Midterms: The story of Amber
Written by Written by Jurah
The night she decided to take things her way, she was not intoxicated with liquor; instead, she was buzzing with rage.
It was so typical for the university to feel like a ghost town during the silent week. Nearly everyone was putting their dials to low frequency, engrossed in a trance — if not stressed or anxious.
Just as a quarter of minutes left before the university bell belched its disturbing ring, the instructor carefully laid out his cards on the table. We were to submit our group project of five, due in the second-week post-midterms.
And I couldn’t be more displeased because I’m not too fond of groupings. However, my voice was like dust in the wind, barely noticeable.
After many sighs and caffeine later that week, I could almost touch my pain and hug it. Deadlines were piling here and there, exams eating up my minuscule brain. I could barely do my skincare. How sad.
“I must be looking horrible now,” a thought suddenly passed while I walked the hallway to our class. I was at the entrance when I saw our group leader with her boyfriend being too affectionate with each other. “What a sight to start my day!” I almost rolled my eyes at them. Almost.
A week later, a juicy rumor has been circulating, and it seems like there was trouble in paradise. But, unfortunately, the leader was too affected. Judging from her red puffy eyes, it must be rough.
“Lead, hapit na ta mahoman?” my latest inquiry after a couple of unread chats from my end to hers.
I curled my fingers and screamed mentally. Twas the night before the deadline, our leader did not do her part, nor did she compile the outputs. It turns out she was too angry at her partner and decided she didn’t want to do school work.
How could someone leave you falling mid-air?
My angry tears started to pour down. I felt so hopeless that night, too brittle and under pressure that I cracked. But I couldn’t afford even an hour of tears and wallowing. Fifteen minutes said the timer as it rang and vibrated; my time was up.
Sleep-deprived, I hustled in the wee hours. I might fail this subject, but I won’t let it happen without a fight. My rage became my driving force.
Amber was glad she took care of things instead of following her leader’s footsteps. She was able to submit their outputs on the deadline, quite the buzzer-beater she is, with tired eyes and a sleep-deprived body. The latest busy-body report has it that the couple broke apart, and the girl failed a class.
