In Search of Tomorrow ✓

Seven

"We've talked a lot about focii and the directrix of a conic section," said Mr. Roberts, clasping his hands behind his back as he lectured, "So we're going to work on some application word problems. Note that your unit test is this Friday."

I pulled out my homework journal, which I hadn't used all year, and wrote in Friday's slot: Conic sections test.

"I'm going to assign some textbooks problems and you can work on them, alone or in small groups," our teacher continued. "Work on page 260 problems one through ten, then compare your work with those around you."

As he sat back down at his desk, most likely to grade the rest of the class's conic section tests, I opened my textbook and started to work. Cameron and I hadn't worked on math since our first tutoring session, but since I'd been keeping up in my class, I figured I could work through this without him.

The first problem was near impossible. I read it through five times and then, with a barely resistable urge to throw my textbook out the window, raised my hand. When my teacher didn't see me, I called out, "Mr. Roberts? I need help."

"Ask those around you," he said, not looking up. "Find a solution."

I pushed down the urge to roll my eyes and turned to the guy sitting next to me, who had spiky blone hair and who looked like he knew what he was doing. "Hey, do you know how to do problem number one?" I asked, realizing how dumb I probably sounded.

The guy shoved his paper at me, where he'd already completed the first three problems, and let me read through his work. It still made no sense, but I didn't dare ask him for more help. "Thanks," I said, then pretended to work through the problem myself while really doodling.

I sketched a picture of a rainbow, then a picture of a sun and then hearts...and then a rain cloud, because it seemed like most places I went cumulonimbus always followed the sun. I thought about my parents, how I'd never see them again, about the growing stack of bills ont he kitchen counter, about my poor sisters who would never again know a father's hug...

By the end of class, I hadn't completed a single problem. Mr. Roberts didn't make us hand in the assignment, though, telling us he'd check it tomorow, so I figured I could ask Cameron for help later that day.

I packed up my bags as quickly as I could, and the second I stepped out into the hallway, Cameron was right in front of me. He was carrying what looked like three textbooks in hand and was surrounded by, as usual, his soccer posse.

I wasn't used to him addressing me during the school day, so I was surprised when he called to my retreating back, "Hey! Evelyn!"

The guys around him jeered good-naturedly, but I turned around. I tried to tuck my hair behind my ear, but I realized it was stuck underneath my backpack straps. When had his eyes gotten so blue?

"What?" I asked; then, because I probably looked like all the other drooling girls in this school in which Cameron was the sun and everyone else the orbit, I added, "I'm going to be late for Spanish."

"Then I'll be late for AP Chem," he said in just the kind of voice he used when he was correcting my math problems. I was about to snap at him again, just to take out my pent-up frustration of the bills and my unfinished math worksheet and gosh, even the stain on my shirt, when he said, "Want to sit with me at lunch?"

The jeering increased to one unanimous, immature, "Oohhh" from The Soccer Posse. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at them and tried to get my hair unstuck from my backpack. I wanted more than ever to mess with it out of nervous energy. "Um, sure," I said. "Sure, that's fine."

"Cool." Cameron smiled at me and then turned around, immediately being enveloped in his friends, who were shoving and teasing him as he walked down the hallway.