Bad Math

Things often appear aesthetically pleasing or beautiful because they are mathematically/geometrically perfect. The term 'bad maths' refers to something that is not aesthetically pleasing and out of sync with the universe. - Urban Dictionary

Mariah's feet pounded against the asphalt as she rounded the final corner in her neighborhood. Music poured from her earbuds; her breath came out cold in the early morning air; her legs stretched out before her, landing solidly on the ground, and pushed her forward.

Just as the final note on her playlist rang out, she crossed the imaginary finish line of her route. She threw her hands up in triumph, having curated that playlist to be four minutes shorter than her previous one and this was the first time in two weeks that it didn't end before she reached her mark.

She bent over, hands on her knees, as she indulged in the feeling of beating her best time. There was something about reaching a goal that made her feel like she was on top of the world. Taking a deep breath, Mariah flicked her thick ponytail over shoulder and started her jog home.

The wooden steps of her front porch creaked as she bounded up and the screen door slammed shut behind her. She'd worry about the sound but she knew her dad could sleep through anything. In the small galley kitchen, she opened the fridge and took out a water bottle. Guzzling half the contents, she took out her phone, smiling at the messages from her friends. Scrolling through the pictures from the party they went to last night, she could guess they had more fun than they could handle.

Mariah was sorry she missed it.

Her mom rushed in, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. "Good run?"

"Perfect," she said, pocketing her phone. Mariah wrapped her arms around her mom's back and squeezed tight.

"Get off, you stink," she swatted her arms away. "Go get ready, 'Riah. We pay too much for you to go to that school for you to be late,"

Mariah rolled her eyes, being reminded of her own personal day-prison. She looked at her mom, dressed in blue scrubs and running late, as usual; hair that used to be a darker pink but that had lightened over the years, and golden eyes like both of her children. Mariah knew she was content with her life.

But Mariah wanted more.

She leaned forward and kissed her mom's cheek, despite the other's efforts to push her away. "I'm going, I'm going" she sang.

She tore off her tank and leggings as she headed down the stairs to her basement bedroom. It used to be the place she and her brother hung out with friends, but since he moved for college, she begged her parents to let her use it has her bedroom. The benefits were innumerable, but with its own bathroom and private entrance, they worried they'd never see her except for when she emerged for food.

Mariah made her points. Over and over again.

Eventually, they relented. She was nothing, if not persistent.

After her shower, she wrapped her hair in an old tee shirt her brother left, drying off with a towel before clearing off the fogged mirror and then casting the towel away. Music blasted from the floor speakers – another reason for her to have the basement: no more telling her to turn the music down.

Mouthing the words to the song, she focused on her eyeliner, adding delicate black lines with practiced skill until she had her signature cat-eye look. It was the only part of her look that remained the same since she started wearing makeup.

When her music came to a stop, she checked her phone, letting out a humorless chuckle at seeing her brother's picture ID.

"I'm busy,"

"You're always busy,"

His voice, while familiar and comforting, sounded low and gruff. If she had to guess, it would be easy to say that he hadn't gotten much sleep. "Pouring over your books, or pouring something else, huh, Lee?"

"Mind your own business."

"I was," she laughed, shaking her hair out of the tee-shirt and leaving the bathroom. She walked over to the clothing rack that made up for the lack of a closet, "you called me."

"Whatever,"

There was a silence as Mariah pulled on her underwear. "So, why did you call? I'm getting ready,"

He cursed lowly. "How many times have I told you not to answer when you're naked. Mariah, that's weird,"

"Then stop calling in the morning," Mariah looked around the various piles of clothes, looking for any sign of her missing brown loafer. "Besides, I'm not naked," anymore, she added to herself.

"Fine, just tell me if Mom and Dad are in a good mood,"

"Sure, as good a mood as usual," she smiled when she found the shoe under her bed. She was about to end the call when she heard a light moan come in loudly over the speakers. She couldn't help the glee from leaking into her voice. "Lee? Who was that?"

"Nobody," he said, immediately after shushing his companion.

"That's rude,"

"Mind your own business,"

"Again, you called me,"

The phone disconnected in reply and Mariah rolled her eyes. Her brother could be so sensitive.

Mariah stopped to do a final check in the mirror. The white polo and plain tan khakis were not her ideal choice, lacking all individuality, but she especially hated the loafers. They were absolutely no good for running.

Tying her thick, pink hair up, pinching the ends of the ribbon so that they pointed out she settled for what she got. Grabbing her phone, she blanched. The bus arrived at 6:45 and she only had seven minutes to get there.

She stuffed her phone in her messenger bag before running up the stairs and out the door, cursing her slippery loafers the entire way.

The bus was still at the stopped when she arrived. She smiled as she swiped her card, thanking the driver who winked in return. After three years of taking the same bus every day, she had grown familiar with his face, despite never having a conversation with the man.

She took her seat at the back, watching as the scenery blurred by. Slowly, the dirty streets and graffiti walls changed to bright, tree-lined roads and the bus filled with people riding in for work. Her ride was long and by the time she reached her school, the bus will have almost emptied again.

It gave her time to think. There was a part of her that hated going to the school; true, it was her step up. Lee had settled on a trade school a few towns over. He'd be done in a few years and from then she could see his life perfectly as though it were a storybook in front of her. He'll join the workforce, spend a few years as a bachelor, then find a nice girl to start a family with. He will then retire later in life and then spend is remaining years with that pretty girl, happy and content with his accomplishments.

Mariah envied his ability to not want more, but she also knew she could never settle for such a life.

Thoughts of the life she'd have if she could only be content like Lee circled her mind as Mariah disembarked at the stop near her school. If she'd gone to the school she was zoned for, she'd be with all her friends, have time to actually hang with them, and everything would just be easier.

The school building loomed in front of her as she merged with the other students, all dressed similarly to her. The main building was several stories high and all sharp angles of modern architecture, it stood out against the green trees that surrounded it. Behind it were other buildings – the science hall, the gym facilities, the building for the arts; it wasn't a private school, but it was as close as it could get without the overpriced tuition.

She got in based on her grades and a persuasive essay detailing her goals in life. It only took three months for the parents of her new classmates to start asking for her dismissal. She was a bad influence; she'd stand out and be a distraction; her scores couldn't possibly be that good.

What they really meant was she was from the wrong side of town.

She determined to prove them wrong and had since had either been first or second in her year. The only one who had the skill to knock her out of first was Emily Watson. They had developed sort of a healthy competition and if Mariah didn't know any better, she'd think the girl was going to miss her when they graduated, despite the snippy quips Emily often sent her way when grades were posted and she came out on top.

Sad thing was, Emily was one of the closest people she had on this side of the line. Queen joked with her occasionally, but only because her parents expressly forbid her from it, which was a motivation Mariah could get behind. She suspected Mathilda talked with her because she was too nice not too. The other students either ignored her existence entirely or followed their parent's example and tried to run her out. Fortunately, she wasn't as easily persuaded as the people who let her in to begin with, and once she was in, she sank her claws so deep they'd have to rip them off to get her out.

The halls of the school were polished and shiny, and the sound of low murmuring and thumping loafers was the soundtrack of her days. It became a familiar white noise as Mariah traded out her books at her locker, leaving a kiss for the musician posted in her locker- she'd need the support – before grabbing her stuff and heading to the first class.

She should be clear – Mariah was not naturally intelligent; she worked hard. Books bored her, writing reports on them nearly put her in the grave every time. History was interesting, but the overall concepts were lost on her. Science was fun, but only when the math came in.

Math. That was where she excelled. She could sit at her desk with a textbook and a whiteboard for hours before she realized she was stiff and there was a kink in her neck. She understood everything else, but math she loved.

The perfect balance, the consistency, the chance for things to work out perfectly. It was a beautiful art. And she was a gifted student.

The joke of life was that her favorite subject was at the end of the day.

Mariah suffered through the other subjects, waiting until she could enter the classroom that made everything better. Mrs. Kincaid welcomed her warmly. Mariah didn't want to boast, but she was definitely a favorite student.

Sitting front row, Mariah pulled out her pink glittery notebook and opened it to a fresh page. It was her fourth notebook of the year and she was almost finished with this one.

While the other classes dragged, math went by too quickly and when Mrs. Kincaid told them to finish their notes and pack up, Mariah was only beginning to feel energized by it.

When the bell rang, Mrs. Kincaid called Mariah up to the front. She was eager, hoping for an extra assignment. It wasn't unusual for the teacher to give her more work and Mariah was more than happy to have something to challenge her.

"Mariah, I have a favor to ask you,"

"What's up?"

"There's a student in one of my other classes that's struggling quite a bit," the teacher explained, shuffling some papers together. "He's willing to put in the work, but he just needs some help."

Mariah could see where this was going. "Uh, sorry Mrs. Kincaid, but I don't have the time -"

"I thought you wanted to help others?"

"What?"

Mrs. Kincaid held out the papers she'd been shuffling. "It's your report, from when you applied to the school. You stated that you wanted to help others to overcome their challenges and achieve great things."

Mariah hesitated, stumped by the turn of the conversation. "Yes, that's what I said, and it's true. But that doesn't change the fact that my time is already sparse as is. You know I don't live in this neighborhood. And I don't appreciate having my words used against me this way."

Mariah left the classroom, rushing around the corner and to her locker. The heaviness of bitter disappointment flooded her chest. She couldn't say she had great days at school, but it was rare that she felt so defeated.

"Mariah, please wait,"

Mariah slammed the door to her locker shut and grabbed her bag, turning away from the teacher. "I'm going to miss my bus."

Mrs. Kincaid walked with her, struggling to keep up with Mariah's quick pace. "I'm sorry for what I did. You're right, it was dirty of me. This boy works so hard and I know he could be successful if he just has the right help."

"Why don't you help him? You're the teacher,"

"I'm already hosting an after-school study group, which he's been a part of but he hasn't made much progress. I think he needs one-on-one tutoring and you're the best option. It would look great on your college applications and I would be willing to write a letter of recommendation."

Mariah stopped in the front courtyard of the school. She was going to definitely going to miss the bus. "Why not get Emily to do it?"

Mrs. Kincaid sighed, her shoulders slumping. She didn't say anything but the grave expression on her face told her what Mariah needed to know; Emily had already said no.

"He really needs the help, Mariah,"

Mariah sighed. From where she was standing, she could hear the roar of the bus leaving before she saw it pass by the school, taking her time and resolve with it.

"Fine. Have him meet me in the library tomorrow after school."

Mrs. Kincaid smiled, folding her hands over her chest and thanked her with such a sincerity that Mariah wanted to roll her eyes, but held back.

"That recommendation letter better make it look like I shoot fireworks out my butt," she muttered to the teachers retreating back.

She was forty-five minutes late getting home, having gotten such in traffic with the later bus. She was starving and cranky, and the last thing she wanted to do was homework but now that she was a tutor, she'd have to get used to the feeling.

Her father eyed her as he was putting his dishes in the sink. "You're late,"

Mariah moaned back, taking a seat at their small dining room table and letting her head fall.

She could hear her father chuckle before he leaned down and kissed the back of her head. "Dinner's ready. Make sure it's warm for your mom."

"Will do,"

He sat down in the chair next to her as he finished getting ready, his thick-soled boots in front of him. "What held you up?"

Mariah lifted her head to eye her dad, his dark hair graying at the temples. She remembered the days she thought he was the tallest, strongest man in the world, but now that she was older, she appreciated that he was kind. Even now, having already made dinner for her and her mom, who wouldn't be getting off of her twelve-hour shift for another six hours, and needing to get ready for his own overnight shift as a security guard, he was making time to make sure she was okay. It was the sort of self-sacrificing disposition he taught her and Lee as children.

He'd be happy to hear that she'd be giving up her own time and schedule for the sake of someone in need.

"Just talking with Mrs. Kincaid," she said. "You know, I think I'll start studying in the library after school. It might make it easier to get some work done, while everything is quiet."

"Is the basement not working out?"

"No, the basement's fine. It's just sometimes hard to get started with all the distractions here."

He believed her. He always believed her. She was his good kid.

Her father left a few hours later while she consumed her ramen downstairs, notes spread over her desk, and textbooks stacked haphazardly next to the edge. Greedily, she gulped down the remaining broth of her second bowl, spilling a few drops on the fresh ink of her notes.

Mariah's notes were not neat, her scrawl was not beautiful. Picking up the book they were reviewing for Literature, rereading the section that she'd just reviewed, she looked for metaphors or symbolism she might have missed. She stuck the highlighter cap in her mouth as she unlined yet another passage.

Words were not her strong suit. She struggled to find deeper meaning it what others considered art. To her, literature was just words strung together for the purpose of confusing her. It was a wonder she was able to test into the advanced course; a wonder she cursed daily.

A knock broke her focus and she eyed the basement's private entrance, debating whether to open it. House rules were any friends had to enter through the front door but no one else was here, so what did it matter.

"What do you want?" Now that Lee was gone, there were only a few people who'd bother to come over and even fewer who'd know about the basement.

"Just open the door. God, you act like you've got a boy to hide when we both know nobody's looking at you that way,"

Mariah swung the door open. "Really? Cause you just missed your boyfriend by ten minutes."

Mariam laughed, circling around Mariah to flounce on her bed. Mariah closed the door and returned to her desk, picking up the book again, though she knew she wasn't going to get much studying done with her friend around.

"What are you doing here?"

"Joseph is throwing another one of his fits and I just needed to get out of the house,"

"And there was no one else to bother?"

"Oh, bitey tonight. What's got you all twisted?" Mariam was scrolling through her phone, leaning back on Mariah's pillows.

Mariah remembered the days Mariam and Julia would spend the night and they'd lay stuffed her in bed giggling about the boys in their neighborhood before falling asleep. She hadn't had much time to have company since she started attending the school and when they did get the chance to spend the night together, they didn't spend it in her bedroom and they certainly didn't sleep.

"Bad day,"

Mariam put her phone down and looked at Mariah, green eyes staring unwaveringly. "Wanna blow off some steam?"

Mariah looked at the time on her phone on her desk. Her mom would be home in an hour and a half, and she still had a mountain of homework to get through.

Pushing off from her desk chair, Mariah grabbed her red jacket, the one she found at the thrift store that had an embroider lynx clawing through the back. "Let's go,"

Mariam cheered, following Mariah out and up the steps to her small backyard. She locked the gate behind her and slid into the passenger seat of Mariam's beat up, old car. They drove by the convenience store down on the corner, where they picked up drinks and snacks by the bags full, before driving on to the freeway.

Music shook the speakers and spilled out the open windows. The wind blew through their hair, blue and pink whipping out the windows as they weaved in and out of traffic.

The sun was already set and all Mariah could see is the headlights passing on the opposite of the street, and the billboards that advertised things she'd never be interested it. It was during her second year that she realized that there were no billboards in the neighborhoods around her school; nothing to obstruct the view.

"So what happened," Mariam turned the music down slightly to shout over the raging guitars.

Mariah shook her head. It wouldn't even be worth the breath to talk about it – it wouldn't change anything. "My favorite teacher asked me to tutor another student, and when I tried to tell her I can't because I don't have the time, she used the essay I wrote to get into the school against me."

"Unbelievable!"

"And when I told her to ask Emily Watson, she said that she already had and she said no! Emily lives two minutes from the school and she gets picked up every day. And you're telling me she can't spare an hour to help some poor kid with math? Meanwhile, I've got a thirty-minute bus ride to and from school?"

"Please tell me you told her to shove it,"

Mariah didn't answer. She looked out the window, watching the street lights overhead, counting the time between. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3.

"Of course, you didn't,"

"Mariam-"

"You're too kind, Mariah. You let those people take advantage of you. You need to teach them that you have teeth and claws and they should watch how they treat you."

"They already think I have teeth and claws, which is why they already treat me like I have a disease,"

Mariam didn't respond, but she stepped on the gas, speeding the car forward.

1-2, 1-2, 1-2.

Sometime later, Mariam drove off the freeway and meandered back to the curb in front of Mariah's house. Mariah had finished most of her Icee, mindlessly stabbing the straw in and out of the remaining ice.

Her mother's car was already in the driveway and she could see the light from the TV flashing through the blinds in the living room. She'd watch about an hour of whatever was on, and then she'd head up to bed. Mariah still had another three hours' worth of homework to get through.

"I can try to come down and pick you up?"

Mariah smiled, turning to her friend. "Yeah, right,"

Mariam had too many responsibilities to have the time to drive out to the suburbs and then fight traffic coming back. Besides, the gas would be horrendous and Mariah couldn't afford to pay her for it.

"Yeah, right," Mariam gripped the wheel. "I'll call you,"

Mariah opened the door and got out, leaning in through the open window. "I'll see you," she took two fingers and kissed them, reaching out as Mariam did the same. They tapped their fingers together twice before Mariah turned toward her house.

She could hear Mariam drive off as she walked through the front door. Her mom was seated on the small couch, heated bowl in hand. She had changed out of her scrubs but her hair was still frizzy and tangled from her day. Mariah felt bad, remembering her father asking her to have the food warm for her mom when she came in.

Her mom's golden eyes widened with surprise when Mariah walked in. "I thought you were downstairs,"

"Drove around with Mariam," Mariah plopped down next to her, leaning into her mom's shoulder.

"Tough day?"

Mariah grunted.

"Yeah, me too,"

After sitting through a round of commercials, Mariah said goodnight to her mom and headed back down to the basement. Her book and notes were right where she left them, and though it was the last thing Mariah wanted to do, she sat down and picked them up again.

The library was toward the back of the school's expansive campus. It was made glass and metal, with high ceilings to allow the light in. She slipped the school ID through the scanner and walked over to the counter. The dark-haired librarian eyed her over the computer she was typing at.

"I need a study room?"

"Do you have a reservation?"

"No, do I need one for a study room?"

"Usually," the library continued typing. Mariah sighed, looking around at the open tables. She didn't enjoy studying in the open; there were too many distractions.

"Can I make one for tomorrow?"

"Name?"

Mariah gave the librarian her ID. The librarian's violet eyes scanned her name before looking back at her. "You already have a reservation for today and tomorrow,"

"I do?"

"Room five. The other one already has the key and the whiteboard markers,"

"Okay," Mariah said, rolling her eyes. Did the school not pay her enough to serve with a smile?

Walking up to the door for room five, Mariah could already see her 'student' sitting in a plastic chair, arms crossed over the table. He had his notebook and textbook on the table, but they were unopened.

She tried to identify the unsettled feeling that had gripped her. Ray Kon was one of the nicest kids in their school. He'd never said an unkind word to her.

Well, actually he'd never said anything to her. But when he looked at her, it was with kindness.

He was eager to please, happy to serve, basically the perfect student. Except for the fact that he was apparently failing math.

Mariah took a deep breath and knocked on the door, waving at him through the window. Ray smiled brightly and got up to open the door.

"Mariah, right?" He opened the door widely, as if he was inviting her into his home.

"Right,"

"It's nice to finally meet you. Thanks so much for agreeing to help,"

Mariah watched him closely as she took the seat across from him at the round table. There was a whiteboard on the wall and the markers were in the box at the center of the table.

"I didn't really have a choice," Mariah started taking her supplies out. Highlighters, pens, her notebook, and finally the textbook.

"Wow, you're really prepared,"

Mariah looked at him. "Of course I am. Unlike you, my parents can't buy me grades."

Ray's smile slipped the tiniest bit. "I think the fact that I'm here, asking to be tutored, would indicate that my parents aren't buying anything."

"Whatever," Mariah said, flipping open her notebook. "Let's just get started. Where did you leave off with Mrs. Kincaid?"

Thankfully, Ray dropped the topic and showed her the last place that Mrs. Kincaid had reviewed with him. Mariah wanted to groan when she realized he was months behind, and even then, he still didn't understand the material that came before it.

"Why didn't show your work here?" she pointed to an equation that he'd written in his notes.

"Because I already knew the answer for that," Ray answered, his golden eyes glancing between her and the page. "It was on the answer key at the back of the book,"

"Ray, do you understand why you have to show your work on assignments?"

"So that the teacher can see that we're using the formula they're teaching us?"

"No," Mariah sighed. She held up the textbook. "What's being taught here?"

"How to-"

"No. What's being taught is the formula. Not the answers. It's a problem-solving method that will work for a variety of problems. And sometimes a problem will require a variety of methods. It may matter to some teachers that all you get is the answer, but you need to understand why a formula works. Know the rules before you break them."

Ray just stared at her.

"Once you understand a formula and why it works and when to use it, you won't forget it. That's when you'll start to pass math. And not just pass, but it'll be fun too."

"Fun?"

Mariah nodded. "I promise, there will be fun."

"Okay, let's see it."

Mariah went slow in her explanations, making sure Ray understood each step of the problem before moving on to the next. She wanted to say that it was a painfully slow process, but if she were being honest, she was having fun.

Ray was everything the school made him out to be. He was funny and smiled easily, but hard-working and knew when to quiet down and pay attention. She wasn't sure where his trouble with math was coming from, since he was clearly very smart in all other areas.

"I think that's all for today," Mariah said as they reached the end of the chapter. An hour had passed, and while she was happy with the material covered on the first day, she knew that if they continued at the same pace, he'd never get caught up.

Ray started packing his things. "Thanks, Mariah. I know you'd rather be doing something else."

"It's fine,"

"I hope I'm not inconveniencing you too much,"

Mariah hardly ever felt embarrassed about her background. In fact, she was proud. What was handed to them she had to fight for, and she did it better than them. But sitting in front of Ray with his welcoming expression, she taught twice about telling him that she'd usually be just starting her own homework after taking the bus home.

"I guess it's not that bad," she answered instead. Shouldering her bag, she paused. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot,"

"What's your motivation for getting a tutor?"

"To pass?"

"Right, but like, why?"

"Do I need a reason to want to pass?"

Mariah shrugged. "No, I guess not."

He followed her out the door. "You're disappointed,"

"No."

"You are, I can see it."

She left the box of markers at the desk with the librarian. "I just think that motivations are important,"

"And mine isn't important enough?"

"It's fine," Mariah insisted, "I didn't mean anything by it."

"What would be a good motivation? To be the best in the school, like you?"

Mariah stopped. They'd left the library and were now crossing campus to the front of the school. He'd after to diverge eventually to head toward the student parking lot, but they'd gone far enough that it was weird it was still following her.

"My motivation isn't to be the best,"

"It's not? Then why are you?"

"Because if I'm not then your parents will have me sent back to the school I should be going,"

"My parents wouldn't do anything,"

Mariah wanted to laugh. There were so many words fighting to fly from her tongue.

"Look, I want to go to a great school. And I want to do amazing things. I have a better shot at that with a diploma from this school than the one in my neighborhood. But one slip-up, one instance of me not being good enough, and I'll be sent back,"

Ray just stared at her.

"That's why I'm the best. So that no one has anything to complain about," Mariah paused. She didn't owe him an explanation, but something about him pulled the information from her. "What? Say something."

"It must be difficult to live with those expectations all the time,"

Mariah didn't know what it would feel like to have someone from this world acknowledge the pressure she put on herself, but having Ray Kon stand before her and say those things shook her to her core.

"Well, anyway," she pushed on, "I think out next session should be tomorrow. Maybe just two days a week to start."

"Could we do three? I'd really like to catch up,"

Mariah nodded, already turning away. "Three's fine. I'll see you tomorrow,"

Edited 05/28/2020

RayxMar, w/sub-pairings, Americanized AU,

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Thank you for reading