Heart Condition

Chapter One: Sasha Paul

Part One-- Before 

I expected Sasha the way you expected a plane crash; you knew it was entirely possible, but when it finally happened, it took your breath away.

            It wasn’t our first time meeting; he’d been in enough of my classes over the years that I knew his face. And up until his junior year, he’d been the Ferris Bueller of Parks High School; it started the moment he became the left attack wing on the lacrosse team. He ruled the pitch, and everyone knew that he’d get a full scholarship at some small private school when he graduated the next year. Who would have anticipated him to be a math genius? Certainly not me.

            I busted through the door of Ms. Numell’s pre-cal class with my hair stuck to my face and my bag completely drenched in water the sprinkler spat at me as I ran the entire way down Bush Street from my house on Alamo. Which meant my flats were soaked, and I was squeaking my way into my chair.

            “Don’t think I don’t see you, Miss Brighten.” Numell quipped, glancing over her Gucci cat-eyed glasses in annoyance, “I’m aware of your attendance record, and I will not tolerate excuses from the likes of you. Ten minutes late is still late, Miss Brighten. Do you understand?”

            I plopped down in my chair, sliding my oversized backpack under my chair and reciting, “Yes, Ms. N. I’ll try to leave earlier.”

            “There is no ‘try’, Miss Brighten.” She sighed, turned back to the board and started writing out equations. Halfway through her first logarithm, she stopped and placed the pen down, turning to the class “I apologize, class, I must have been so distracted by the intrusion that I forgot to return your tests to you.”

            My heart dropped; it was the first test of the semester, and I knew all the studying in the world couldn’t prepare me for this. As she passed down the rows, I could feel her shadow hover over me, an ominous rain cloud to drench my already shivering ego. Silently she placed my exam on my desk, the paper facedown and filled with endless possible wrong answers. Flipping it over, I saw the little red slash marks; minus two, minus three, double-check your work. A giant glaring 72 on my math test sent me reeling back in my chair. This was so not the business.

            For the rest of class, I took notes with that knot rolling around in my stomach. I wanted to crawl into a dark space and avoid everything.

            When the bell rang, I watched everyone leave, and when most of the students had left, Ms. Numel called to me, “Miss Brighten, might I suggest a tutor? And possibly being tardy less frequently?”

            I nodded, but I didn’t reply.

            Walking out of class, I saw Joy standing against the lockers. She walked up, smiling “How did it go?”

            Handing her the test, I shook my head “It didn’t.”

            Joy’s dark eyes scanned the exam, snipping “This bites! You were so close!”

            “I know.” I agreed, walking with Joy to her locker “I’m never going to pass.”

            Joy stopped, scrolling through her combo, “Not with that attitude! Come on, Bee. Just tell yourself you’ll do better next time.”

            It was easy for Joy to say; she was taking math class at one of the most prestigious science schools in the state. She left early every week to go to her classes, but because she was so busy, she couldn’t tutor me anymore. And I couldn’t tank; not with Berkeley right there, mocking me. The idea that I could be the person taking photos for all those music magazines…I had to do it. But apparently, one needs to pass math before they can do anything remotely radical as take pictures.