Chapter 196: Algebra Class
Wednesday, January 18th, Morning
The classroom was basic; that's what she could say about it. She was on the second floor over by the field house, and this class was Algebra Two. Her most hated class.
Taking a seat, Sawyer Scott looked across the room. After a quick glance, she put her wounded ankle up on an empty chair. After another scan across the room, she saw Alesha walk in.
"Alesha," Sawyer called. The freshman walked over to where Sawyer was sitting.
"Hi Sawyer, how's your ankle?" Alesha asked, in a subdued voice. Sawyer cocked her head; this wasn't Alesha.
Alesha was wearing black, Sawyer noted, she almost looked frumpy, with a knee-length skirt, and a mock turtleneck. Alesha's black hair worn in a low ponytail, and for a girl who usually wore light makeup, she wore none. One thing that did stand out, Alesha's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying.
"My ankle is, well, healing, I guess," Sawyer said, "I'm sorry about your dad."
Alesha nodded, "Thank you," she said, in the same muffled voice.
"What's wrong?" Alesha asked.
"My mom and sister are arguing, and my brother doesn't want to come home for the funeral," Alesha said.
"I'm sorry; do you want to talk about it?" Sawyer asked.
Alesha nodded and took a seat in an empty chair near Sawyer. "Well, Coy, doesn't like my mom, and well, he rather work out at the team facilities," she said.
"Why did you say, my mom?" Sawyer asked.
"Coy's my half-brother," Alesha said, "Even though I don't usually refer to him as such."
Sawyer nodded, "Okay, I know the feeling, I have a half-sister," she said.
Alesha nodded, "I have one of those as well," she said, "My older sister is also a half-sister."
"Anyway, it sounds like your brother is an ass," Sawyer said.
Alesha nodded, "He can be," she said.
"All men can be," Sawyer said, "What's up between your mom and sister?"
Alesha sighed, "My dad wants his brain donated to the Boston University Brain Bank, to research with it," she said.
Sawyer nodded, "Sounds like an honorable thing," she said.
"Yeah, and my mom wants to do that," Alesha said.
"Okay," Sawyer said, "where's the but?"
"Brenna, my sister, doesn't want to do that," Alesha said.
"Okay," Sawyer said, and shrugged, not knowing how to respond to that.
"Well, there are a bunch of NFL Players coming into town for his funeral, and that chaos, as my mom knows none of them," Alesha said.
"You'll get through it," Sawyer said.
"It gets worse," Alesha said.
"How can it get worse?" Sawyer asked.
"Brenna wants to kick us out of our house," Alesha said.
"That bitch," Sawyer said, trying to keep her voice low.
"I guess, Brenna is the executor of the will, and she wants to get rid of our house," Alesha said.
"How do you know this?" Sawyer asked.
"My mom and Brenna weren't talking," Alesha said.
"What did you do to her?" Sawyer asked.
"I was born," Alesha said.
"Wow! Really?" Sawyer asked.
Alesha nodded, "Brenna holds grudges, and that is pretty much everyone except her mom," she said.
"Sounds like a miserable existence," Sawyer said.
"That sums up Brenna," Alesha said.
"Well, I don't know how I can help," Sawyer said.
"Sawyer," Alesha said, and sighed, "You just listening and not dropping me again, is enough."
"I won't drop you, again," Sawyer said, not wanting to argue with the mourning girl.
"How do you get through this?" Alesha asked.
"Math?" Sawyer asked.
"No," Alesha said, her voice got quieter.
"Then what?" Sawyer asked.
"Loss," Alesha said.
"I wish, I knew," Sawyer said.
"What?" Alesha asked.
"Mourning, I was told, is personal for everyone. No one does it the same way," Sawyer said.
"Who told you that?" Alesha asked.
"My sister Candi," Sawyer said, "She wrote a paper on it."
"On grief?" Alesha asked.
"Well that and the Kubler-Ross model," Sawyer said.
"The what?" Alesha asked.
"The five stages of grief," Sawyer said, "Or I should say that's how she explained it to me when I asked the same question."
"Oh," Alesha said.
"Yeah, I'm not that wise," Sawyer said, "I just want to make good videos."
"I see," Alesha said, "What's your take on grief?"
"My brother's friend told me something once, and I just applied it, and well, it worked for me," Sawyer said.
"What was it? If you don't mind me asking," Alesha said.
"If you're going through hell, keep going," Sawyer said.
"How do you apply that?" Alesha asked.
"I wondered the same thing," Sawyer said.
"So, how did you make sense of it?" Alesha asked.
"Huck, that's who told me that, well, his wife told me this: With the new day comes new strength and new thoughts," Sawyer said.
"That helped?" Alesha asked.
"It put it into perspective for me," Sawyer said, "It put me on the path of setting small goals, like just getting to the next minute, eventually the next hour, and recently the next day."
"Does it work?" Alesha asked.
"For me," Sawyer said.
"How?" Alesha asked.
"Just try to get to the next waypoint. But it's not always the next day. Sometimes you have to just worry about getting to the next minute," Sawyer said.
"Oh," Alesha said.
"Yeah, we should hang out with my group of friends," Sawyer said.
"The Isla of Misfit Toys?" Alesha asked.
"We've been called that, and worse, but we've been through stuff, maybe they can help," Sawyer said.
"I don't know, let me think about it," Alesha said.
"Take your time," Sawyer said.
The teacher came into the classroom. She paused by her desk.
"Ms. Gregg, please take your proper seat," The teacher said.
"Yes, Mrs. Perrett," Alesha said and got up.
"Ms. Scott, I know you're injured, but please take your foot down," Mrs. Perrett said.
Sawyer removed her foot.
"Now open your books," Mrs. Perrett said, and the students opened their textbooks.
