Jamie's heart pounded like a drum in his chest as he watched his mother pick up the offending report card from the cluttered kitchen table. He had been trying to sneak it into the trash, under the mountain of crumpled homework and empty cereal bowls, but his mother's eagle eyes had spotted it nonetheless.

"Jamie, is this your report card?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She held it up, the white paper with its red and blue lettering standing out against her dark skin. Jamie could see the concern in her eyes, the worry lines etched around her mouth. He felt a pang of guilt, but it was too late to take it back now.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled, trying to sound casual. "I was just gonna show it to you." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced a smile, hoping to hide the shame that was burning his cheeks. He dropped his eyes to the floor, focusing on the worn linoleum, hoping his mother wouldn't notice the telltale redness.

He had known this day would come, had dreaded it since the first day of school. The first Term at Queen Child's Elementary school, the first time in California after years of moving from state to state with his mother and her string of dead-end jobs. The first term in fifth grade, where he was supposed to be the big kid, the one everyone looked up to. But instead, he was the new kid, the dumb kid, the one who couldn't even read a simple sentence out loud without stumbling over the words.

Jamie had envisioned their return to his mother's hometown as a chance to reinvent himself, to shake off the struggles of his past and emerge as a confident, capable student. But just the first term into the school year, he felt like he was drowning in a sea of ridicule. Every time he tentatively raised his hand in class, the other kids snickered and snorted, as if his very attempt to participate was a joke. 

When he asked the teacher to repeat something, they rolled their eyes in exasperation, their whispers and giggles piercing the air like daggers. Notes were passed, whispers exchanged, and cruel nicknames coined, all aimed at him, the struggling new kid who just couldn't seem to get it right.

His mother had tried to prepare him, had sat him down the night before the first day of school and told him that California was different, that the kids here could be tough, but that he was strong, that he was smart, that he could do anything he set his mind to. She had told him to hold his head high, to ignore the others, to focus on his studies. But it was easier said than done.

As his mother's eyes scanned the report card, Jamie felt his heart sink, the weight of his disappointment settling heavy on his shoulders. He knew every detail, every grade, every comment would be a painful reminder of his struggles. The string of mediocre grades, the failing marks, the teacher's notes all seemed to scream one thing: Jamie wasn't living up to his potential.

His mother's voice cut through the silence, sharp and laced with concern. "What's the grade I'm reading here, Jamie?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the English section. Jamie felt a pang of shame, knowing how much his mother valued his language skills. She had always been his biggest cheerleader, encouraging him to read widely, to write from the heart, and to speak his mind with confidence.

Jamie hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He knew his mother was looking for answers, for explanations, but he had none to give. He could only stand there, feeling helpless and defeated, as his mother's eyes searched for a glimmer of hope in the dismal report card.

She had always told him he was a natural storyteller, that he had a gift. But now, looking at the report card, she must have been wondering where that gift had gone.

Jamie took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. 

"It's...it's not great, Mom," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm having some trouble with English." He didn't mention the math, the science, the social studies. He didn't mention the jokes the other kids made about his accent, about his clothes, about his hair. He didn't mention the way his heart raced every time the teacher called on him, the way his palms sweated when he had to read out loud. He didn't mention any of that, because he knew his mother would see it as an excuse, would tell him he was making mountains out of molehills.

His mother's sigh was a deflated whisper that seemed to drain the energy from the kitchen. Jamie sensed her disappointment like a palpable force, saw her shoulders sag and her eyes dull. "Jamie, what's going on?" she asked, her voice a gentle, concerned whisper. "You're smart, capable - what's holding you back?"

Jamie's shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug, his eyes welling up with tears he desperately fought to hold back. He bit back the truth, afraid to reveal his struggles, and instead offered a vague, "I don't know, Mom." His voice cracked slightly as he added, "It's just...I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't get it. 

Everyone else seems to know what's going on, and I'm just...really confused." His mother's gaze lingered on his face, her eyes probing for the truth behind his words.

Jamie watched as his mother's expression transformed from concern to determination. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, formulating a plan to tackle the challenges he faced. Finally, she spoke, her voice filled with conviction. "Okay, we'll get through this, Jamie. We'll find a way to get you the support you need." She paused, her eyes locking onto his. "But I need you to promise me something." Jamie nodded eagerly, a spark of hope igniting within him. 

Maybe, just maybe, his mother could help him turn things around. "What is it?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation. "Promise me you won't give up," she said, her tone firm but gentle. "Promise me you'll keep pushing forward, no matter how tough it gets. Because I believe in you, Jamie. I believe in you even when you don't believe in yourself. And I know you can overcome this."

Jamie took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his mother's expectations pressing down on him. He knew she was right, knew that he couldn't give up, couldn't let these grades define him. But he also knew that it was going to be hard, that it was going to take more than just his mother's belief in him to turn things around. 

He knew that he was going to have to fight for it, to claw his way back to the top, to prove to everyone that he was worth something, that he wasn't just the dumb kid, the new kid, the kid who couldn't even read a sentence out loud.

But he also knew that he couldn't do it alone. He needed his mother's help, needed her support, needed her to be on his side. And so, with a deep breath and a nod, he made the promise. "I promise, Mom," he said. "I won't give up. I'll keep trying, no matter what."

With those words, the tide had turned. The struggle for Jamie's academic success had commenced, and it would be a protracted and arduous campaign. But Jamie felt a surge of hope, knowing that his mother stood steadfastly beside him. Together, they would face the challenges ahead, and for Jamie, that knowledge was a powerful catalyst. For now, it was enough to know that he wasn't alone, and that with his mother's unwavering support, he had a chance and that was enough !

"Good night I love you"she said 

Jamie replied, "Good night mother " 

The morning sun shone through the thin curtains of Jamie's small bedroom, illuminating the cluttered space. His desk was messy from the previous night's homework, with crumpled papers, partially filled notebooks, and a worn-down pencil. Jamie woke up, feeling anxious about the day ahead. He remembered he had school, and the thought made him uneasy.

Jamie looked over at his older brother, Arthur, who was still fast asleep. Arthur had always been the high achiever, exceling in sports, academics, and social situations. Jamie felt envious of his brother's success and the ease with which he seemed to accomplish everything. It appeared that opportunities came easily to Arthur, while Jamie struggled to find his place.

Jamie tossed off his blanket and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The chill of the floor hit his feet as he stood up, a sudden reminder that it was time to face the day. He stretched, trying to loosen the tension that had settled in his body. A quick wash and a hasty combing of his messy hair later, he made his way to the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast wafted through the air.

Jamie entered the kitchen to find his mother expertly flipping pancakes on the grange. The sizzling sounds and soft hum of the radio filled the air. Arthur sat at the table, nose buried in a book, a plate of untouched pancakes in front of him. 

Jamie felt a pang of envy, wishing he could be as focused and driven as his brother. Their mother's cheerful voice cut through the morning fog, "Good morning, boys! I made your favorite - pancakes with syrup and fresh fruit!"

"Thanks, Mom," Arthur said, smiling as he closed his book. Jamie forced a weak smile, his anxiety growing as he anticipated the conversation to come. As they sat down to eat, their mother launched into her familiar morning lecture. 

"Education is key to a better life," she emphasized. "It's the only way to break the cycle of poverty and achieve success. Do you both understand that?" She looked at each of them, her eyes serious and expectant. Arthur nodded readily, but Jamie felt a familiar knot of pressure and expectation tightening in his stomach.

He was prepared to listen, yet the words felt hollow. The truth was, he didn't like school very much, and there was no reason why he should. To him, it was a gauntlet of judgment and ridicule, where he was constantly reminded of his shortcomings. 

The other kids saw him as the dumbest kid in the class, and every snicker and whispered joke cut deeper than any report card could.

His mother continued, her voice rising with passion. "If you keep getting these kinds of grades, you're going to spend the rest of your life sweeping floors in a factory. That's not the kind of life that I want for you. That's not the kind of life that you will want for yourself."

Jamie's heart sank at her words. He looked down at his plate, pushing the pancakes around with his fork. They looked delicious, but the thought of eating made him feel nauseous.

 How could he tell her that he felt like a failure, that every time he walked into that classroom, he felt like a ghost? How could he explain that the laughter of his classmates echoed in his mind, drowning out any hope he had of success?

Arthur nodded enthusiastically, his eyes gleaming with resolve. Jamie felt a twinge of resentment, wondering why he couldn't be more like his brother - effortlessly absorbing information and exceling in school. 

His mother's voice snapped him back to attention. "Jamie, are you listening?" She looked at him with concern. Jamie forced a smile, trying to reassure her. "Yeah, I'm listening. I get it, Mom. Education is important."

"Good," she said, her face softening. "I just want what's best for you and Arthur. I work hard to provide for our family, and I need you to understand that education is key to a better life." Jamie nodded again, but inside, he felt frustrated and trapped.

 He wanted to express his own struggles and efforts, but the words got stuck. Instead, he pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'm going to get ready for school," he whispered. 

As he walked back to his room, he felt his mother's worried and disappointed gaze on him. 

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. The weight of his mother's expectations felt crushing. He knew she meant well, but the pressure was suffocating.

Deep down, Jamie yearned to prove his mother wrong. He wanted to show her that he was capable of success, that he could overcome the teasing and the poor grades that haunted him. 

However, his fear of failure overshadowed his determination. What if he tried his best and still didn't measure up? What if he disappointed her? Jamie hastily got dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that felt constricting. 

He glanced in the mirror, attempting to muster some confidence, but the reflection staring back at him was unrecognizable – a lost and isolated boy who felt like he didn't belong in the world.

Jamie took a deep breath, recalling the promise he made to his mother. "I won't give up," he whispered to himself. "I'll keep trying." 

With a final glance in the mirror, he returned to the kitchen, where Arthur was finishing his breakfast. Their mother was cleaning up, her back to them. Jamie felt a pang of guilt for brushing her off earlier, but it was soon eclipsed by the anxiety of facing another day at school.

"Ready?" Arthur asked, standing up and grabbing his backpack. Jamie nodded, the familiar knot in his stomach tightening. They walked out the door together, and as Jamie stepped into the sunlight, he felt a mix of hope and dread. 

The walk to school was quiet, with rows of similar-looking houses. Each step felt heavier, and Jamie couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking toward disaster. The school loomed ahead, a brick building that felt like a prison.

Jamie stood at the school entrance, surrounded by a cacophony of voices that felt like a distant echo. The laughter, chatter, and excited shouts were muffled by his own thoughts. 

He hung his head in shame. His mother's words replayed in his mind like a broken record. "You're not living up to your potential," she'd said, her voice laced with disappointment and concern. "I know I've got two smart boys, and I know you can do better."

The truth was, Jamie felt like a failure. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was letting his mother down. She had sacrificed so much for him and Arthur, raising them alone after their parents had separated when Jamie was just nine years old. 

The memories of that time were a jumble of confusion and pain. He remembered the nights spent waiting for his father to return, convinced that the man who had once filled their home with laughter would come back and everything would be normal again. But as the weeks turned into months, the hope faded, and the reality of their new life set in.

"Jamie, come on!" Arthur's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. 

His older brother stood just a few steps ahead, his backpack slung over one shoulder, a look of concern etched on his face. "You're going to be late for class."

Jamie forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm coming." He picked up his pace, trying to match Arthur's stride, but the heaviness in his heart felt like a weight that could not be lifted. As they walked through the crowded hallways, Jamie felt the eyes of his peers on him, the whispers and snickers that followed him like a shadow. He could almost hear their thoughts: "Why can't he just try harder?" "Doesn't he care about school?"

The truth was, Jamie did care. Jamie cared deeply, but the fear of failure loomed larger than any desire to succeed. The pressure to excel, to meet the expectations of his mother, his teachers, and even himself, felt insurmountable. Every test, every assignment was a reminder of his shortcomings, a reflection of the gap between who he was and who everyone believed he could be.

As they entered their first class, Jamie took a deep breath, bracing himself for the challenges ahead. He saw Mr. Thompson, glasses teetering on the bridge of his nose, setting up at the front of the room. The teacher was known for being strict but fair, and Jamie usually found comfort in the structured lessons. But today, even that familiar routine felt like a distant memory, offering little solace from his growing anxiety.

"Hey, Jamie," Sarah called out from behind him. She was a classmate from math, and while friendly, Jamie suspected her kindness was partly due to his connection to Arthur. 

"Ready for the quiz today?" Jamie forced a smile, feeling like an imposter. "Uh, yeah... I've been studying." The words felt hollow, and he caught the fleeting doubt in her eyes before she turned away to chat with her friends.

As Jamie settled into his seat, the familiar dread crept in, tightening its grip around him. He glanced at Arthur, who was intently taking notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

Jamie envied that focus, the ability to tune out distractions and immerse himself in the work. It was a skill he longed to master, but every time he tried, the distractions were too loud, too overwhelming, and his mind wandered.

Mr. Thompson cleared his throat, quieting the room. "Alright, class, settle down. Today we have a quiz on last week's material. I expect everyone to do well." His eyes swept the room, pausing briefly on Jamie. Jamie's heart skipped a beat as the teacher's gaze felt like a heavy weight pressing down on him.

 "Remember, this is your chance to show me what you've learned," Mr. Thompson continue, his words echoing in Jamie's mind like a daunting challenge.

As the quiz papers were distributed, Jamie's palms grew clammy. He glanced at the blank sheet in front of him, the questions swirling in his mind like a storm. What if he didn't know the answers? What if he failed? The thought was paralyzing. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him, but it felt futile.

The clock ticked away, each second stretching into eternity. Jamie scribbled down answers, but the words felt foreign, disconnected from the knowledge he was supposed to have. He could hear the rustle of papers around him, the soft scratching of pencils, and it all felt like a reminder of how out of place he was.

Halfway through the quiz, he glanced over at Arthur, who was already finishing up. The sight made Jamie's heart sink further. How could he be so good at this? It wasn't fair. A wave of frustration washed over him, and he felt the urge to crumple the paper in front of him and throw it away. But he couldn't do that— not after everything his mother had said, not after all the sacrifices she had made.

When the bell finally rang, Jamie felt a mix of relief and dread. He handed in his quiz, his heart racing. As he walked out of the classroom, he heard the whispers and laughter of his classmates behind him, a constant reminder of his struggles.

 He tried to shake it off, but the weight of their judgment felt crushing. "Hey, you okay?" Arthur asked, walking beside him. Jamie forced a nod, but the knot in his stomach tightened. "You seem a little off today," Arthur observed, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm fine," Jamie said, the words feeling insincere. He didn't want to burden Arthur with his struggles, didn't want to add to the expectations already weighing him down. As they headed to lunch, Jamie's thoughts drifted back to his mother's words. "You have to use that good brain of yours that God gave you, Jamie." 

He recalled the warmth of her hand on his shoulder, the love and conviction in her touch. Her belief in him was a double-edged sword – a comforting reminder of her love, yet a heavy burden to live up to.

The cafeteria erupted in a cacophony of noise. Jamie scanned the room, searching for a place to sit. Arthur waved to a group of friends, and Jamie felt a pang of loneliness. He didn't belong to any particular group, lacking the easy camaraderie that seemed to come naturally to others. So, he found a seat at the far end of a table, isolating himself from the laughter and chatter that filled the air.

As he picked at his food, Jamie's thoughts spiraled.

"You can do anything they can do—only you can do it better." His mother's voice echoed in his mind, a mantra that felt more like a curse than a blessing. What if he couldn't? What if he was destined to be the underachiever, the disappointment? The thought made him feel sick.

As lunch came to an end, Jamie stood up, ready to face the next class.

With each step toward his next class, Jamie reminded himself that he was more than the weight of expectations. He was Jamie, a boy with dreams and aspirations, and he was determined to find his way, no matter how difficult the journey might be.

The school day crawled to a close, each minute ticking by at a glacial pace as Jamie sat in his last class, fixated on the clock with a mix of dread and anticipation. Finally, the bell rang, shattering the monotony that had held him captive. 

As he stepped into the hallway, he spotted Arthur waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Arthur's face brightened when he saw Jamie, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Ready to go?" he asked, his voice infused with enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Jamie replied, forcing a smile of his own. The thought of playing outside, of escaping the confines of the classroom, brought a flicker of excitement to his heart.

As they walked home, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows on the pavement. Jamie felt a sense of longing as they passed by a group of kids laughing and running around, their carefree joy a stark contrast to the heaviness that lingered in his chest.

"Mother's still at work," Arthur said, breaking into Jamie's thoughts. "We can go play outside with the other kids."

"Okay," Jamie replied, his spirits lifting. They hurried home, dropping their backpacks by the door before racing out into the world outside.

The neighborhood felt alive, the sun casting a golden hue over everything. They headed to the nearby park, where a group of kids had gathered. Jamie recognized some of them from school, a mix of familiar faces and new ones. The laughter and shouts filled the air, a symphony of childhood that made Jamie's heart race with anticipation.

"Hey, Jamie! Arthur!" one of the kids called out, waving them over. It was Marcus, a boy from their class who was known for his infectious energy. "We're about to play tick-tap! You guys in?"

"Absolutely!" Arthur replied, his excitement palpable. Jamie felt a rush of adrenaline as he joined the group, the weight of his worries momentarily forgotten.

The game was simple yet exhilarating. The kids placed a bottle cap on the sidewalk, marking the target. They took turns throwing a bouncy ball, trying to knock it over. Jamie felt a surge of competitiveness as he lined up his shot, focusing intently on the cap. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the ball flying, watching as it bounced off the sidewalk and landed just inches from the cap.

 Cheers erupted from the group, and Jamie felt a smile spread across his face.

"Two points!" Marcus shouted, and Jamie laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep within him. It felt good to be part of something, to feel the thrill of the game and the camaraderie of his peers.

As the game continued, Jamie found himself lost in the moment, the laughter and cheers drowning out the insecurities that had plagued him throughout the day. Each successful throw, each point scored, felt like a small victory against the shadows of doubt that had followed him. He was no longer the kid who struggled in class; he was just Jamie, a player in a game, a part of the laughter and joy that surrounded him.

The sun began to dip below the horizon. As the game wore on, Jamie felt fatigue creeping in, his muscles aching from the constant running and jumping. But he didn't want the fun to end. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to stretch it out as long as he could.

"Last round!" Arthur called out, and the kids gathered around, their faces set with determination. 

Jamie felt a surge of adrenaline as he prepared for his final throw, the ball feeling lighter than ever in his hand. He zeroed in on the cap, blocking out the distractions – the teasing, the grades, the pressure. It was just him and the game. With a swift motion, he threw the ball, watching in awe as it soared through the air, a perfect arc that seemed to defy gravity. The ball landed squarely on the cap, flipping it into the air. The group erupted into cheers, and Jamie felt an overwhelming rush of triumph. 

"Ten points!" someone shouted, and Jamie beamed with pride. For that fleeting moment, he felt invincible. As darkness settled in, the group began to disperse, promising to meet again tomorrow for another round. Jamie and Arthur walked home together, the glow of the streetlights illuminating their path. When they arrived home, the house was quiet, their mother still at work. The stillness felt comforting after the chaos of the day. They settled into the living room, flipping on the TV to watch their favorite show.

As the night wore on, Jamie's eyelids grew heavy, his body weary from the day's adventures. The laughter and excitement of the day still lingered in his mind, a sweet reminder of the joy he had experienced. But as he drifted off to sleep, the shadows of doubt began to creep back in, reminding him of the challenges that awaited him. Tomorrow would bring another day at school, another chance for judgment and ridicule. The thought made his heart skip a beat, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the warmth of the moment, letting the comfort of the present chase away the worries of the future.

Eventually, the show ended, and Jamie could feel the heaviness of sleep pulling him under. He made his way to his room, exhaustion settling into his bones. As he lay in his bed.

As he drifted off to sleep, he could hear the faint sound of his mother's key turning in the lock. He knew she would be home soon . 

The sun rose slowly, casting a subdued light through Jamie's bedroom window. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, yesterday's events still fresh in his mind. After a few moments of hesitation, Jamie finally got out of bed. 

He shuffled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face in an attempt to shake off his fatigue. As he dressed for school, he couldn't help but think about the quiz he had failed the day before. He needed to focus on the day ahead and find a way to navigate school without getting overwhelmed. 

Downstairs, his mother was already preparing breakfast in the kitchen. "Morning, Jamie," Arthur mumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep. "Morning," Jamie replied, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. Arthur looked up at him, his expression casual but with a hint of concern. "Did you study for the math quiz today?" he asked.

"yeah, a little," Jamie lied. He had barely looked at his notes. His mother turned from the stove, looking concerned. "You boys need to take your studies seriously. I can't have you both failing your classes. 

It's important for your future." Jamie nodded and forced a smile. "I know, Mom." He felt guilty for lying, but it was easier than explaining his test anxiety. "Good," she said. "And remember, I'll be home early tonight." After breakfast, Jamie and his brother went to school. Jamie sat in class and tried to pay attention. When the bell rang for lunch, Jamie went to the cafeteria.

As lunch continued, Jamie struggled to focus on the conversation. His mind felt cloudy and disconnected. He laughed along with his friends, but their jokes and stories felt distant. 

After lunch, Jamie returned to class, going through the motions. When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Jamie quickly gathered his belongings and rushed out of the classroom. He walked home, the familiar streets feeling overwhelming.

When Jamie and Arthur returned home that evening, they spent some time playing outside before going inside, knowing their mother would be home early. They settled on the couch, watching TV. 

Their mother walked in, and as she crossed the room, her expression changed. She snatched the remote from Arthur's hands, turning off the television. "You're both wasting too much time on TV," she said firmly. "You can't get an education from watching television.

 From now on, you can only watch TV on Saturdays and Sundays, just two programs." Jamie felt a pang of disappointment. He couldn't believe she was limiting their TV time so drastically. Before he could protest, she continued, "The loss of TV and playtime is bad enough. You both need to focus on your studies." Jamie tried to argue, but his mother remained firm. 

He looked at Arthur, expecting him to speak up, but his brother remained silent, lying on the couch staring at his feet.

The door to Jamie's room creaked as he pushed it open.

"Both of you stop and turn around," she had said, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. 

Jamie could still see the look on her face, a mixture of determination and concern, as she laid down the law. "In addition to doing your homework, you have to give me a report of your weekly assignments in school."

Jamie nodded, feeling a mix of resentment and obligation. He thought it was unfair that he had to report his weekly assignments to his mother. It felt like she didn't trust him to handle his responsibilities. He glanced over at Arthur, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

Arthur looked annoyed but also understanding. Jamie knew that as the older brother, Arthur often had to deal with their mother's high expectations. But today, it felt like they were both being held to an impossible standard. Their mother had asked Arthur, "Do you understand?" Arthur had replied, "Yeah," in a flat voice. Then she turned to Jamie. "Jamie, is it clear?" Jamie said, "Yes, Mother," but the words felt empty.

As they retreated to their rooms, Jamie couldn't shake the feeling of injustice. What was it about their mother that made her so relentless in her pursuit of perfection?

Jamie stared at the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the paint with his eyes. He thought about the friends he wouldn't be able to see, the games he wouldn't be able to play.

Arthur turned to see his brother face. He looked frustrated, his brow furrowed and his jaw set tight. "Can you believe her?" Jamie exclaimed, "It's like she thinks we're not capable of taking care of ourselves. I mean, we're not toddlers anymore!"

"I know," Arthur said, sitting down beside Jamie. "It's so unfair. Why does she have to be like this? Other kids don't have to report their assignments to their parents." Jamie sat up, his frustration evident. "Maybe it's because she thinks we're going to mess things up if she doesn't keep an eye on us," he said. "But it's suffocating, Arthur! I'm tired of being treated like a kid." 

Arthur nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of solidarity with his brother. As the older sibling, Arthur often took the lead and pushed back against their mother's rules. But today, even he felt overwhelmed by her expectations.

"What are we going to do?" Arthur asked quietly. Jamie sighed, running his hand through his hair. "We could just... not do it," he suggested, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "What if we just ignored her? We could go out and play anyway. 

She can't keep us locked up forever." The idea was tempting. Arthur felt a rush of adrenaline at the thought of breaking free. "But what if she finds out?" he asked. "You know how she gets." Jamie's expression turned defiant. "Let her find out," he said. "We're not her puppets. We have lives to live, Arthur. We can't just sit around doing homework all the time."

Arthur considered Jamie's words, weighing the potential consequences against the thrill of rebellion. "I don't know, Jamie. It feels wrong," he said, hesitating. But Jamie's enthusiasm was infectious. "Sometimes you have to take risks," Jamie urged. "You'll never know what you're capable of if you don't push back a little. 

Besides, what's the worst that could happen? A lecture? We've had worse." Arthur thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said finally, a sense of determination settling over him. "Let's do it."

So they both slept off having in mind tomorrow is another day for school.