Chapter 5
FIVE
Sara
As Mr. Day drones on about fractal curves, all I can think about is how fractal sounds like pterodactyl.
Then I try to remember how to spell pterodactyl in the corner of my notebook.
It definitely starts with a p and—ugh. I should pay attention.
How is calculus a requirement to graduate?
It’s so boring. I might perish from boredom.
In fact, I might become the first girl to ever perish from a mind-numbing calculus lesson, and that will forever be my legacy.
Here lies Sara Lin, bored to death by fractal curves.
Eagle Gate High isn’t bad overall. There are around one hundred students total in my senior class and, for the most part, everyone is nice. Except Rose, who—much like her name suggests—has some thorns alongside her sweetness.
It’s funny, because this place felt so gargantuan when I started as a freshman.
Eagle Gate is a red brick building with multiple floors and stairways, but it’s not so bad once you know where you’re going.
(Once I came back from the bathroom and walked into the wrong classroom, which was mortifying, but not as mortifying as my encounter with Subwayboy yesterday.) There are huge windows in every classroom that invite in natural light, and I always try to sit near one so I can pretend I’m outside whenever my mind wanders.
Which is pretty frequently, especially in calculus.
Will I ever use this stuff in the real world?
“Psst, Sara Lin.”
Glancing to my left, I lock eyes with Tammy Yokoyama. She’s this sweet, shy girl who wears these oversized retro glasses every day. We met our first year here in English and have been friendly ever since, sometimes eating lunch together and talking in depth about our favorite K-pop idols.
“I heard you almost had your first kiss last night.”
“Tammy.” I’m horrified. “Why would you bring that up right now?”
“Because I’m bored,” she whispers. “And, hey. It’s your first rejection. Did he really call you a weirdo?”
From the desk directly behind her, Patrick snickers.
I lean in, voice low. “Oh my god, Tammy, how do you even know about—?”
She grins. “Patrick told me.”
Of course.
Rose—who’s sitting right in front of Tammy—whirls around to face me, scowling. “Be quiet, Sara Lin. No one cares about your kissing. I can’t focus.”
Rose does not bother to whisper this, because why would she?
Eyes from all over the room tick over to me.
I flush. Ugh. Can she keep her voice down?
People listen to and respect Rose. She’s a natural leader, which is why she’s president of Newspaper Club, but she was also blessed with looking like a CoverGirl model.
I mean, long blond hair? Perfect skin? Flawless smile?
Why do some people have it all? And she’s smart.
Like, ten times better at calculus than me.
Mr. Day turns from the chalkboard, his attention now on me. “Sara, are you talking during my lecture again?”
Ah! What did I do to deserve this? I’m not the one who started this conversation in the first place!
“I—” I begin.
“No more talking.” He’s already facing the board, chalk tapping as he writes. “Why don’t you see me after class?”
A hot blush creeps into my cheeks. Rose seems satisfied as she resumes taking notes, and I’m forced to stew in my own dread until the bell rings, whereupon I stay seated while everyone else gathers their belongings and exits. At least Patrick gives me a tiny yikes, sorry shrug on his way out.
As soon as the last student leaves, Mr. Day turns to me. “Sara, are you aware of your grade in this class?”
Oh, am I aware that I’ve been marked so low on my last few quizzes I’ve probably offended Sir Isaac Newton from beyond the grave? Unfortunately, yes.
I swallow, my stomach already in knots. “I’m aware.”
“So you know you’re failing calculus.” He opens his grade book and slides his finger to my name. “I know it’s early on in the year, but it’s not looking good. I don’t want you to fall behind.”
Mr. Day teaches all the core subjects to our senior class, which means he’s aware I can fall behind if I don’t get it together.
The worst part is, I try to study hard. Sure, maybe I get distracted texting Patrick or checking Instagram or scrolling through celebrity news or updating my blog—but I’m only human.
I’ve given my all to Mr. Day’s calculus quizzes and, somehow, I’ve ended up doing terribly every time.
“The information tends to go over my head,” I admit. “It’s always been hard for me. I’m not great at math.”
“Well, I want you to succeed. And I’m sure your father would appreciate that, too, so I’m going to recommend a student tutor for you.” He pulls out a folder and searches through it. “You’ll meet after school. That is, if you have some time next week?”
“Yeah,” I say warily. “Okay.”
He shuffles through his paperwork until he finds what he’s looking for. “A-ha—right. Oliver. He’s a new student here, but he comes with excellent recommendations.”
I’m nodding politely even as my confidence sinks below sea level. “Sounds good.”
Mr. Day smiles, peering at me above his bifocals. “I’ve had plenty of students struggle with calculus, Sara. You’re not alone. Extra tutoring can help.”
I tell him I’ll work harder and try to focus better, but inside, my tenacity shrivels like a deflating balloon.
If I can’t kiss a cute boy without it blowing up in my face—and if I can’t pass calculus—is there anything I can do well?
Confidence and grace and intelligence come so easily to people like Rose. Meanwhile, I’m struggling.
What is wrong with me? Am I really destined to begin my eighteenth year as a gigantic failure?
Oh god, anything but that.