Memory 1, Week 2

Following on the tangent of horrible genius memories.

It was report card day. While the rest of my peers sat anxious and hot in the almost naked concrete classroom, I twittered with anticipation--a sort of self-satisfied haze at the successful achievement of my good, though ultimately meaningless, grades. When I made it home, my sister and I, always desperate to please (which was a seldom occurence--my stepmother often ruled her home with this ravenous scowl, always seeking satisfaction but never truly achieving it, which creased her cheeks with pulls of failed desire) we went immediately home to show off our report cards. My sister was especially jittery in her excitement (she always has the biggest smile, my sister, which expands the narrow length of her face strangely and almost severely when she's happy) because she had brought her failing science grade up to a C, which was a major accomplishment that my parents drove her to agony over for weeks (if I remember correctly, they took away every scrap of technology until she brought the grade up). I chose a level-headed coolness at the success of my own report card. My stepmother is a tiny woman, but when she's judging you, which is almost all the time, she seems to grow somehow. She took my sister's report card in her hand and scrutinized it with the same hungry folds, teetering and towering. Her mouth grasped satisfaction as she congratulated my sister, showering her with praises and congratulations. My sister glowed in the rare praise. She set down my sister's and I handed her mine. She looked at me and the smile left her face. "What did you get, all A's and B's again?" I nodded. All A's. My accomplishment diminished. She didn't even look at it as she set the paper on the countertop.