Been Here All Along Read Free Page B

close to failing English, even though I always got a C+ from Mrs. Masterson. But since it was the last class of the day and I had basketball practice, there hasn’t really been time to talk.
    Unfortunately, today all the class periods were a couple of minutes shorter to make room for the pep rally earlier, so when the bell rings, it kind of throws me off. I’m usually ready to sprint out of this classroom in fear that Ms. Gupta is going to want to talk. She catches me, of course, since I’m one of the last people walking out of the room.
    â€œKyle?” she calls out. She has a nice voice. I really like it, actually. It’s got just this little hint of an Indian accent, and she sounds all smooth and smart.
    â€œI don’t wanna be late for practice,” I say, just barely turning around.
    â€œI know, I know. Big game coming up. But just one second.”
    I turn fully around and make sure I don’t meet her eye. I’m playing cool, pretending to be a tree. That usually works pretty well for me.
    â€œYeah, can’t disappoint the team,” I say, when she fails to continue. I sneak a glance at her desk and notice she’s going through some papers. Probably the essays we handed in last week.
    She grimaces and shows me the 60 percent on the top of my paper. “Did you understand any of the instructions?”
    I take the essay from her and look at all the red slashes through words and sentences, different call-outs that I can’t actually read right now because my brain is so foggy and nervous.
    I hand it back to her and squeeze the straps of my backpack. “I worked really hard,” I finally say. I sound so whiny.
    â€œI think there’s more to it than just needing to work hard. Some of this is—” She pauses, skimming the page again. “You have moments where I can see how smart you are, and there are other sentences where you obviously let spell-check change every word and it turned into gibberish.”
    â€œSpelling is, like, not my best.” My tongue is heavy in my mouth and my brain is working in slow motion so I can’t even think of the right words.
    â€œIt’s not just the spelling, though. It’s the context and comprehension. There’s so much more going on here.”
    I know she’s trying to make eye contact with me, like we’re supposed to be having some kind of moment. But I can’t. I stare outside and watch a squirrel hop around in a tree. I wouldn’t mind going out there and joining him. Maybe just live in that tree for the rest of my life and learn English through the classroom window.
    â€œI really don’t want you to fail this marking period. Grades are due next week, and you’re right on the cusp. An F isn’t going to look great on your report card.”
    â€œI know,” I say, still watching the little squirrel.
    â€œIt could mean summer school if you don’t pull it together.”
    I wince at the idea of more school. Especially since I found out last week I got accepted into a really prestigious basketball camp for this summer.
    She gives me detailed instructions about what she wants me to do for extra credit, and I make sure I write everything down. I really don’t want to have to worry about this.
    â€œI believe you’re a very smart kid who’s having some problems,” she says after the world’s longest instructions. “We will be able to come up with a solution. You are not a lost cause. I checked your grades, and I see you’ve done just fine in the past.”
    â€œYeah, Mrs. Masterson was a good teacher.”
    She nods distractedly. “I have to wonder if there’s something else going on.”
    â€œSomething else?” I ask.
    â€œA personal problem, maybe? I’m not trying to pry. I want to understand what changed. It might help me.”
    â€œNo,” I say. “Nothing changed.”
    â€œEverything’s good at