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Chapter 33: Chuck the Chuckling Lemon
A fifty. I got a fifty on the most important assignment for my Human Rights class. A big fat F. With shaky fingers, I pulled out my phone to calculate what the average grade for the class would become after this setback. I stared at my screen in disbelief. Seventy two percent. Somehow, I managed to get to my feet and stagger over to Professor Reagan’s desk, feeling sparks of panic light up in my lower abdomen. “Professor, can I talk to you for a second?” I didn’t even bother trying to sound calm and collected, too consumed by the failure marked on my paper. Professor Reagan looked up from where he was bent over working at his desk. “Yes?” “Sir, I was wondering if you would look over my assignment again? Reconsider my score perha—” “No,” he interrupted me. “I’m not in the habit
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