I was a teenager who never seemed to fit in. I struggled with academics, my grades always hovering near the bottom. I wasn't particularly studious and found it difficult to focus on my studies, which only added to my low grades. In class, I often found myself zoning out, unable to keep up with the rest of my peers.

I sighed as my teacher, Mrs. Simmons, approached me.

"Mela," Mrs. Simmons said, her tone stern. "I need to speak with you after class."

I groaned inwardly. I knew what was coming. My grades were abysmal, and my teacher was going to give me a lecture on the importance of studying and applying myself more diligently.

Mrs. Simmons nodded and called out to another student in the class.

"Gabriel, could you stay after class as well?"

My eyes narrowed as I heard the name. Gabriel was a student in another class who I had a complicated relationship with. He always seemed to be one step ahead of me, and his smug attitude only made me dislike him more.

Mrs. Simmons looked at me with a stern expression.

"Mela, be reasonable," she said. "Your grades are barely passing, and I can't overlook that. I've arranged for Gabriel to tutor you. He's a top student, and he may be able to help you improve your academics."

I crossed my arms stubbornly.

"I can learn on my own," I muttered, glowering at Gabriel.

"I don't need his help," I added in a defiant tone. "I can do this on my own."

Mrs. Simmons gave me a skeptical look.

"Really? Your recent performance says otherwise," she replied. "And even if you don't want to admit it, we both know that you're in need of some extra help."

Mrs. Simmons looked me in the eye, her expression serious.

"Mela, you have a choice," she said sternly. "You can either accept Gabriel's help and work hard to pass this quarter, or you can continue the way you've been going and fail. And if you fail, you won't be able to advance to senior high school. I'm not sugarcoating it."

I huffed stubbornly but knew Mrs. Simmons was right. I begrudgingly nodded my head, resigned to my fate.

I shuffled into the house, my arms crossed in a defensive gesture. My mother waited for me, holding up my recent test paper with a disapproving frown on her face.

"Mela, what kind of score is this?" My mother asked, sounding frustrated. "0/100?"

I mumbled under my breath, "But there was a bonus...so it's 1/100..."

My mother didn't seem impressed by my explanation. She took my phone from me hands and said firmly, "No gadgets for you, young lady. You're grounded! Go upstairs now!"

I grumbled to myself as I changed my clothes, feeling frustrated and annoyed. Suddenly, my mother's voice rang out from downstairs.

"Aren't you embarrassed? You're so pretty but you have no brains?!"

I rolled my eyes. I was used to my mother's harsh words, but they still stung every time, I just went inside my bedroom and closed my eyes as I jumped on my bed before hugging my pillow.

I had finally managed to fall asleep after a long day, but my rest was soon interrupted by the loud ringing of the telephone downstairs. I groaned in annoyance and sat up abruptly, mumbling to myself. "Stupid telephone," I muttered. "Always ringing so loudly, ruining my sleep."

I trudged down the stairs, rubbing my groggy eyes, and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice thick with exhaustion. "Who is this?"

The policeman spoke on the other end: "Is this Ethan's mother?"

I replied, "Oh, no. I'm his sister. Why? Is something wrong?"

The policeman explained the situation: "Your brother has been in a fight recently. He was with his gangs and got involved in some trouble. Could you come to the police station and pick him up?"

I let out a sigh. "Okay, I'll be there," I said before hanging up the phone.

I groaned in annoyance after hanging up the phone. My brother had once again landed himself in trouble, and I was the one who had to deal with it.

"Why am I even his sister?" I grumbled to myself.

—POLICE STATION—

I walked into the police station and saw my brother sitting in a jail cell, looking disheveled and annoyed. I sighed deeply and asked, "What the hell happened?"

My brother crossed his arms, looking defiant. "Long story short, they insulted my gang, and I had to do something about it," he replied.

I rolled my eyes, exasperated by my brother's hotheaded behavior.

I looked at my brother and said, "Mom's on her way. I informed her that you're here, AGAIN. I'm heading to the restroom."

My brother shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly unphased by the mention of our mother's impending arrival.

As I walked towards the bathroom, something suddenly caught my eye: a case board filled with information about a case. Something about the board seemed off to me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but my gut was telling me there was a mistake somewhere. Without any hesitation, I entered the room and looked over the board. After a moment, I spotted the issue: 'victim' should have been 'suspect'.

I quickly picked up a red Pentel pen and an eraser and erased the word 'victim'. Replacing it with 'suspect,' I set down the eraser and pen before leaving the room and heading into the women's bathroom.

Me, my mother, and my brother returned home after the police station incident. Upon arriving, my mother immediately grounded my brother for my latest act of foolishness.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that my brother was finally facing some consequences for his actions.

THE NEXT DAY

I was getting ready for school when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of police officers standing on our doorstep.

"May I help you?" I asked, feeling a sense of intrigue.

The police officer spoke, "Hello, this is from the police station. We're inviting you to come with us to the police station."

I took a deep breath and sighed, feeling a mix of worry and anxiety. I nodded, giving me agreement to follow the police officers to the station.

"Am I going to jail?"

TO BE CONTINUED