For some reason, the problem on the page seems to come easy to Shigeo.
Of course, that doesn't mean he doesn't find it difficult — the question, 4(-12 + 6) ÷ 3, still doesn't click straight away in his head — but he does find the maths is much more.. easier, now, then before. Maybe it was because he could think clearly now, or maybe it was because he wasn't mixed in with Mob, who couldn't do maths very well, tainting his own abilities. Not that, you know, he was very good at maths either — but Shigeo did have to admit, he did have some more.. understanding of maths then Mob did.
It doesn't really matter, though. Maths is maths; it's still kind of hard either way.
Shigeo clicks the pen cap in and out, in and out. It's like a rhythm, something to do with his hands as he thinks. He doesn't really know why he does it — for concentration purposes, maybe, or just because he liked the sound of it — it doesn't matter much. He has other things to worry about, after all.
Like math problems.
Stupid, dumb math problems.
This one is a bit tricky, but nothing Shigeo hasn't been taught in the past few lessons, and nothing he hasn't seen before. He knows this, hopefully.
By logic, the answer to the question must be 8, since -12 + 6 = -6, and 4 x -6 would equal 24, and 24 ÷ 3 = 8.
Of course, it does come with some doubt when he writes the equation out — what if he did the question wrong? Was he supposed to do 4 x -6 with the ÷ 3, like 4 x -6 ÷ 3, and would that get any different results? Or was he just supposed to calculate the answer like he originally did?
He stares at his work, thinking it over. Maybe he did it wrong. He's not sure. He glances to his previous equations and scans through them — maybe he did something wrong; this isn't the first question with this type of style before.
Calculator? A thought nudges into his head, unprompted. Mob? Do that. Calculator.
Shigeo thinks. Yeah. Okay.
He gets his calculator out hastily, clicks the buttons to turn it on. Types the problem in. He puts a + instead of x, retypes it again, a slight bit of agitation showing up. He pushes it down. He's fine. It's just a simple maths problem anyway. Just a simple mistake.
He types in the sum, and clicks =.
4 x -6 ÷ 3
= -8
So he was right. It was 8.
Wait. No. Shigeo thinks it over, looks at the answer again just to make sure; his vision, this vision, can be tricky to work with. Maybe he'll have to ask Mob to get some glasses or something. He'll think about that later.
It's negative 8, not positive 8. He's got it wrong.
Wait, what?
Shigeo checks his own badly scribbled number down. It is, indeed, a positive number instead of a negative — he does have it wrong. He double checks, swerving his head to the calculator to his math book until it makes him dizzy.
He decides to scrub the false number off his book. He got it wrong, after all. No room for mistakes (even if it is, just, a simple, little maths problem).
Grabbing a rubber from his pencil case, Shigeo rubs out the number. Its slow, the letter getting covered in harsh, dark blotches of pencil instead of.. erasing — this rubber is no use. The number, instead of being gone, is now just covered in pencil lead smudge. It ruined the page.
