I button up my blazer tighter to cover a bruise on my mid-chest. Ew, I look like a nun. I pull my skirt up higher and then realize the backs of my thighs are covered in all kinds of marks, then pull it back down and hitch my knee high socks up higher. I see a guy on a bench scan his eyes up and down quickly and I smile at him, but he just looks back down. I should have left my skirt up and my shirt down. I hurry through the park and try to avoid anyone from school. I clutch my backpack straps harder as I reach the exclusive gated neighborhood I live in now. My bag feels like it weighs three hundred pounds. The report card is a brick that gets heavier with each step I take. I can already feel the sting of his hands on my thighs. He's going to be so angry. By the time I reach my front door, I'm shaking, unable to breathe. My lungs are tiny and I can't fill them with air. I turn my key in the hole and step into the foyer, swallowing as I look around. "Daddy?" My strained voice echoes through the house. I drop my bag on the floor and fish around for the report card. When I find it, my heart beats harder. I slowly begin the climb upstairs. Oh God, what's he going to do to me? I failed almost everything. I knock on his door, and I hear the bed creak. "Come in." I turn the knob and step inside. He sits up. "What is it?" "I have my report card." My hands shake violently. He laughs. "Oh goody. Come here." I shuffle over and press it into his hand. He pulls it out of the little envelope and unfolds it. I stare at my shoes. I hear him snort. "Really? God, you're stupid." I bite my lip. "Did you look at this?" "Yes." "Well I'm surprised you even brought it to me." "I have to get it signed." He laughs and grabs a pen, sloppily scrawling his name on the line. "I'm very concerned about your daughter," he reads from the comments box. "She doesn't seem to understand any of the material." I look up at him through my bangs. "Daddy, it's too hard." "No, you're just stupid." I run a hand through my hair and try not to cry. "I feel that Reyna is a special girl, but she can't seem to grasp anything we do." That must be from Mr. Andersen. "Oh look, Reyna. You even got a little note from the counselor. You're so stupid, they want to move you back to sixth grade." Then I start crying. "It's so hard, Daddy! It's not my fault! It's too hard! I can't do it!" He stands up and slaps me hard across the cheek. "Shut up. Everyone else can do it. Why do you think that is?" I take a deep breath. "Because I'm stupid." "That's right. Now get on the bed." I sigh and unbutton my shirt, then let it fall to the floor with the rest of my school uniform. He smirks at me and snaps his fingers as if to hurry me along. I sit on his bed and stare up at him. He makes a circular motion with his finger and I reluctantly roll onto my stomach. I close my eyes tightly while he reminds me what a disappointment I am.