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determinedwriter · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 Day 18: Alt Prompt 11: Panic

It’s fine. You’re fine. Ro, you’re fine.

I keep trying to tell myself this, my heart beating way too fast. Why does it have to happen on the day I turn in the essay worth half my damn grade? I’m terrified. I know it’s a good essay, but my teacher can be really strict and harsh about the small things.

I gulp as my teacher slaps my essay on my desk with a frown and a big red F covering half of the first page. “You’re lucky I don’t expel you for this, Potts.”

“W-What?” I gasp. “Sir, I worked on this for an entire month. I put a lot of effort and a ton of hours into this. Why are you giving me an F? I’ll fail this class if-”

He holds his hand up to stop me from talking. “Please, don’t embarrass yourself further in front of the class. This was clearly written by someone else. You either plagiarized it or had someone else write it for you.”

The students around me giggle.

My jaw drops. “W-Why would you think that? I swear, I wrote it all myself. Please, I-”

“Get out of my classroom if you decide to continue disrespecting me.” My teacher. Mr. Carson snaps.

My cheeks go hot and I feel my anxiety reach its peak. “I…I s-swear I…”

He points to the door. “Out. Now. Please, everyone, take note of what NOT to do and what I will NOT tolerate in my class.”

Legs shaking, I stand up and grab my essay, looking at the big red F in shame, listening to the snickering of my classmates until I’m outside and running to the bathroom to cry. I worked so hard on this paper and I’m being called a cheater. It’s not fair.

Contemplating calling my dad, I let my finger shakily hover over his contact name. “Get it together, Aurora. You’re fine...don’t freak out…it’s okay…”

The bell rings, signaling the end of the class. I need to get to my next one, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit through it without bursting into tears. I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what to do now. I can’t skip, but I can’t stay.

I’ve been anxious about that essay all day. Of all the things I thought could happen, I didn’t imagine this. I’m heartbroken. Like the perfectionist I am, I have straight A’s. I’m Tony Stark’s daughter. I have to be impressive. Even if the general public doesn’t know of my parentage, I still hold myself to an impossible standard.

Looking down at my phone, I try to decide what to do. I can’t talk about my essay. I’m too scared to admit what happened. And I’m not even sure if Dad would believe my side of things. Sometimes he just…doesn’t understand.

I’m not an effortless genius like him.

Forcing myself to go to my next class, I try desperately to ignore the stares that follow me down the hall. Peter sits at the desk beside mine and smiles before noticing my demeanor. “Ro? Hey, what’s wrong?”

I struggle to keep my breathing even and normal. “Everyone thinks I’m a cheater.”

I put my essay on his desk. “I got a big fat F for cheating or not writing my paper. That’s what my teacher Mr. Carson said. I swore up and down that I didn’t cheat but he humiliated me in front of the whole class. I worked so hard, Peter.”

He frowns and looks at my essay, flipping through it. “This is really good, Ro. Maybe he thought it was so good that you couldn’t have written it yourself? I mean, that’s not a good reason to give you an F though. I’m really sorry.”

I nod. “My dad is gonna be so disappointed. I’m…I’m not like him.”

“You’re my best friend. I know how amazing you are. Your teacher is wrong. He’s just plain wrong.” Peter reassures me. “I’m sorry he doesn’t believe you.”

I exhale, deflating in my chair. “Yeah…thanks.”

The teacher from my English class walks in, making me go pale. I look at Peter. “That’s him…” Why is he even here? He doesn’t teach history.

He frowns sympathetically and grabs my hand from under the desk. “I’m sorry.”

“Hello, class.” Mr. Carson says. “I’ll be taking over for Mr. Dell today. He had a family emergency and had to leave. I’m Mr. Carson and I will be your substitute history teacher for the last class of the day.”

I gulp and he makes eye contact with me, recognition washing over his face. “Today we’ll be talking about Jacob Epstein and his famous case of plagiarism. My specialty is literature so I thought I’d bring something from history that involved what I know best. It’s a nice change of pace for you all.”

He looks at me again. “Plus, Miss Potts here knows a lot about plagiarism so it shouldn’t be a difficult assignment for her.”

My lip quivers as the students around me snicker. “Mr. Carson, I swear I-“

“In fact, why don’t we study Aurora Potts’ essay as an example?” He interrupts.

I hold back the urge to throw up, eyes darting to Peter. He squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. Ro, it’s okay. Look at me. Everything is going to be alright.”

“Mr. Parker, do you have anything you’d like to share with the class?” Mr. Carson asks him.

Peter looks surprised. “U-Uh…well, I just don’t…I don’t think you should jump to conclusions about Ro’s essay. In fact, I know how hard she worked on it. It’s not fair to give her a failing grade and tell the whole class that she plagiarized or cheated or whatever.”

God, I love Peter Parker. I’m so glad he’s by my side. I don’t have the mental strength to fight for myself right now. This day has caused too much anxiety already and I can’t take much more before I crack.

Mr. Carson slowly nods. “I see that you like to stick up for your friend here, and I’ll commend you for that. But a cheater is a cheater.”

Peter tries to rebuttal, but decides against it and holds my hand again. “I’m sorry.”

I am silent with a lump in my throat as Mr. Carson tells us to take out our notebooks, beginning to write on the board behind him.

Plagiarism Cases in Modern History: Aurora Potts

My stomach clenches and I’m almost certain I’m about to puke. Peter notices my quickened breath. “Hey. Hey, I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

I want to appreciate his words, but this is sending me over the edge. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this. I can’t take the sound of my classmates giggling and taking pictures of the whiteboard.

Unable to take it anymore, I stand up from my desk, gaining the attention of Mr. Carson. “Miss Potts, you’ll have to wait until the bell rings to be excused.”

My voice shakes as I answer. “I-I c-can’t.”

“These are the consequences of your actions and you have to get used to that before you’re out in the real world. Nobody’s gonna hold your hand, and your parents are only going to be disappointed. What would your mother and father say?”

“M-My mother…” I squeeze my eyes shut at the painful memory. “My mother is d-dead.”

His face changes slightly and I think he may tone it down a little. “Have any siblings?”

I shake my head. “N-No…”

Mr. Carson sighs. “That’s a real shame. I guess your father will just have to live with a daughter that cheats her way through life. If you were my daughter, I’d be very, very disappointed. Your dad should be too. I’m sure he will be.”

That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I burst into tears and run out of the classroom, desperate for refuge.

I hear Peter calling after me and it only makes me more anxious. Slinging my backpack onto both shoulders, I run for the exit and don’t stop booking it until I’m home.

Peter has called me a few times now. School will be out soon enough. I feel badly for worrying him, but I just couldn’t take Mr. Carson’s cruel words.

Sobs with my face in a pillow, I find it hard to breathe and hug it instead. He’s right. My dad deserves a better kid. Someone much smarter and stronger than me.

With all of this on my mind, I sob and heave heavily, unable to catch my breath. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“You seem to be in distress. Would you like me to notify Mr. Stark?” FRIDAY, the compound's AI assistant asks me.

I quickly shake my head. “N-N-No! No…don’t bother him.”

I sit on the floor next to my bed and find a shoebox under it. Oh yeah. I forget I had this. It’s been so long since I felt I needed it.

Opening the box, I see a razor blade and an old Polaroid of my mom. God, I miss her so much. I miss her more than anything.

Fidgeting with the razor in my hands, I contemplate using it. I’m such a disappointment. I can’t deal with all of this pain. Not anymore. Not without punishing myself for my own failures.

I slash horizontally across my wrist a few times, finding it almost comforting to see the blood trickle down. It’s what I deserve.

There’s suddenly a knock on my door and I begin to panic again. “Ro, are you okay? You’re home early.”

Dad. No, no, no. “I-I’m fine. I j-just…felt sick.”

“Can I come in?” He asks.

I shove the razor back in the box and put it back under my bed before rolling my sleeves down. “Y-Yeah.”

Dad enters my room, looking surprised at the state of me. “What’s wrong? Kid, what happened?”

Starting to cry all over again, I cover my face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I’m such a f-failure.”

He sits on the floor beside me. “You’re not a failure.”

“B-But I…m-my e-e-essay, it…” I try to explain, anxiety getting the better of me. I hyperventilate and pull at the ends of my hair so harshly I might rip some out.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop. Ro, stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Take a deep breath.” Dad tries to persuade me.

I’ve already hurt myself, so there’s another disappointment to add to his list. I can’t stop myself from spiraling.

Small clumps of hair come out as I continue to pull, worrying Dad more. “Stop! Stop! Why are you doing this? Come on, look at me. You’ve gotta stop.”

His raised voice makes me crumble and he tries to grab my hands, causing me to cry out in surprise and panic. “No! No! No! Don’t touch me!”

He pries my fingers off of my hair, finally getting me to stop. He holds my hands gently as I shut my eyes tightly. “Ro, it’s alright. What’s going on, mini?”

Mini. Like Mini Stark. It’s one of my nicknames along with Tiny Stark, Micro Stark, Little Stark, etc. Anything to do with being the miniature version of my father.

But I’m not like him. I’m not strong, smart and confident. I’m just…me. “I can’t breathe.”

“Okay…alright. Look at me. Everything’s fine. You’re safe. Just look at me, okay?” He requests.

I slowly and fearfully open my eyes, looking into his. He’s kneeling in front of me now. “Good, Ro. Copy my breathing. Can you do that for me?”

I nod and he gives a small smile. “Okay. Breathe in…”

He does an exaggerated breath in. “Breathe out…”

This continues for a bit until I’m able to copy him long enough for me to calm down. I sniffle. “I’m sorry.”

Dad hugs me, tenderly cradling me in his lap as we sit on the floor. “Oh, mini…it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened today?”

I gulp nervously, clinging to him. “I got an F on my English essay. Because my teacher thinks I cheated…he thinks I plagiarized it or something. He berated me in front of my class and then he filled in for my history teacher and made an example of me there too. Everyone laughed and took pictures. Well…except for Peter. I ran out of class and he tried to chase me but I just kept running until I got home.”

He massages my hair. “I’m so, so sorry, Ro. I know you didn’t cheat. You worked really hard on it. I remember. And your teacher…I’m gonna have to have a word with him. I’m gonna fix this for you, alright?”

“It seemed like the whole school was making fun of me…laughing…gossiping.” I whimper.

“Kids are assholes.” Dad replies. “There’s always gonna be people like that and you can’t control it. You just have to believe me when I say it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”

“Thanks…” I mumble.

He situates himself beside me again, looking down as his hand bumps into something. “What do we have here?”

Dad pulls out the shoebox and I instantly panic. “Nothing. Nothing. It’s private. Please, it’s-“

He opens it and sees the Polaroid and razor, face darkening. “Ro…”

I’ve disappointed him for real this time, haven’t I?

Examining the blade, he lightly gasps. “There's blood on this. Fresh blood.”

Wrapping my arms around myself for comfort, I bow my head and cry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I deserve to…I…I should be hurt.”

“Show me.” Dad mumbles softly.

I know what he means, but I hug myself tighter and hide my arms. “I don’t wanna…”

“Let me help you. Please, let me help you.” He replies.

I don’t protest as he carefully takes my arms and rolls up my sleeves, seeing the cuts on my left wrist. “Oh, baby…baby girl. It’s alright now, Ro.”

“It’ll never be alright.” I say mournfully. “I’m never gonna be as smart or as strong as you. I'm not like you…I’m hardly a Stark. I shouldn’t have this name.”

Dad helps me up and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk.”

We go to the bathroom and he has me sit on the toilet seat while he gently cleans my cuts with a warm washcloth. He’s so tender and focused.

“I'm sorry.” I say quietly as he works.

He doesn’t look up at me. “Don’t ever be sorry. If you ever feel like doing this again, you call me. You tell me.

No matter what time it is or where I am, you’ve gotta tell me so I can help you. Can you do that for me?”

I nod. “Mmhm.”

“Good.” Dad replies. “And for the record, you’re not a disappointment. If anyone deserves the Stark name, it’s you. You’re empathetic and wise beyond your years. And incredibly smart and strong willed. You’re everything I could ever hope for, baby. I promise you that.”

Sighing, I shrug my shoulders. “Okay, Dad…”

“It’s true.” He reiterates. “You’re going to be a great woman all by yourself. You won’t even need me.”

“I’ll always need you.” I counter, almost urgently.

Dad smiles. “I’ll always need you too, kiddo.”

Applying medicine and wrapping my wrist with bandages, he kisses it softly. “There you go.”

I’ve never seen him so soft and caring. He grabs my hand and lifts me from the toilet seat, wrapping his arms around me as we stand there.

He sighs contently. “I love you endlessly, mini.”

“Love you tons.” I reply, burying my head in his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it. What do you say we order some cheeseburgers and watch something? Anything you want.” Dad offers.

I grin, wiping my eyes after all of the crying. “Yeah, okay.”

He grins back. “Let’s get downstairs. I’m starving. You go pick the movie and I’ll order us some grub.”

Nodding, I go downstairs to find what I want to watch. And I’m actually smiling.

My dad loves me endlessly. He said as much.

That gives me more comfort than anything ever will.

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