How Sweet It Is Read Online Free Page B

down on top of the other tests and rushed away.
    “Chloe, wait just a moment, will you?” Mrs. Watley called out.
    She stopped and looked longingly at the doorway. So close. Sighing, she turned around and trudged to her teacher’s desk.
    To give her credit, Mrs. Watley waited until all the other students had filed out before she lowered her voice and said, “I’m concerned about you, Chloe.”
    That’d make one person in the world who cared about her. Not knowing what to say, she just nodded.
    “What happened on this test?” She held up the mostly blank page Chloe had turned in.
    She shrugged. Nothing had happened, and that was exactly what was wrong. Except what could she say? So sorry—my parents screwed up and ever since I’ve been a mess?
    Her teacher looked pained. “Didn’t you study?”
    “I did.” The problem was with time: it hadn’t stopped. Around the beginning of the school year, when her mum had started losing it, Chloe had fallen behind in her classes. With the other ones, she’d managed to catch up.
    With science, she couldn’t. Each term had built on the last, and now in the fourth term she was so lost she couldn’t find her way back. It’d steadily gotten worse. Like a castle that was being built on loose sand, she kept crumbling.
    She gripped her journal closer to her chest, wishing she were anywhere but in front of her teacher’s disappointed gaze. She was disappointed enough in herself—she didn’t need someone else’s added to her burden.
    “I’m worried about you,” her teacher continued. “This isn’t like you at all. You’re failing out of my class, and I don’t understand it. You were doing well until this year, and you’re so bright. Is it your home situation?”
    Shifting her weight again, she pretended not to understand. “Home situation?”
    Mrs. Watley held her hands out. “It’s no secret your parents are divorcing.”
    “Actually, they’ve officially divorced,” she corrected, resettling her bag on her shoulder. It’d been a few months since the divorce had gone through. She was relieved that Charles was gone—things were much more relaxed at home.
    Except Viola had been acting more and more strange instead of being just as relieved. It scared Chloe, but it made her angry, too, because the mother was supposed to be the one who kept it together, not the kid.
    “I’m sorry about your parents,” Mrs. Watley said softly, her expression sympathetic. “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “No,” she said, feeling something close to horror. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d talk to her aunts or Rowdy—not her science teacher.
    Mrs. Watley nodded. “In any case, we need to do something about your performance in class. You’ve been selected to attend the Young Writers program at Stratford-upon-Avon, isn’t that right?”
    “Yes.” It was the only good thing that had happened the past couple months. She hadn’t told anyone except her grandmother, because her grandmother was a writer, too, and understood. She hadn’t told Viola yet. Not that her mother was interested in what was happening in her life.
    “If your fourth term grades don’t meet the requirements, you won’t be able to attend,” her teacher said, genuine concern furrowing her brow.
    The bag slipped off her shoulder. “ What? ”
    Her teacher nodded regretfully. “I know how important the program is to you, which is why I’m so concerned about your performance this term. You understand what’s at stake, don’t you?”
    Her entire life, because that program was the first step in getting into an excellent writing program at uni. Without it, she’d just be another one of the masses of students who wanted to write.
    She wasn’t just going to write. She was going to make her mark. It was in her blood, come to find out. It was the only thing she was good at. If she couldn’t go, what would she have?
    Nothing.
    Swallowing the fear, she looked her teacher in the eye. “I have to go