One day, Stacey started her homework. She doesn’t like to do her homework, but today she feels productive.
She could have done her homework on any day. She’s smart enough to do this without a problem. Her school knows this, hence why she has been enrolled.
You see, she had to be accepted into this school by completing a series of tests to see where you academically fall.
The headmaster seeks the best of the best through research for students around the world. He had been searching for one specific person to accept into his exclusive school.
Stacey had been that person.
You see, Stacey didn’t have to agree to being a part of the school. She had a choice. But, she had been misled, and that was not her choice.
The site that she had been doing her research on had the promise of a university that only a few people get to be a part of.
You had to show up at a certain date to take entrance exams to see if you are eligible to enroll.
Except, instead of your average 100 problem test of each subject, you get problems such as; “You need a ___ X by Y feet. Draw what it would look like to scale with Z requirements.
” or “What would it take to launch a cylinder from A to B that weighed X lbs. and had the dimensions Q and R?”
This is no ordinary school. This is an undercover business made to train unknowing students into giving them the blueprints, the engineers, the brainpower that they need to take over the nation.
The country. The world.
But, poor little Stacey doesn’t know that. She’s ignorant to what she’s saving from her decisions.
She believes in all her heart that she’s being that rebellious woman her parents made her out to be.
It wasn’t that she wanted to, it’s that she doesn’t feel like putting the effort into homework. She knows that she can do it all no problem.
She passed all her entrance exams with flying colors, after all. She’s just lazy. And she can almost say that she’s proud of it.
Tonight, however, was different. She had recently gotten a phone call from her parents asking her how school has been.
The conversation had been light and airy until in the middle of the phone call, they got an email from the school. It was her report card. C-’s and D’s were all her parents could see.
The once friendly conversation turned into a heated lecture about how she needs to graduate for the sake of her future.
And for the sake of her parents’ bragging rights, but that didn’t have to be mentioned. Her father warned Stacey to get her grades up by the end of the semester or else before hanging up.
Eyes stinging to hold back her tears, she looks over at her calendar. In red marker, there is a date circled with the words “FINAL DAY OF SEMESTER” written on the center.
She looked at the boxes from that date to the end date. 4 days. Stacey lets out a long, deep sigh, as she opens her backpack and takes out her binder.
One day, Stacey started her homework.