2 ; Crash and Burn

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I never hated school. But I never liked it either.

I knew the importance of a good education. And I knew my dad had expectations, for both me and Tyler. I knew I shouldn't complain, because just being able to even get an education was a privilege in itself.

But as I stare down at my equation in calculus I cursed the whole system.

Who invented algebra? And what were they thinking!?

I bite my lower lip in anticipation, stealing a glance at the clock in the front of the classroom. For once, time is going too fast in class. The seconds are ticking by, and I feel my shoulders sag in defeat.

My eyes move to the kid next to me, and to my relief, he looks just as lost as me. I turn my eyes to the paper again, trying to make sense of the numbers written there. 

They don't fit though. They don't fit together. They're just a big mess and I can't sort them out. I don't have the capacity to make sense of the problems.

I huff and bite the tip of my pen. 

Don't bite your pen. You'll get blood-poisoning from the ink. My mothers voice rings through my head. I shake off the thought but release the pen.

Just as I think I'm about to solve a problem, the bell rings and my time is out.

...

"How did it go on the math test?" Hailee asks.

We're standing in the lunch line. I make a grimace and look at her. 

"That bad huh?" 

I nod.

"I just don't understand it. And my teacher is awful. Like, seriously. He's hopeless," I say, flailing my arms around to make a point.

"Get it together. Mr. Hiller isn't that bad. He's just a bit old school," Hailee defends. She's a bit to angelic sometimes.

"He's not old school. He's just plain old. He should be in the grave by now."

Hailee gasp. "You will say no such thing miss Benedetto!"

I slap her arm playfully and we both laugh. "Oh, stop it. We both know it's true."

We chuckle again, her melodic laugh sounding like honey in my ears. It's a laugh I've heard ever since second grade. I remember the day crystal clear. It was life changing.

"Rick! Give it back!" I whine, a pout on my lips. My eyes are watering, but I don't want to cry in front of everybody.

"No, it's mine," Rick says.

"But mom made it for me," I lamely retort.

"So? I don't care. What are you gonna do huh? Go home to mommy and cry?"

My lips start quivering and I cast my eyes downward. I don't want to cry but I can't help it. It's the third time he's taken my sandwich now. I don't even know why. I'm about to turn around and run when I see a swirl of blonde curls come between me and Rick.

"Hey, give it back," the girl says. 

I remain silent but look up. Rick goes rigid, his brown eyes looking between me and the girl.

"Whatever," he says. Then he throws the sandwich in my direction and it lands on the ground.

The girl turns around and I quickly look down, afraid to meet her eyes. She takes my hand. 

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