Calculus of the Heart

Chapter 2

I wake up the next morning feeling groggy and unrested. My alarm blares insistently, and I smack it off with more force than necessary. After a quick shower and a few minutes wrestling with my hair in the mirror, I throw on my favorite jeans and a T-shirt with the phrase "I Put the 'Pro' in Procrastination" emblazoned on it. As I head downstairs, Max follows at my heels, hoping for a breakfast snack.

Dad's already in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the morning paper. He looks up with a smile as I grab a piece of toast and smear peanut butter across it.

"Morning, Ella. How'd you sleep?" He asks.

"Not bad," I lie, taking a bite. "Just the usual back-to-school jitters, I guess."

He nods knowingly and hands me a banana. "Eat this too. You need brain food for that calculus class of yours."

I roll my eyes playfully. "Yeah, thanks to Ms. Reynolds, I'll need all the brain power I can get."

"You'll do fine. Just give it some time." He pats my shoulder, and I grab my bag, giving Max a quick pet before heading out the door.

The ride to school is brisk and uneventful. I find Jess leaning against the flagpole, engrossed in her phone. Her face lights up when she sees me.

"Hey! Ready for another thrilling day at Hillcrest High?" she asks sarcastically.

"Totally. Just can't wait to see what fresh hell Ms. Reynolds has in store for us today," I reply with equal sarcasm.

Jess laughs. "Don't let her get to you. Just think of her as a math-loving robot who's programmed to torture students."

I snort, shaking my head as we make our way to our lockers. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

When the bell rings, we part ways, and I head to calculus, bracing myself for another round with Ms. Reynolds.

The classroom is already buzzing with chatter when I walk in. I spot an empty seat in the middle row and slide into it, setting my bag down beside me. Ms. Reynolds stands at the front, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room as she writes on the board with quick, precise movements.

"All right, everyone, settle down," she commands, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife.

The chatter fades as we all turn our attention to her. She's wearing a green blouse and casual pants, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her expression is as stern as it was yesterday, making it clear she means business.

"Yesterday, we covered some introductory material. Today, we're diving deeper into calculus," she announces, turning to face us with her arms crossed.

She launches into a lecture on derivatives, writing equations on the board with lightning speed. I do my best to follow along, scribbling notes as quickly as I can, but it's hard to keep up with her rapid-fire explanations.

Halfway through the class, she hands out a worksheet filled with problems that look like they're written in a foreign language. I stare at it, feeling a familiar sense of dread creeping in.

"This is due at the end of the period," Ms. Reynolds says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I exchange a glance with the student next to me, who looks just as overwhelmed. I mutter under my breath, "This is insane. There's no way we can finish this in time."

Ms. Reynolds's head snaps up. "Ms. Sullivan, do you have something to add?"

I hesitate, feeling the eyes of the entire class on me. My frustration gets the better of me. "Yeah, I think it's ridiculous to expect us to do all this work in one class period. We're not all math geniuses."