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Francesca Copes with Failure

For most students, it was a beautiful Tuesday morning. But the same cannot be said for Francesca.

Her eyes awash with tears, Francesca's face was nowhere near the cheerful and innocent lady I affectionately knew and loved. Here she was walking towards me, her head bowed down in distress and pain.

Francesca sat down, and before she uttered even a single word, spread her arms and offered an embrace. Ever the dedicated and trusty friend, I hugged a hurting Francesca to console her.

"Christine, I'm a miserable failure," she tearfully mumbled.

"Why did you say that?" I questioned her. "You're not a miserable failure."

Francesca promptly opened her bag and revealed a test booklet inside it.

"I couldn't believe it," I harshly commented on Francesca's test results. "How come?"

"It wasn't my fault," she admitted to me. "The advanced calculus exam was just extremely difficult. I studied thoroughly at this, only to fall a few answers short."

Francesca bowed down and wept anew. All the emotional tears she shed must have wiped her makeup away.

But that was not the end of Francesca's personal troubles. As she rummaged her bag anew, Francesca retrieved another booklet with an 'F' grade written on it.

"And this one was for statistics," Francesca bitterly said as she presented the booklet. "Again I studied intently on this subject but fell short."

At that critical moment, Claire arrived and offered some much-needed comfort to her long-time schoolmate.

"This should have never happened, ever," Francesca tearfully whispered as Claire hugged her. "Failure isn't always on my vocabulary, but it did happen."

"Christine, I feel terrible for Francesca," Claire commented. "It's challenging to see her despondent and dispirited."

Francesca soon regained her composure and stared at the booklets anew. Meanwhile, I cautiously opened my bag and gently picked up the cookie jar that she ordered.

"This should cheer you up," I promptly presented the jar and placed it on the table.

"Are these my cookies?" Francesca naturally wondered.

"Indeed," I smilingly assured her. "This jar and all the cookies inside are yours now."

Francesca gradually opened the delicate glass jar and carefully picked up one oatmeal cookie. Upon munching on the first bite, the terrible misery that filled her face gradually turned to joy.

"These are delicious," Francesca commented. "You must have made it yourself."

"Not just me, though," I heartily responded. "My parents carried all the work themselves."

Intrigued, Claire opened her palms and asked Francesca for one of the cookies. She happily obliged.

"Mmmm..." Claire reacted upon grasping a piece of the chocolate chip cookies. "Your homemade cookies are the best, Christine."

Just then, I immediately provided Claire a business card in case she decides to order one of the jars.

"So, any plans of opening a physical stall or store?" Claire asked.

"To be honest, my parents were just a few days into the business, and they're basically testing the market," I replied. "For now there's no plan for a physical store but if it becomes popular we could consider it."

But even as Francesca enjoyed some of my cookies, the pain and misery inside her heart could never wash away. So Claire and I accompanied her to the school garden in hopes of cheering her up.

Just as we neared the garden, however, one of Francesca's classmates suddenly showed up. The girl called her out and went on a teasing spree.

"You are such a failure, Francesca" she mockingly yelled at her. "You're an idiot."

At that point, Claire stepped in to staunchly defend her schoolmate.

"And what in the hell you blabbering about, jerk?" she harshly replied back.

As Francesca hid behind my back, Claire and the girl continued to engage in a verbal duel. It then escalated to a catfight which brought the attention of the entire school.

Eventually, the two ladies were forcibly restrained by the other students. The incident brought the attention of the discipline office who promptly escorted Claire and the unnamed girl inside.

Meanwhile, Francesca and I walked towards the garden and marveled at the exquisite flowers. But even as we relaxed and enjoyed the scenery, Francesca continued to harbor some doubts.

"You still don't look happy," I approached her with a concerned look on my face. "Was it about the two failed tests again?"

"I couldn't really eradicate them," Francesca softly replied. "What if some bully came out to mock my shortcomings? There's always fear lurking in the shadows."

"You should not worry about that," I sternly reminded Francesca. "Failure happens sometimes, but the best we can do is to move on and study harder. That's it. If you fail terribly, then keep on trying until it becomes successful. And that's how I became an honor student."

Encouraged by my impassioned speech, Francesca started smiling and hugged me. Suddenly the emotional pain that enveloped her heart gradually vanished and her cheerful disposition soon returned.

But just as Francesca and I were having some fun, she unexpectedly looked at her watch.

"Christine, don't you have class to attend to?" Francesca instantly reminded me. "It's already 9:30, you know."

The two of us instantly left the garden and walked back to campus. It was off to class for both Francesca and myself, but not before some final remarks.

"Thank you for the delicious cookies and for lighting the fire out of me," Francesca gleefully said. "Your words were very encouraging."

"No problem," I earnestly answered. "As long as you have me, everything will be fine."

After a short hug, Francesca and I went our separate ways. Upon walking upstairs, however, Claire suddenly showed up.

"So what happened to you and that girl?" I inquired her.

"We were only issued a warning," Claire revealed. "The next time we had a fight like that, they won't hesitate to suspend us."

"From now on Claire, you better stay out of trouble," I sternly reminded her. "Fighting inside school property is unacceptable."

"I know," Claire humbly admitted.

We went our separate ways after that brief conversation. At that moment, Michelle and Ella showed up for media ethics class.

"Are you ready?" Ella eagerly asked.

"Definitely," I nodded in approval.

All of us promptly opened our bags and retrieved the printed essays. We were all ready to submit the papers, except...

Will media ethics push through? Will Christine's hard work pay off? Find out on the next chapter.

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