Gemotions

The curveball assignment had been a joke. A flimsy piece of work. Honestly, the professor should have seen the quality of his submissions. He'd practically gifted them with a passing grade. Liam bounced on the balls of his feet as he approached the front of the classroom, a near-constant grin plastered on his face. He'd even taken the liberty of adding a few insightful sentences, just to make sure the professor appreciated his brilliance.

“Liam Peterson,” the professor called out, and Liam's shoulders straightened. He was ready for the applause, or at least a nod of acknowledgement. He practically skipped to the front, taking the paper with a flourish.

Then, he stopped. A 'C-'. A wave of heat washed over him, a burning flush that crept up his neck and into his ears. He turned the paper over and over, as if expecting the grade to change. It wouldn’t.