Waking up to the sound of my alarm tonight was harder than I thought it would be. But through my fear of my math teachers, I can conquer many things.
My books lay in a mess of colored pencils, and a mug of cold coffee I served half an hour ago but forgot to take a sip of. There are also notebooks I still haven't used. All of it is shuffled together above my desk table that is lit by the yellow light emanated from a lamp sitting above it.
The only thing that's sort of organized among the mess is the stack of flashcards on which I have been scribbling on all night.
Time has to be one of the most annoying things in life. It passes slowly when you get yourself in trouble, or when you're around people you don't like. But the worse is when you need it to slow down for the love of God. Because you know you won't possibly be able to study enough of the material you need for your test. That's when time pulls you a big middle finger.
At this rate, I won't even be able to keep my C minus in math. After the test tomorrow I'll land at an F. Well, technically after the test today, since it's already four in the morning. I could swear I began studying only an hour ago, but it's already been three hours.
What's more depressing is that I'm still not sure I understand these quadratic equations and geometric progression things any more than before I opened my books.
Who am I kidding? I can't do this without Mara. But I can't bring myself to ask again after I ruined our study session last night with my crush problems.
At this point I'm still scanning my books and flipping through pages, but it's all mechanical. I can't focus. And quite honestly, I don't have the talent for mathematics anymore. The mathematician in me died when middle school ended.
I can recognize it when my brain enters strike mode. That is now.
If I try not to be pessimistic, it's just one more grade. Finals will only come in three months. My flashcards won't be that useful this time around. I have no idea what I even wrote on half of them. But I'm sure I'll thank myself later. On the negative side of things though: I'll be walking on eggshells around Mrs. Gilbert until I'm able to redeem myself with a B at least.
I don't even know how that would happen after a C minus and a likely F after this test.
Mom won't join the party this time at least, since she doesn't care enough to ask about my grades anymore. I have that in my favor.
I have the feeling it is just a matter of time until she starts bothering me again though. Call it what you want: masochism, Stockholm syndrome. But sometimes I catch myself wishing she'd get back to her detective mode again. Her normal self. At least then, I will know what she's thinking. I don't like to have to guess her thoughts while picking glances at her during chokingly silent dinners.
I'm torn between staying awake until it's time to go to school or sleeping during the time I have left. Three short hours of sleep won't amount to much, but I eventually surrender to my tiredness and slump on my bed sheets with my clothes on.
When I wake up, I stay half awake in my bed for a long time, brought out of sleep by the half empty window I forgot to close before I was too tired to think of anything other than sleep.
When the alarm clock above my nightstand rings I try to shut it with a slap, but the gadget tumbles down to my mattress and I catch a glimpse of the screen. It's 7:30 am.
I jump out of my bed panting and shove everything above my desk inside my backpack. Shit, shit, shit. Thirty minutes to get to school. Cindy, please help me.
I'm pleading for Cindy's help even when I run to the bathroom and splash water onto my face and brush my teeth with less than ten strokes of the toothbrush.
My bicycle could help me get to school ten minutes late, but it is still not recovered from the last incident of teleportation.
My idea is dangerous, but it is the only thing that could save me right now: to be teleported to school.
However, there's no sign of Cindy when I leave the house and open the metallic gate to head to the street. Not even when I get to the end of the 10th street.
It's when I'm jaywalking across the narrow street that I feel a breeze brush my ears, lifting the edges of my hair and a warm gleam rise to my eyes, enveloping my neck. It ascends and to my face faster than I can shield my eyes.
When I open my eyes, I'm in the school bathroom. Cindy is here too, dressed in a red dress that sticks to his body, and wearing a hair of the same color. He's inspecting himself in the mirror.
My heart jumps inside my chest when a senior enters the bathroom. I inspect my hair, my schoolbag, and clothes. Nothing is missing, no tears, I'm whole. Cindy is inside the mirror now, as if he was a red doll trapped inside a box. He blinks at me and mumbles, "Good luck."
I will need luck, for sure.
I smile at him bashfully and head to class. In the end I make it to the classroom five minutes before Mrs. Gilbert.
Mara has been reading her flashcards since my arrival. I don't even dare scouring among the mess inside my backpack to find mine. They wouldn't be useful anyway. I don't disturb her, but I can't help wondering if she still mad at me.
"Alright," Mrs. Gilbert says in a firm tone from her desk, "you've had two weeks to prepare for this test. I don't want to see any books, notebooks or flashcards above your desks in three, two, one."
The sounds of folding paper and books buckling, and backpacks zipping fill the room. I place my backpack obliquely behind my chair and glance at Mara again. Still not looking at me. She looks nervous, which is unusual for her.
From the dark circles around her eyes, I can tell I am not the only one who missed sleep last night. The only difference is that her missing sleep would pay off and mine wouldn't. And I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth once Mrs. Gilbert places the test in front of me.
"You can begin," she says with a frown as she scans the watch on her wrist. "An hour and a half counting from now," she says.
The test is a stack of six pages, which I flip back and forth: The position of a projectile at thirty seconds after being fired, products factorization...I keep flipping, just making sure I can't solve any of this. Mrs. Gilbert is aware of it, judging by the way she looks at me. Damn those demon eyes.
Usually, she would cast me a look of disapproval but this time she almost looks at me with pity. Mara was looking at me too, even though she quickly turns away when I look at her.
The good thing about tests you fail is that time passes surprisingly fast when you take them. The test didn't go well; no surprise there. But I'm glad to turn it in when the bell rings.
I find refuge in the bathroom, initially hoping Cindy will still be there. But he's not. I close myself inside the cleanest stall I can find and use my phone to keep at bay any negative thoughts. The test, Mrs. Gilbert. It's sad to admit that right now Mara and Jord fit into this category too.
I think about calling Mara before heading to the cafeteria. But the thought of her ignoring my call discourages me from it. I head to our usual spot, almost sure she's not there. But I'm surprised to actually find her here. I walk towards her bashfully as if to ask for permission that come near her.
She welcomes me with a faint smile when she spots me. I sit beside her in silence for minutes, reading uneasiness on her face.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on or what?" I say, timidly, unsure if I'm even ready to listen to her, whatever her piece is. She exhales, then keeps chewing with a gaze aimed at the walls of glass on our left side. "Listen, Mara. I'm sorry for yesterday, okay?"
"No." She shakes her head. "It's not you. I've just been very tired lately. And this test..." she sighs.
I've always wanted to be driven like Mara, be able to set goals and not measure efforts to achieve them. But I don't envy her when just the thought of failing a test makes her sick for a week. It's never as bad as she thinks. At least not for me, but it seems like a B doesn't have the same value depending on whether you're trying to be an astrophysicist or just willing to get out of high school as soon as you can.
"I bet it wasn't as bad as mine," I say, realizing that I won't be able to finish my yet half-full bowl of noodles.
"It was that bad?"
"I think I got four right out of the thirty-two questions. I'm not sure about the other six I attempted to solve. For the rest, I have no idea what Mrs. Gilbert was talking about."
"I'm sorry. Well, at least we'll fail together for once," she says in a sudden lightening of her tone.
I shrug. She won't fail. "You're coming to the party Friday after the game?"
"Jord texted me two days ago. He asked me to come." She's playing with her blue fingernails on the table, eyes looking down. "I'm not sure yet. You know how I feel about this type of things. The drinking and all the rest."
All the rest means sex. Mara seems easy-going enough in school, but she is every type of straights you could imagine: Straight edge, straight A, and well...straight.
I've tried to get her to talk about sex. But while she's capable of listening to me talk about of the what-could-be-s of sex between two guys, she never made a comment of her own. I can't convince her that most seniors are not mindless monsters unable to help themselves from undressing the first girl they set eyes on. And that if you don't touch alcohol, alcohol won't magically touch you. Maybe it's too easy for smart people like her to understand. Or maybe I'm just too stupid to understand her side.
I let go and she eats the rest of her lunch in silence. We come across Jord again in the hallways on our way back to class, but he only cast us a brief glance and a tight smile.
____
Two days later, all of us are shocked when Mrs. Gilbert enters the class with a stack of papers in hand. We know she has our test corrected, but it's a record time even for her.
The tests are delivered in the old woman's old fashion: first the ones graded the lowest all the way up to the best results. It seems like most of the class didn't do very well. I'm even surprised to have done better in the test than five of my classmates.
I still end up with another C minus, but I was expecting worse. Mara's grade is among the top three in the class, but you would think she got an F judging by her sour face. It's a B+.
I remain as discreet as I can during class today, and even take notes of what Mrs. Gilbert is saying, though I still don't understand any of it. Unfortunately, she sees through me. I realize that at the end of the class when I'm ready to leave. Just after the bell has rung. Mrs. Gilbert pulls a note from the stack of paper on her desk.
She calls me. "That's for Mrs. Wang, Jason." She says without even looking my way, sliding the note above her desk.
A written note for Lia warning her my two C minuses in math.
I don't know why Mrs. Gilbert bothers. If she has the brains for all the math she puts us through, she must have the brains to know Lia is never seeing this.