All this teenage angst

Chapter 3

I was walking on my way home, which currently was my sister's place when a cricket jumped on the bottom of my school pants. I stopped for a second and contemplated shaking it off and decided not to and carried on walking. Crickets don't bother me and I was to exhausted to really care. It was the start of the school year and 12th grade was kicking my ass thorough.

 Today was especially tough and I was emotionally and mentally drained and the double math period at the end of the day really finished me off. Here's the thing, I suck at math and I am aware that this does not make me special as there are many others in the struggle. This does not make me feel better because I still have to do it anyway and I am...terribly. Absolutely, horrifically. My math teacher takes this personally so she tends to call on me in class for answers. Now I understand that she means well but I'm an introvert so chances are that even if I do have an inkling as to what is happening on that board my mind instantly goes blank.

This is usually how it plays out: "Miss Mirza, can you please explain (insert math problem here)?

"Excuse me Ma'am. Can you please repeat the question?"

Someone in the back sniggers because this is routine. I usually ask to give my brain some time to catch on to what is going on while simultaneously praying that God helps out. Neither happens. My face flushes. She repeats the question extra slow as though I am a moron, which to be honest I probably am. I mutter I don't know, bullshit a wrong answer or if I am lucky enough, give a half right one which is a bit of a relief as I get to keep some of my dignity. She closes her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment and finishes up the answer. Anywho, every single day since school opened  a few weeks back, the class has witnessed my humiliation and it is starting to bother me. And it bothers me that it bothers me.

I pass the old car on the side walk in front of Aisha's house. Aisha is my sister's best friend and neighbour. I make it up the steps to the gate. I remember Jiminy Cricket and glance down at my leg just as he hops off. You're welcome. The back of my school shirt is sticking to me and my shoulders ache from my heavy book bag. I stare at the house that has been my home for the last couple of months. Home is putting it strongly, for now I sleep on the couch and feel like a mild inconvenience to everyone,especially when it comes to things I need. Zai, my sister constantly tells me that this is home. But that is what I was told exactly a year ago too. I open the gate and escape into the cool house.