Arithmophobia

1

Twenty minutes into my statistics class, I was ready to pull my hair out of my head and cry. The numbers were too much, the prof was talking too fast, and almost every student around me looked focused. God, why am I in the course? I thought to myself. I took Psychology to get away from math, not learn more!

As the hour slowly came to an end, I packed up my books as quickly as I could and headed straight for student services. I can't take this class, I'll never pass. There must be a way to make an exception, I thought as I stormed through the burgundy set of doors with a large raven painted on the front. I approached the desk, where an older woman sat, looking into a computer. She looked over at me and gave a small smile. "Hello, dear. How can I help?"

I took a deep breath to compose myself before I opened my mouth to speak. "So, I'm a psychology major, and..."

The old woman gave me a sympathetic look. "Let me guess, you want to drop Statistics? No can do, hun."

I let out an exasperated huff. "Are you sure there's no exception? I've had one class and I already feel far too overwhelmed."

She shook her head solemnly. "I wish I could do more, dear. What I can suggest is going to our website and finding a tutor. There are tons of students willing to help those struggling with first year stats."

I ran a hand through my long auburn hair and sighed loudly. I turned to walk out, pushing the door open. "Okay, thanks for your help, Ms."

She gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you'll do just fine."

As I sped walked towards the student parking lot, I could feel steam coming out of my ears. I approached my beat up old Jeep Cherokee, quickly unlocking the doors. As soon as I was situated in the passenger's seat, I chucked the stats textbook into the cluttered backseat. I let my head hit the wheel, quick hard, and the horn sounded, scaring a group of Applied Science students back towards the science building. I let out a loud groan, stomping my feet on the ground. After a few minutes of letting out my frustration, I started up my car and made the trek back home.

Once I had finally pulled into my driveway, I slumped back in my seat. "I'm going to fail god damn stats and never get my stupid diploma."

A head popped out of the car in the driveway next to mine, a curious look on their face. "How can a pretty girl like you fail stats?"

I looked at the man carefully, a small smile tugging onto my lips. "Maybe if I was pretty I'd pass."

The man shook his head, coming up to the driver's side of my Jeep. "You're very pretty already. So, first year stats?"

I cringed, nodding my head. "You bet. I'm going to be having nightmares about that class for the rest of my life."

He laughed loudly. "You know, I'm a high school math teacher, I could potentially help you out."

I looked at him skeptically. "Potentially?"

I opened the door to my car and scooted passed the man, heading towards my front door. "Yeah, if you go out with me, I'd be more than willing to help you out."

I had now reached my front door, and the man was standing just a few feet from the front porch. "What's your name?"

"James. Yours?"

"Auriela."

He smiled. "A beautiful name, for a beautiful woman. I'll pick you up at seven."

He turned back towards his own home before I could even reply. "Wait, what?"

"Do you want to pass stats or not?" He called from his driveway. I nodded. "That's what I thought, babe. See you at seven. Dress pretty."