I looked down at the fourth and final page of the exam. 22 minutes had passed, and I was still working on the last problem of the test. Why did one-sided limits have to be so freaking hard? Glancing out the window, seniors were starting to wander over to their cars for lunch break.
I glanced around the room, trying to distract myself from the dreaded ERROR sign on my graphing calculator. My hand started to shake. No one was in the classroom. How the hell did they finish so fast?! I had been trying to figure out the last problem for 25 minutes, and they were finished. I knew that I was a slow test taker, but this was just embarrassing. I scanned to Mr. Komplin's desk.
His glasses slid down on his nose from hunching over in his creaky chair while grading. He was a pretty good teacher, but calculus ab was a much harder class than my freshman year pre-calculus teacher said it would be. After the 26th minute on the problem and (finally) an actual numerical answer after five ERRORS in a row, I scribbled my final answer in the blank.
Mr. Komplin glanced up, and his piercing, almost black, eyes met mine over his glasses I shoved my pencil and scratch paper in my backpack and slid out of the desk chair. He had so much faith in me. I was the only sophomore in the school that was taking calculus ab since Andy Pineda. Now he's a third year, Physics and Engineering double major, at M.I.T., so obviously he is a genius. Me, on the other hand, not so much.
Don't get me wrong. I'm highly intelligent for my age, but calculus is not a class that I can get an A (or even a B) in without studying. Breaking eye contact with Mr. Komplin, I looked at the jumbled mess of equations and barely legible proofs on the first page.
Shit. I'm so screwed. I nervously fiddled with my hair before deciding to pull my curly hair up into a ponytail. If only I had done that stupid study guide or paid more attention in class instead of watching the back of Brian's head or the occasional jawline when he turned to Jasmine to ask a question. Maybe then I would've felt like I passed. Grimacing slightly, I slid the (probably) failed exam into the basket.
"Chloe? A word." Mr. Komplin called me back into the classroom startling me with is commanding voice.
"Mr. Komplin," I glanced down at my knock off Doc Martins and gripped my backpack so tightly my knuckles turned white, "I think I know what this is about. I'd just like to start by apologizing for not completing the entire study guide. You know for the test. I know I should have done it, but I couldn't fathom doing 9 continuity problems. And let me tell you about those proofs. They were so long and unnecessarily hard. I really should have done the whole thing, though. I probably would have gotten everything right if I had just… And now I've probably failed—"
"Stop!" Mr. Komplin interrupted, "This is not about your exam."
"It isn't? Oh. Now I just feel like an idiot rambling on like…ah" My grip on the backpack loosened and my aching fingers returned to their natural color. "Sorry, you were saying."
"I'm sure you're fully aware that a student has just transferred here from England. He is a sophomore, like you, and he will also be joining our calculus class. I simply want you to, you know, help him out and maybe give him a tour around the school."
"Oh okay. I'd be happy to. Why me? I mean thank you, but why did you ask me specifically? It's not like I'm the best calculus student or anything like that." I asked.
"I just think that you could use more than two friends. He's new, so he'll need a friend to show him around." He leans in close, "you were born in Scandinavia, correct?" I nodded slowly. "Then let's just say that you two are of the same breed." His eyebrow twitched slightly on the word 'breed.' With that he nodded towards the door, "his name is Alek Petrov, locker 1339. I'll see you on Monday, Miss King."
I nodded and quickly escorted myself out of the classroom, briskly walking towards my locker. How did he know I only had two friends? Why did the name Alek Petrov sound so familiar? And, more importantly, what did he mean by Alek and me being the same breed? Lost in thought, I turned around the corner.
"Oh sorry." I mumbled as I bumped into one of the guys from the varsity basketball team. I realized that I had knocked a stack of about 50 fliers for homecoming all over the floor. "Oh shit. I'm so sorry! Here… ah… let me help you." I reached down to gather up the posters.
He roughly grabbed my arm, "Don't bother. You've already done enough klutzy King." With that, he pushed be away leaving a distinct red hand-shaped mark on my arm. 'That's going to bruise later' I thought as I approached my locker.
My best friend, Amy, was already waiting there with a two coffees.
"You're a lifesaver Amy." I said reaching for the Starbucks.
"I know! Paul and I missed you this morning." Amy looked at my slightly disheveled appearance, "What happened to you?" Amy asked with a slightly worried look on her face.
"A combination of basketball boys, calculus, and helping my mom with her ever stressful dating profile. I think I might have failed my test."
"Well, while that all sounds great, I have something that could cheer you up." She linked arms with me and started strolling down the hallway. "Okay so I know that you have Brian to lust over and all that and you're all sad about your test, the basketball guys, and your mom's newfound popularity with middle aged San Francisco millionaires, but this new guy transferred here from England, and, let me tell you, he is incredibly hot." Amy started mock fanning herself.
"No Amy. I don't really want to be set up with anyone. Didn't you promise me that you weren't going to do this anymore after the last guy? You know the one who threw up on my denim jacket after realizing that he wasn't that into seafood."
"Ew why did you put that mental image in my head. I tried to block out that catastrophe." She cringed, "anyway this guy is for me."
I giggled quietly with newfound energy, "Ooh Amy has a crush! What's his name?"
"I have no idea, but I just know that we're going to be together." She exclaimed twirling. Suddenly, Amy squealed, grabbing my hand, "Oh my god! Chloe! That's him over there with the blue shirt." The new student glanced over with the loud squeak, "He's looking. He's looking at me! Chloe." I glanced up to see where she was pointing, and saw a pair of familiar blue eyes stare back at me. He had a puzzled and slightly amused look on his face. Why did he look so familiar? I swear I'd never met him before. I glanced down at Amy, who was still loudly freaking out. I put my finger up to my lips to try to get her to be a little more discrete, but to no avail. We had been spotted, and now he was walking over.