“What Little Kid Wants to Make Jesus Sad?”

Part 2- Finale: The Score

I spend days skulking around the wooded paths of my university, dreading the day Magister Williams will shoot me an email with the news.

After two weeks, I can’t take the anticipation. I amble into the Humanities Building and wander down the Classical Languages Corridor.

I stand in front of his door, but I’ve lost my nerve. My hand shakes as I reach for the doorknob.

“Ugh,” I say aloud as I draw my hand back. “Can’t do it, just can’t do it.” I turn to leave, and run my face directly into Magister Williams’ old frame. My nose squishes uncomfortably in the impact. I jump back, rubbing my face.

“So-sorry, sir!” I stutter in surprise.

He looks at me with concern, whether it be because of our collision or my failing score, I don’t know.

After a long pause, he is still not saying anything. My palms sweat. With one sentence, he will determine whether I’m flying out to grad school in Cali for the fall or staying in New York for a single language course.

“Well,” he says finally. “You passed-”

“Ah!” I scream, laughing. I push forward again, but, this time, I collide with the old man on purpose, giving him a quick hug.

“Thank you! Bless you and your boy-like soul!”


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