My name is Jeremy. I’m in third grade and unlike other kids, I love going to school. I mean, what’s not to love? Third grade isn’t particularly challenging, and I get to spend lots of time playing with my classmates.
Perhaps my overconfidence and lax attitude are the reasons I keep having to repeat the year. It’s hard for me to understand, as I feel like I do rather well on the schoolwork. I even help the other kids and let them copy the answers. Regardless, every September my classmates move up to the next grade, while I remain in the third.
My parents never really saw this as an issue. Whenever I complained, they’d say that as long as I kept learning and putting in effort, I could do anything I put my mind to. It’s not like my parents don’t care about me; we spend a great deal of time together and have a rather positive relationship. My father is a self-employed mechanic, so I don’t see him very often. My mother, on the other hand, is a homemaker and is always waiting for me when I get home from school.
She really does her best to take care of me. She cooks all the meals, sets out my clothes for the day, and buys me all the latest video games. I’ve boasted about them at school, and some kids have expressed their interest in coming over to play. However, my mother says it isn’t a good idea.
“Why not?” I asked her one day, after she’d said my new friend John couldn’t come over, “Why can’t I ever have friends over from school?”
She frowned.
“It’s not like that, Jeremy,” she said, poking at the chicken in the pan, “It’s just better this way. We don’t want any trouble.”
I never really understood what she meant. Perhaps she was afraid that one of the kids would break something in our house, or maybe she was concerned about any allergies they might have and didn’t want to risk hurting them. Either way, I was never allowed to have guests.
This pained me, of course. Other kids in my class would constantly talk about their weekend plans and discuss going to the movies together or taking a trip to the zoo with their families. I was never allowed to do this either, despite repeatedly pestering my mother for permission.
“No, Jeremy, it’s better if you don’t,” she’d just say, shaking her head, “Just stay out of trouble.”
Trouble. Trouble, trouble, trouble. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into by going to the movies with my friends? Was she afraid I’d get kidnapped? Or that I’d choke on some popcorn?
She’d never tell me the reason, but always tried her best to ensure I was entertained enough on my own. That’s partly why I had my own TV and a growing stack of video games. Still, if you’ve ever been unlucky enough to feel lonely, you know this isn’t quite enough.
I got left behind again this year. Surprise, surprise. Except this time around I didn’t mind it as much. You see, a girl named Rosaline was put in my class. She was absolutely beautiful. Her eyes were a deep sea of blue and her face was framed with ringlets of auburn hair. I introduced myself immediately and we spent the lunch break together. She told me she played video games as well, and that was the moment I decided to completely disregard my mother’s warnings and asked her if she wanted to come over to play.
She agreed and I jumped for joy. Since it was the lunch break, we decided to cut class for the rest of the day and walk back to mine. I knew my mother would notice, but I figured there wasn’t much that she could do. This was the first time I’d ever brought one of my friends home, and I prayed it would make my mother see that there was no harm in it.
We reached my house rather quickly, and I mashed the doorbell with my finger, anticipation building up inside my chest.
“Jeremy?” the door flung open, “What are you doing ho-?”
My mother trailed off when she saw Rosaline.
“W-who’s this?” she began, a crease forming in her forehead, “Jeremy, we’ve spoken about this…”
Rosaline cleared her throat.
“Hi! I’m Rosaline!” she announced, “It’s very nice to meet you, Jeremy’s mom!”
But my mother didn’t look at all pleased. She ushered us inside and gestured at me to follow her.
“You can’t do this,” she said sternly, shutting the kitchen door behind us, “Why are you home so early?”
I put on what I’d hoped was a devious smile.
“We decided to cut class,” I said smugly, “It’s only for today.”
She looked taken aback.
“You can’t cut class!” she exclaimed, “What about the other kids?”
I stared at her.
“What about them? They stayed behind.”
With that, the landline rang in the hallway and my mother brushed past me to answer it.
“Hello?” I heard her utter, followed by a series of ‘mhms’ and ‘ahas’, “Unfortunately, he wasn’t feeling too well. I’m sorry, he should have let someone know.”
She put the receiver down and shot me a reproving look.
“That was the school,” she hissed, and then turned to Rosaline, “Come dear, I’ll drive you back to class.”
“What? No!” I protested, grabbing Rosaline by the hand, and dragging her upstairs to my room, “We’re going to play video games!”
“Oh, no you’re not!”
Panic-stricken, I watched as my mother galloped up the stairs and grabbed Rosaline by the arm. Rosaline cried out and hurtled to my side, desperately trying to yank her arm free.
“Please let me go,” she squealed, “I want to play video games with Jeremy…”
My mother hesitated and loosened her grip. She stood motionless on the stairs, studying both of us with an expression of disbelief.
“I can’t possibly allow this; I have to call your parents.”
She started back down the stairs.
“No, you don’t have to,” Rosaline called after her.
My mother paused, clutching the railing for support.
“I really struggled with math last year,” Rosaline piped up again, “My parents said I should spend more time with my teacher.”