Free Betting Blind by Stephanie Guerra

a strange look.
    I nodded, stuffed my book in my backpack, and headed out. I was mentally scanning my locker, my pockets, my car. Clean, clean, and clean. I knew better than to bring anything to school. But what if somebody had narced?
    I half turned toward the lot, then turned back around and kept going. I’d watched enough movies to know I had to play it cool. Still, as I opened the door to Ms. Tacquard’s office, my heart was hammering like it wanted out of my chest. She was one of those people who took her job too seriously. And she was a bulldog about dope; I’d heard there was a one-strike policy.
    “Hi, Gabe,” Ms. T. said as I walked in. “Have a seat.” She was a tall, gray-haired lady, and she never wore any jewelry or makeup. She was in her big leather chair, which she’d pulled to the side of her scarily clean desk. That pull-to-the-side trick was supposed to make me feel like I could trust her. They all did it. I sat down and looked at her framed diplomas on the wall. There were about five of them.
    “Gabe, I was wondering if we could chat about how you’re doing with the transition to Claremont.” Ms. Tacquard leaned back in her chair. She looked like a wooden toy trying to relax. “More specifically, how are you doing academically?”
    Relief made me actually smile. “Fine. Doing good.”
    “That’s not what your teachers are saying.” She glanced at a folder on the desk.
    I’d played this game plenty of times. I tried to look sorry, although I was so glad it wasn’t about drugs that it probably came off like a smirk. “Sorry, Ms. Tacquard. I’ll try harder.”
    Her eyelids lowered a notch, and I could see her going into “tough” mode. “I’m afraid we need to be more proactive than that.” She opened the folder and started flipping through papers. “This is the test you failed in biology last week. This is the English paper you turned in a week late, and which received a grade of D. This is your math practice final, which you failed.” She set the folder back on her desk. “Gabriel, I need to impress upon you the importance of these grades.”
    Her strategy worked. F-D-F was a bad lineup, even for me. Not that I’d admit it to anybody, but I’d been trying. Those damn tests. Every time I got one back, I knew I’d had the right answer, but I’d filled in the wrong bubble for some reason. Bubble tests had screwed with me my whole life. But I wasn’t giving Tacquard the satisfaction of seeing that she rattled me.
    “Okay, Ms. T. I know they’re important.”
    She sighed. “You’re close to failing three of your classes. The quarter ends in three weeks. If you don’t pick up your grades, you’ll have to repeat them to graduate. And that’s not going to help your chances of getting into a good college.”
    “I’m not going to college,” I said.
    It was like I threw a rock through the window. She stared at me. She cleared her throat. “Gabe, that’s a pretty big statement. Do you want to talk about it?”
    I looked away. “Nothing to talk about. I’m just not college material.” I couldn’t read for longer than ten minutes without getting dizzy. I couldn’t write worth crap. And I couldn’t stand the thought of another four years locked in a white-walled cage with adults pouring bullshit through a tube into my ears.
    There was a long silence. Ms. Tacquard stared at me with narrowed eyes. “Well, I hope you’ll reconsider. A college degree can open a lot of doors. In the meantime, we have an after-school tutoring program that I think would benefit you. We offer sessions on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. Would you like me to sign you up?”
    “No, that’s okay.”
    Ms. T. let out a quiet hmsh through her nose. “All right, Gabe. You understand that I’ll be speaking with your mother about this. It’s a school policy to keep parents informed.”
    I didn’t answer. Mom wasn’t going to take the news easy. She’d been getting her hopes up, asking