Perspective [Zarry]

02

"Okay everyone, I'm handing your tests back and we're going to go over them while we still have time left." Zayn's math teacher said, standing in the front of the room holding the tests they all just took.

In this class, his third class of the day, Zayn had the pleasure of sitting right behind Harry.

He couldn't count how many times he wanted to take a pair of scissors and cut those curls.

His head was so big his hair always seemed to be in Zayn's face.

"I'm so not looking forward to this." Harry said to anyone around that was listening.

Which was everyone because they all seemed to drool over him.

"I'm terrible at math, never been able to understand it." He added.

"Ugh, this is giving me anxiety." Harry said, fanning himself.

His curls blew back and hit Zayn's nose, making him want to scream.

Instead, he just sat back with a heavy sigh.

"What'd you get, Harry?" Someone asked as Harry got his test back.

"104." Harry smiled.

"But you said you didn't understand math." Another person chuckled.

"I don't. This just sort of happens to me, I've never understood it. I barely try yet here I am with all A's and scholarships falling in my lap left and right." Harry said.

"I understand it. You sucked dick to get test answers since freshmen year." Zayn muttered.

"Mr.Malik I'd like to see you after class." The teacher said as he handed Zayn his test.

Zayn looked at his grade, honestly wanting to laugh.

He got a 2.

Zayn sat there looking over all of his wrong answers until the bell rang.

Then with a sigh, he got up and went over to his teacher's desk.

"Zayn, you're failing math." He said, looking up at him from where he was sitting.

"I know." Zayn said quietly.

The one who didn't know was his mother.

The teacher gave him a look. "You need to start staying after for tutoring, Zayn."

"I can't, I don't have a ride home. My mom works all the time. Even if I did have a ride and stayed, I'll never understand this. I've never understood it and I never will. The second I start to, you change it and I'm told I'm doing it wrong. I'm done. I just can't." Zayn said, shaking his head.

"Just trying to figure it out makes me feel so overwhelmed and angry."

The teacher sighed. "Well I don't want you to fail."

"I don't want to either. I can't, my mom will probably murder me and make it look like an accident. There has to be another way. What about extra credit? Please?" Zayn asked desperately.

The teacher stared off, thinking. 

"My nephew is in charge of the school play this year. He's been bugging me about it because people haven't been showing enough interest."

"If you go and audition, and get in and perform in the play, as a favor not only to me but to my nephew, I'll...pull some strings to help you pass. But you have to work hard too, this is no freebie. I want to see real effort from you. Try asking more questions in class, or ask Harry when we do partner work. He has the highest grade in class and he's such a nice boy, I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping you."

Zayn stared at him for a moment, trying to process all that he'd just heard.

"So...you want me to audition and be in the school play for extra credit?" Zayn frowned.

"Yes. According to my nephew you don't even have to know any parts of the script to audition or get in, so don't worry about that. Consider this an assignment because without extra credit, I don't see you passing this class."

"Fine. When are the auditions?" Zayn sighed.

"After school today."

"I can't stay for that I don't have a ride." Zayn almost snapped.

"I'll have my nephew give you a ride home when it's over, okay?" The teacher asked.

"Okay." Zayn said quietly, just then realizing what he'd gotten himself into.

There was no way he could get up in front of a crowd and perform.

He couldn't even ask questions in class without his heart pounding in his chest and his hands shaking.

"Don't forget, after school in the auditorium." The teacher called as Zayn left the classroom in a daze.

He couldn't stop thinking about how awful this was going to be.

How trapped he was now.

It was either this or fail math and have his mother skin him.

Zayn started to lose his ability to breathe, having to use the wall for support.

He needed air.

Fuck these hallways were so small, and only getting smaller.

Zayn rushed towards the front doors, hoping a cloud had moved in front of the sun.

He hoped with every bit of him it was just a cloud, and he wasn't close to passing out.

Zayn managed to get outside, dropping his bag and sitting on the top step, gripping the railing.

He forced himself to take deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to imagine he was somewhere else.

He was missing lunch.

Niall would be looking for him.

He was probably going to be late to his next class.

He had to stay after school and audition in front of a bunch of other people.

He wasn't an actor, he couldn't act.

People would stare.

People would laugh.

Zayn was crying now.

As if that's what he needed.

He grabbed handfuls of his hair, giving it a good tug and trying to gather himself.

He stared down at the step below him where his feet rested, his head in his hands and his tears dripping from the tip of his nose.

So much worry was filling his body he felt like he was going to explode.

Worry about the play, about his anxiety, about riding home with his math teacher's nephew who he'd never met, about making a fool of himself.

And there was no way out.

He was stuck.

It felt as if his body was wrapped in chains, being pulled down by cinder blocks into thick, muddy water.

Fuck.