Shame Memory- Are You Smart?

"Are you smart?" The casting director asked me. She was speaking to my acting class about applying to colleges. She was a theater person. You could see it in the way she held herself, the way she dressed, the way she spoke, hell, you could almost smell it on her. She was like me, and she was there to guide me on my path to a career in theater. I had great respect for her. 

I was taken aback by her question though. It was so brazen. 

"I- I suppose so..." 

I held it in my hand. It wasn't right. There must be some explanation. My pencil marks are covered in red ink, as if an overzealous child had corrected the test and not my teacher. That explanation is more logical than the one that proclaims itself to be the truth. Because I do not fail. 

The casting director talked more about college theater and the audition process, but throughout the rest of class the question continued to run through my head. Are you smart? I walked out of my class with the question still buzzing around me like a pesty bee. 

The final grades are burning my eyes. The screen fades and then goes black but I can still see the gradebook displayed. It had been a non-honors class. A non-honors class and yet I let it tarnish my record. 

That pesky bee buzzed around me for the rest of the day.