On the verge of failing his senior year of high school, Armando is set up with a tutor to get his grades back up. His tutor, Brian, happens to be the quiet kid that he never knew existed until now. And as the two begin to form a deep connection with...
welcome to 'Something Different'! hope you'll enjoy and stick around for this!!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Armando Dominguez
As I sat in the chair at the office, I pulled out a Sharpie and began to tag the blue plastic chair below me. I wrote my name, Armando, in curvy letters.
“Mr. Dominguez!” A guy yelled. I looked up and saw my counselor, Mr. Carver, with his arms crossed over his chest and glaring at me. “Come with me.”
I put the marker away in my pocket and stood up from my seat, grateful that I could finally stretch my leg and ass from that uncomfortable chair. Mr. Carver walked us to his office at the end of the hall. He sat me in a seat as he went behind his desk.
“You’re probably wondering why I called you in here.” He spoke.
“You’re finally quitting?!” I eagerly asked.
“No, Mr. Dominguez. But I admire your enthusiasm.” He reached into his pile of papers on his desk and pulled one out, handing it to me.
“I don’t see an issue,” I said, looking at my report card. “My grades are fine.”
“Ah, but that’s the problem. I don’t want you to have average grades, Armando. I want you to at least get a few C’s for your last semester of high school.” He said. He adjusted his round glasses on his nose.
“I was told I needed at least a D average to graduate. I’ve kept that since freshman year.” I replied.
“Still, we want to encourage our students to not settle for average. And the school board voted last week to raise the minimum requirements. Even though you won’t be here next year, imagine how schools will feel, knowing that you earned a now defunct average.” Mr. Carver said.
I groaned loudly and almost crumbled the paper in my hands. “I’ve told you in the past, I don’t plan on continuing my education!”
“That’s what you say now. But even going to a trade school can open doors for you. Do you really want to stay in such a place and continue the cycle of poverty?” My counselor asked.
“A higher education has never interested me.” I said. By this point, I began to get irritated.
“I figured you would say that. I spoke to the principal and she agreed to use you as an example.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You have three months until June to get a few C’s in your classes. Otherwise, you won’t be allowed to walk the stage or receive a diploma.”
“You can’t do this!” I yelled, standing up and clenching my fists.
“Actually, I can and did.” Mr. Carver replied. “No more slacking around. Not only that, but you’ll also be banned from any senior activities, including prom and GradNite.”
