Setting Sun

School Is Hell

Bounty's mane whipped around her hands. They put her heels to his sides, giving him one more spurt of speed and just enough momentum to launch himself over the last jump with less than a second to spare. They heard the anguished scream of the rival school's captain as her name was called over the intercom, giving them the credit of winning the three-day event as she patted Bounty's sweaty neck and promised him a good bath and lots of hay...

"Leslie-Anne?"

They flinched. Her math teacher was giving them an unimpressed look over the rim of her glasses.

"Pay attention, would you?" Ms. Simmons asked. "Your leg shaking is rattling the desk and giving me a migraine."

Leslie ground her teeth against the urge to bounce their leg directly against the desk in retaliation. "Yes, Ms. Simmons."

"Now that you've caused my head to ache, why don't you be the one to answer the question on the board?"

She'd rather do anything but. Stiffly standing up, they snatched the whiteboard marker out of her teacher's hand and made their way to the board. The question looked daunting and was almost impossible to read.

"Evaluate: a). 2/5 + [-(3/7)] b). -(2/9) + 1/6 c). -(2/3) x 1/4 d). 7/12 ÷ [-(1 3/4)]"

Mother of god. Was this even math? "I'm sorry, Miss, I don't speak computer jargon."

"Just answer it," Ms. Simmons sighed as a stifled snicker came from the desk at the very front.

Leslie tried. She squinted at it, tilted their head and tried to kick her previously-daydreaming brain into math gear. It took a second to cough out a random string of numbers that seemed about right.

The marker squeaked against the board as they wrote, trying to keep her handwriting from tilting down to the bottom of the writing space. After a few seconds of writing, erasing and writing again, Leslie capped the marker and turned to Ms. Simmons.

They watched the teacher read over her answer before giving them a curt nod. "You are correct. You may sit down."

"Nice job," the kid in the very front desk whispered. Leslie ignored them, too eager to get back into her daydream about winning the cross-country Olympics with Bounty Hunter.

Bounty Hunter was Leslie's Welsh Pony, trained in cross-country and with a jumping height that put his standing height to shame. Leslie-Anne found him when he was a boarder's pony, back then known as Bucky and fresh off the fields of a schooling barn. Leslie knew he was for her the moment they met him, further proved it by going out of their way to bond with him and finally sealed the deal by talking to his then-owner into letting her ride him in a local show. They won second place, got caught in the rain together and Leslie had to be peeled away from him when it was time to head home. Seven-year-old Leslie begged their mother to buy him and spent just about every waking moment they weren't at school in the barn: grooming Bucky, talking to him, hanging out in the stall with him. Bucky's owner offered him to them under the conditions of them slowly paying off his original price and Leslie got her first pony.

Now 25, Bounty Hunter was really showing his age. He couldn't jump more than two feet, he had a hard time cantering for a long time and he went lame rather quickly. It was time for him to retire.

But Leslie could still daydream about winning the world's eye with her beloved old man by their side.

"LESLIE-ANNE CATRINE!"

Leslie jolted again, as did most of the class. Ms. Simmons breathed heavily out her nose as she rubbed her temples.

"Stop. Bouncing. Your leg," she said shortly. "Please. I already have a headache."