Fifty nine

I was late for class again, but this round with a note from the principal himself. I drugged my legs and feet along the hallway corridors, hoping the first lesson would be over soon. If my guess was right, it was math’s class.

Whether I attended the class or not, it didn’t matter. One class wouldn’t change or improve my grade in any way. My ties and relationship with math had been cut off even before I was done. They had literally been cut off when I was still an infant inside the womb. No matter how hard I tried, nothing good ever came out of my math class, exams or exercise book.

I reached the door as usual and it was indeed math. I pulled the door open and all the students seemed to be bored, the mood of the math teacher was also down in the dumps. That was very typical at Maslow High School, no one cared. The students didn’t care, the teacher didn’t care.

The moment Mr. Thomas saw me, his mood lightened up abruptly as he stopped whatever he was doing and arranged the rulers and