"How's the poem coming along?" Mae asked, sitting beside me on the bench while everyone stretched on their own.

"Better than before," I said. "I actually know what I want to say. It's just not procrastinating now."

"Not procrastinating?" she asked. "You do realize the poetry slam is tomorrow, right?"

I sighed. "Don't remind me. I still have to practice and my parents want to come as well. I can just imagine all the teachers going up to them and saying, 'Oh, it is so nice to see you two again. You are definitely better than your son'."

"Ryder, they won't say that," Mae said.

"They won't say it, but...