It Started With A Wrong Number ✯

16. Broken

e) 6a(3 + 5) - 9 = 4(a - 7) + 10

I groan softly. I really hate math. Too many numbers. Too much thinking. I wanna go to sleep.

Forever.

The only sound is the scratching if pencils on paper, along with the occasional sigh or cough.

I glance up at the clock. Only three minutes have passed since the last time I look at it. Why is time moving so slow? Why can't I have magical powers and speedup time so I can just skip all this painful math and get to art class? Or even just lunch; I'm hungry.

Thankfully, I haven't seen Jaxon yet today. I don't want to think of how much harsher his bullying will be now. I get the feeling that everything his done before will seem like child's play now.

I notice Damon looking at me from across the room where he sits next to Aaron. He then sneakily pulls his phone out, careful to not catch the attention of Miss Luella. He types something, and puts it away and glances at me again, as if waiting.

If he texted me, then there's no way for me to see it. Jaxon broke my phone yesterday. I tried to get it to work, but it's hopeless. The gateway to my escape, my music source, my link to Aaron and Damon, is gone.

And even if I did still have my phone, I never brought it to class.

And in addition to my broken phone, my ribs still sting in pain, especially if I take a deep breath or move in a certain way. I think I might've broken or fractured a few and I'm not sure what to do about it. I can't go to the hospital, they'll see all the other bruises and scars, and I don't have the money either. I don't really have a way of telling Aaron or Damon without risking someone finding out about my relationship with them and I'm too much of a coward to do that.

So I can just deal with the pain.

Looking at Damon, I give my head a slight shake and give a small, hopeless shrug. He pouts before Aaron nudges him, looking confused, pointing to one of the questions in the textbook we're answering questions out of. Rolling his eyes, Damon gives me a small smile before turning to help Aaron.

I look back at the line paper in front of me, my pencil tapping the surface in a soft rhythm as I try to think.

6a(3 + 5) - 9 = 4(a - 7...

Seven is my favorite number. The union of three, light and spiritual awareness, and four, the circle and the four seasons and stuff. At least that's what I remember from English Archetypes. And there's so many sevens in Harry Potter. Seven books, seven Hogwarts floors, seven school years.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is my favorite. The introduction of Sirius Black and the last part in the Shrieking Shack, I loved. And just the fact that Harry—

Wait, how did I get here? What was I thinking of that lead to Potter?

Right. Math. Stupid numbers. Except you seven, you're fine.

The bell rings, startling me a little. Wow, so now time decides to hurry up.

Most of the students are out the door right away, having gathering their things a few minutes beforehand. It's only me and a few others now. Closing my binder and the textbook, and putting my pencil in my pencil case, I gather my things and give Miss Luella a soft smile as I head out into the hall.

As I head to my locker, I notice a small crowd has formed outside the cafeteria, and unfortunately for me, I have to go by the cafeteria, and therefore the crowd, in order to get to the tech hall and my locker.

I keep my head down and walk quickly, hoping to get by without trouble and without being noticed. Like I've said before though, luck is never on my side. A hand catches the back of my shirt, throwing me down. My binder, pencil case and the textbook I plan on taking home to finish the work I didn't get done go sliding across the floor.