Every Time I Check My Score, It Resets to Zero Chapter 01

As Brookhaven’s resident prodigy, I walked out of the SAT exam room, cross-referenced my answers, and calmly wrote “1570” on my score projection sheet.

Mr. Leonard Hale, my homeroom teacher, was grinning from ear to ear. That very night, he helped me map out my applications to Eastbridge University and the rest of the elite tier on my list.

But on the day scores came out, I typed in my credentials with complete confidence, only for the score portal to flash one brutal number across the screen.

“How is it zero?” I shouted, panic ripping through my voice. “I filled out every single question!”

My parents and teachers all tried to comfort me.

“Elena, we know what you’re capable of,” they said. “Don’t be scared. Take another year. We’ll be right here with you.”

No matter how confused I was, I had no choice but to grit my teeth and repeat the admissions cycle.

The second year, I drilled every solution into my memory. I checked my scantron sheet over and over until my eyes hurt. Even with a conservative estimate, I should have scored a 1580.

But when the score portal once again spat out that stark, impossible 0, I broke down completely.

That time, no one comforted me.

My parents and my teachers all went cold. They said I might have developed some kind of “academic burnout syndrome.”

This year was my third time going through this hell.

Once again, I sat in front of the score portal.

…

The red number sat in the center of the computer screen like a fresh wound.

The living room was dead silent.

I stared at it, my hand frozen over the mouse, my fingertips trembling so badly they went numb.

This was my third year trapped in this nightmare.

And this year, I still remembered every solution clearly. Every math problem. Every passage. Every bubble on the answer sheet.

My conservative estimate was still a 1580.

But now, the screen still showed that same zero.

“How is it zero again?”

I shot to my feet so fast the chair legs screeched across the floor.

“I filled out every question!”

Uncle Victor Lang slammed his mug onto the coffee table, splashing tea everywhere.

“Come on, Elena. Humoring yourself is one thing, but saving face at a time like this?”

“I’m not making things up.”

I turned to my mother, my voice constricting.

“Mom, I really filled it out. I even solved the complex grid-in questions on the advanced math section.”

Mom didn’t look at me.

She lowered her head and started clearing the snacks from the counter, moving slowly on purpose, as if stalling.

“Elena, it’s okay to fail an exam.”

She dropped an apple core into the trash.

“But you have to be honest.”

My heart went cold.

“Mom, you don’t believe me either?”

Aunt Denise let out a sharp little laugh and tossed a pistachio shell into a bowl.

“Believe you? The whole family has been carrying this embarrassment for two years. Your parents even sold their car so you could take another crack at it. Do you have any idea what you’ve put them through?”

Uncle Victor leaned back against the couch and sighed.

“Elena Chase, I know you’ve got a lot of pride.”

He lifted his mug and blew across the tea.

“But all those solutions in your head? They never made it onto the answer sheet.”

“I bubbled them in!”

I pointed at him, my whole body shaking.

“What gives you the right to call me a liar?”

Uncle Victor froze, his mug suspended halfway to his mouth.

Then my father suddenly stood.

The slap caught me hard across the cheek.

“Are you done throwing tantrums?”

My cheek burned.

My ears rang.

I pressed a hand to my face and looked around at the family members crowding the living room.

Every single one of them wore the same expression.

Disappointment.

Disgust.

No.

This was impossible.

There had to be something wrong with the Wi-Fi or the laptop.

“I want to check on another device.”

My voice shook, but I forced the words out.

Mom’s hands paused over the snacks from the counter.

“Fine.”

She pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to me.

“Check.”

I took the phone.

My palm was slick with cold sweat, and the phone nearly slipped from my hand.