators, just to emphasize even more that nothing is impossible.

I take out my phone and text my mom.

Language—A. Exempt from the oral exams. Math—B.

The response comes almost immediately:

I knew it! You’re amazing! I love you!

That’s interesting. Now I’m amazing, and the whole time they were making it difficult for me. The oral exam is in a few days. Connor passed math with a B, barely passed the language exam, but still. We’re in the clear now.

My dad’s sister is waiting for me outside the school.

“How was it, Abby?”

“I passed, thank you.”

“Congratulations, dear! I’m glad. Do you want to come by for lunch?”

“Thanks, auntie, but no. I’ve got to go. I have plans.”

It feels awkward to refuse. She came here specifically to support me. But it shouldn’t be her here. How is it that I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that my parents are never there when I need them? Mom constantly thinks that if she gives memoney, everything will be sorted. Interesting. My grandma, on the other hand, shows love by making sure no one goes hungry and cold. I think that’s what she lacked in her childhood. And my mom shows love by sending money?

They were never there for me. As a child, I always stayed at my grandma and grandpa’s; sometimes the other grandpa took care of us, but he just sat in front of the TV and served us lunch when the time came. We had to eat everything. He got annoyed about silly things, just like my father. The bread was sliced crookedly, or I brought in some snow from outside. Bullshit, but it stuck. I should be grateful—and I am to some extent—that my parents want to provide us with a decent life, but in all of this, they forgot that a child also needs interest, attention, and appreciation. Money doesn’t compensate for all needs.

I solve the equation. It’s super simple, so I take on the extra one to try to get an A. When it comes time to discuss the solution, the math teacher vigorously tries to prove that I did something wrong. She does it so brazenly that not only I notice it but the second math teacher on the board points it out to her.

“But, Monique, she already mentioned that at the beginning. In my opinion, she answered all the questions. The extra ones as well.”

I see how the esteemed Professor Monique twists inside upon hearing these words. Why is she picking on me? She’s been giving me a hard time for the last four years.

“Alright, then, thank you. You’ll get your result in a minute.”

I force a smile and leave.Bitch,I think. That’s been my whole life. It was the same in primary school. I wrote flawlessly, my friend—a teacher’s pet—did too, but she got an A+, and I got a B. Of course, I argued about it. Maybe that’s why theycouldn’t stand me. I wouldn’t let anyone keep me down, and I certainly didn’t show it if someone did. I hid behind a mask of smarminess and overconfidence. During the exams at the end of primary school, the teacher also told me that she wouldn’t give me a B because I didn’t deserve it. But I passed the entrance exam to high school with an A. Idiot!

After a few hours, it turns out I got a B in the end. Now I’m free! It’s off to college now. But I don’t intend to torture myself again. I know what I want to do. I’ve been contemplating my choice for a long time. I’m interested in film, psychology, and photography. I also like writing, but more for myself. I decide to find a short-term program, like film production, a unified four-year master’s degree. And that’s the idea. After a school like that I’ll be a Master of Arts and a film producer. Fair enough for me. I also have to pretend that I’m trying to get into the full-time program, which I never really cared about. I don’t intend to waste more years. I want to achieve success, not spend weeks within university walls. For peace of mind, however, I decide to apply for acting at Crown. I don’t know if it’s a good idea; it seems I’m too shy for it. I hate being in the spotlight. But nothing else comes to mind, and the idea was once suggested by my aunt, my dad’s youngest sister. She told me I should be an actress because I’m great at imitating others. Plus, my gesturing is exceptional. So I thought:Why not?

I like this aunt. You can always have a chat with her, and she always has fantastic clothes because she works in an expensive boutique. Sometimes she brings us something extravagant.

Connor went with me to the audition. Even though I didn’t care how it would go, I was still nervous. It’s acting, after all. They checked hearing, rhythm, smile, dance talent, and fitness. Then there was the acting part.

The first part went flawlessly. I have a smooth, nice smile. I can repeat sounds by ear, make a star, stand and walk on my hands. I completed all the tasks.

The scene I had to perform in front of the board was to convince them there was a fire. They told me to be persuasive.That’s some bullshit,I thought. I lost all interest. It went okay, I guess, but I think I didn’t convince them enough because I didn’t even believe it myself. Then I had to sing. I got so stressed, I forgot the lyrics. They told me the results would come the next day.

“There you are, Connor!”

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