The Afternoon tea club: 2014 #WATTYS2014

Shelly's Maths adventure No. 1

P.n. This actually happened.

We live in an all girls boarding school, so random behaviour is the norm.

The Tutoring

Shelly's POV (@shellythefairy)

Sitting and waiting for a maths result is one of the most excruciating experiences a mathematically retarded teenager can go through. I jig my leg and play off my anxiety as indifference, and glance around the math classroom- filled with the buzziness of last period of the day, and snort when I notice the only girl in the year with vaguely similar red hair (we shall call her "Mimpy") commando crawling around the floor about a foot from me. Mathematics forgotten, I lean over the desk and snicker down at her.

"What on earth are you doing, Mimpy?"

She tilts her neck at a very awkward angle, and squints up at me over her double chins.

We exchange a look.

She knew that I was just waiting for an invitation.

Ten minutes, one impromptu commando iMovie, many laughing students and one very ticked off teacher later, I hear my name called out.

"Shelly?"

Mimpy and I glance at each other, both of us having wormed our way to the furthest part of the room from our seats. I quickly pop up and attempt to act natural while "helping" the nearest girl. I casually glance up as if I had been there all along.

"Yes, Ms. Holcombe?" I reply as neutrally as possible.

She fixes me with a death glare. She knew how full of crap I was, and I knew I couldn't slime my way out of it that easily.

"What are you doing out of your seat?" She inquires 

I smile sweetly

"Just helping Nina over here" I smile at Nina pleadingly until agreement is confirmed before turning my gaze back to Ms. Holcombe.

She looks at me incredulously for a while before her gaze is caught by a flicker of almost-red hair under the desk, and she grins triumphantly

"And what is Mimpy doing under the desk?"

"Where's my pen?!" Mimpy begins to screech through her laughter while making scrambling motions.

Real suss, Mimpy.

Nina and I glance at Mimpy, and do a double take with shock, as if only just seeing her. Being the generous girl I am, I begin to bend down before being cut off by the teacher's huff of exasperation, indicating she had clearly had enough.

"Mimpy, find your pen. Shelly," she snarls, "Collect your test paper. Return to your seat."

Mimpy and I grimace at each other before going about our separate chores. I flop into my seat in a self righteous manner to let Ms. Holcombe know I appreciated the benefit of doubt she failed to show me.

I know, I had no right. So sue me.

I turn back to the matter at hand, and become nervous. I had been really slack this term, and  antics like the one described were common. Mostly I had kept pretty high scores-But math being my kryptonite, I knew the time to face the repercussions had come.

I turn over the sheet, and nearly die of heart attack.

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I stare down at the atrocity that is my math exam-or more specifically-the grade resulting from it. Even my retarded brain could calculate that 39%=less than 50%= fail. Never before had I failed. Even my worst rarely skimmed below the 70% mark. I quickly brush away the tear. What you saw was brief disappointment, then the usual grin. What was really happening was a goat thrusting its horns into my kidneys and attempting to breakdance horizontally on its head.

I exit the class clutching my stomach and staggering around like Leonardo DiCaprio in Inception and return to the foyer of the boarding house, where I lie on the floor and wait for hell to consume into its eternal pits of fire. When it doesn't, I call my mum.

"Hi, sweet-pea!!"

I cringe, it was on loud speaker. The girls milling around me begin screeching their greetings down at the phone, and I slap a hand over the speaker, glaring at all of them. They shrink back. I return to the call.

"I failed math."

A short silence.

At this time Lucinda and Vine enter the foyer, and like normal people take seats on the lounge and glance down at me sprawled on the ground before resuming conversation.

Mum spoke, her words the epitome of doom.

"Shelly. I have been willing to overlook your previous shortcomings. I have been willing to accept 51%, but a fail will ruin your career if you continue to drop your standards to that level-"

"But mu-" 

"And I know you don't care about math, but in a rapidly advancing environment, today's generation need to learn to accept there is a reason it is compulsory." (Something like that)

I was about to tell her the next time I needed to know the internal angles of a decahedron, I would let her know right away, but was frozen in my smart-Alec tracks with her next words.

"Shelly, you need tutoring."

At this point, Lucinda sat bolt upright and snapped her full attention to the phone, like a little puppy waiting for treats.

"Mum, no-"

I was crushed as Cinda practically launched herself on top of my face and scrambled for the phone.

"I'll do it, Ms. Mitchell!" She nearly screamed at the phone. All protests on my part were slaughtered, I could do no more than wheeze indignantly.

They planned this.

"Fantastic! I really do appreciate this, Lucinda, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ms. Mitchell," the idiot was practically spasming with excitement. I attempt to push her off, to no avail as she readjusted comfortably.

"Then she's in good hands. It seems you two will spend quality time together, and I will save on tuition fees!"

She laughs like the devil himself, then hangs up.

Cinda shoots me a victorious look before throwing back the phone.

I was having no more of this. I wriggle out from under Cinda, shoot her a glare and stalk away ungratefully muttering like an intoxicated walrus.

I hate math.