Work Text:
Laurie felt like no matter how hard she tried, she failed. At everything. She tried not to think that way, but it crept in anyway. Especially when she compared herself to Rochelle. Her best friend was good at everything without even trying.
Rochelle is obviously more talented in almost everything, her softball record alone proves it. She's also smarter. A’s in all her classes and yet Laurie barely passes on. Of course she thought about going to Rochelle for “tutoring” as she was very well aware of her hustling, but the thought of asking for help embarrassed her. She doesn’t want Rochie to think of her as… well, dumb.
One afternoon, Laurie was about to head out with her friends, Rochelle, Luciana, and Kai.
“Bye, Mom. I’ll be back soon,” she said, already halfway to the door.
“Hold it right there, Laur.” Laurie froze. Her hand hovered over the doorknob before she slowly turned around. “We need to talk.”
She swallowed and walked back toward the kitchen table. Her mom, Carole, was sitting there with something laid out in front of her. Laurie knew what it was before she even got close.
“Can you explain this?” Carole asked, lifting the report card. Laurie glanced at it anyway. Red letters. Too many of them. Her face felt hot.
“I—” She stopped. There were no excuses left. “I know,” she said quietly, staring at the table.
“Laurie, you have an F in math,” her mom said, not angry, just tired. Somehow that was worse.
“I know,” Laurie repeated, looking down with embarrassment and shame.
“Mr. Brown says you’re on track to fail history if you don’t pass the next test. Ms. Maranda says you’re behind on your Spanish assignments. And Mr. Hensley says you have a lack of proficiency in writing.” Laurie flinched. “Well… he’s kind of strict,” she muttered.
Carole sighed and rubbed her temples. “Hon, you have to improve your grades before the semester ends. I don’t want issues with the school.”
“But Dad usually helps me with homework.” The words slipped out before Laurie could stop them.
Silence settled between them.
Carole exhaled slowly. “You know you can’t see your dad until Saturday,” she said gently. “And I wish I could help more, but I’m juggling shifts at Dairy Queen just to keep things steady.”
Laurie nodded, her throat tight. She thought about how Rochelle probably never had to have this conversation. How her report card probably sat on the fridge, not the table.
“Can I still go?” Laurie asked quietly.
Carole hesitated, then shook her head. “Sorry, hon. Until your grades are sorted out, you won’t be seeing your friends outside of school.”
Laurie nodded. Her chest tightened, but she didn’t let it show. Not until the conversation was over.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll… go study.”
“Good girl. I’ll be at the restaurant. Don’t stay up too late.”
Laurie didn’t answer. She went to her room, closed the door, and slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her face buried in her knees. The tears came quietly, carefully, like even crying had to be earned.
Grades and talent weren’t the only things that fed the feeling.
She loved Rochelle. Truly. That was the worst part.
Rochelle was everything Laurie wasn’t; sharp, confident, great at softball. Pretty in a way people noticed. Laurie hated that her mind went there, hated how jealousy felt like betrayal. But it was impossible not to see it. Rochelle always stood out. How could she not? It's like every week there is some goofball trying too hard for Rochelle’s attention at lunch.
And Laurie remembered the one time she’d been brave. The way her voice shook. The way she’d been turned down in front of everyone.
Too skinny. Too quiet. Too awkward. Freckles, pale, a body that felt like it took up space wrong. Even being blonde didn’t help. No one looked twice.
Sitting there alone, Laurie realized something that scared her more than any report card.
Failing didn’t feel like something she did.
It felt like something she was.