A H.E.R.O.S PROJECT 12

15. The awkward moment in class

I sit behind Richie in math class.

I hate math.

That's when Number Twelve decides to do a full-body wave. I feel the back of my jacket rising. I cringe, turning to Richie's dumb study buddy friend Foulsey staring at me.

No one else noticed my jacket moving—just Foulsey.

So I say, "I have muscle spasms," to Foulsey. I know what I said makes no sense, but if I act confident, Foulsey will believe me.

Richie's bright eyes gawk at me, fuming in his chair. The same three veins that bulge on Grandpa's forehead mirror Richie's. Richie gets his bad temperament from Grandpa, a trait I'm glad I don't share. "Anaya, go to the bathroom and handle your muscle spasms there so the rest of the class can focus," Richie seethes, his face emotionless.

"Solomon Matthews the Fourth, why don't you come to the board and solve these equations since you find your sister far more interesting than my lecture," our pointy nose, pencil-shaped teacher says, her voice monotone and harsh. She holds up a marker for him. Her dark eyes slide to Richie, her long black hair not moving as she croons her head to gape the room correctly. I cringe, as does every student in their chair. Someone in the front row cries, begging the teacher to stop looking at him.

Why do all math teachers have angular faces and snarky voices?

The sad thing is, I can't remember our math teacher's name. She's told me a dozen times. I call her Miss Pointy Nose.

I look at Foulsey again. "I work out too much. That's why I have muscle spasms. On my back."

Foulsey puckers his big lips together, using his brain for once. I can see his brain turning like a hamster on a hamster wheel. "I thought your foot was fractured? That's what I heard. You're exercising on a fractured foot?"

Foulsey's question surprises me. He's not that dumb, after all.

Richie growls, quickly solving every math problem on the whiteboard without thoroughly looking at them, "GO TO THE BATHROOM AND DEAL WITH YOUR MUSCLE SPASM, Anaya!" he yells.

Foulsey glares at me like he doesn't believe anything I say.

Damn, he's catching on.

"What I mean is, I've been stretching my leg. And only my right foot is fractured. I'm still mobile. I pulled a muscle or two exercising at the gym." Twelve moves again. Damn.

Foulsey glares harder.

I have two options: take out Foulsey or plan B. There are too many people in math class, so I choose plan B.

I tell the math teacher, " Teacher, I'm going to the restroom." I stand and walk with my back to the wall. People start staring at me. "To deal with my muscle spasms because I've been stretching at the gym too much. That's why," I say to everyone. Case closed.

People murmur. Kids cock their heads, thinking about what I said.

I limp to the bathroom.