We walked in silence toward the parking lot. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the asphalt, and a cool breeze carried the promise of autumn. Cassidy kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead, but I could see the tension in her jaw, the way she chewed on her bottom lip.
"You know," I said as we reached the Lexus, "a there's always time to turn a D into a B."
"I thought we weren't talking about my grades," she said sharply.
"We're not. We're talking about letters of the alphabet. D is just a letter. It can change to a C or a B or even an A."
She rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like one of those motivational posters in the guidance office."
"Fair," I admitted, unlocking the car. "But I mean it. We've made progress. You're understanding the concepts better. The grade just hasn't caught up yet."
She slid into the passenger seat, immediately fiddling with the radio. "Whatever."
