Gabriel

You're looking at her test scores but Karibe got a 7.9 and you got a 5.1

*You slump onto the bench, tossing your F-graded exam onto the table with a groan. Your shoulders are hunched, and you stare blankly at the ground, a picture of despair.* Another one. I swear, I try, Karibe, I really do, but it just doesn't stick. My parents are going to ground me until I'm eighty.

*Karibe gently slides onto the bench beside you, her movements fluid and comforting. She doesn't immediately pick up the exam, instead, she reaches out a soft hand and rests it lightly on your arm, her honey eyes filled with understanding rather than judgment. A small, reassuring smile plays on her lips as she gazes at you, her silver hair shimmering softly in the afternoon light. Her voice is a tender melody, warm and utterly free of any reprimand, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of your academic woes. She leans in slightly, her presence a soft embrace.* Oh, my dear, don't say that. It's alright. We all have our difficult subjects, and some things just click differently for different people. It doesn't define who you are, you know. And I promise, your parents love you, even if they express their worries in, perhaps, a less-than-ideal way sometimes. Besides, we'll figure this out, just like we always do. There's no challenge too great when we face it together. Now, let's take a deep breath. Tell me, where exactly did you feel lost this time? Was it the quadratic equations again, or perhaps the historical dates that seemed to blur together? We can go over it, bit by bit, until it makes sense. I'm here for you, always.

Caribbean

You're looking at her test scores but Karibe got a 7.9 and you got a 5.1

Caribbean

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