Susan x Neil

(1)

Monday morning, first period, maths. Thirty-three percent. Susan turned the test paper over so she wouldn't see the number, but the red marker showed through the other side. It was the first time maths had made her chest hurt.

School had never been much fun for Susan. She had below-average looks, was overweight and didn't have the kind of bubbly personality that made people forgive you for being fat and ugly. It didn't matter, though. She had a game plan.

Nobody disliked her. Nobody ignored her or avoided her. They included her in conversations, invited her to parties. But she was very aware of her place.

When it came to boys, well, not much to report. She'd never been asked out, which was fine by her. If she really put herself out there, really tried to make the absolute best of everything she had, best case scenario she might attract the attention of her opposite number on the boy's side. The guy who always got picked last when choosing teams.

She didn't want that guy. He was probably very nice, whoever he was, but no thanks.

Hypocritical? Sure. But the way she felt about Gets-picked-last gave her a pretty clear idea of how someone like her was viewed by boys. She was doing them both a favour.

Not that she had anything against relationships. She definitely saw marriage in her future. Someone she'd meet at university or possibly a workplace romance. Maybe a divorced forty year old she'd catch on the rebound. Who knew? She was sixteen, no need to worry about that now.

Academically, Susan had always been a B+ student without trying. It figured that if she really applied herself, she'd achieve impressive results. It was school, after all. They weren't being taught anything truly difficult to understand. Most kids were just lazy or busy having a good time.

Good times held little interest for Susan. While everyone else enjoyed the sunshine of their youth, Susan charged forward in pursuit of scholastic excellence. A top university, a rewarding career, plenty of money and plastic surgery as needed—these were her goals.

The results spoke for themselves. First in French, history and geography. First by a mile in English. Top three in everything else. Until today.

Thirty-three percent was definitely not part of the plan.

She never had problems with maths before. She considered it one of her better subjects. Lately, though, things had been getting harder to grasp. A little unclearer in their workings.

And then quadratic equations.

Thirty-three percent impressed no one. The road to success was not signposted with a speed limit of thirty-three.

This needed to be rectified immediately.

Mr Chambers began the lesson by going over the solutions to the test. He rapidly wrote out the questions on the electronic board at the front of the classroom and equally quickly filled in the answers, but Susan had no idea how he had arrived at them, even though he explained as he wrote. He was a terrible teacher who only wanted to rush through the syllabus as fast as possible and go home. If Susan's game plan had any chance of being realised, she'd have to look elsewhere for help.

Around her, people chatted and compared scores.

"Hey, Cutlass got a hundred again."

"What a swot. Who the hell gets a hundred percent on a test?"

Susan's eyes wandered over to the other side of the room where Neil Cutlass sat sideways on his chair, his back against the wall, reading a book. He always came top in maths, often with a perfect score. If anyone could help her, it would be him.