Page 17
As an oh-so-friendly reminder, there’s an ice cream cone emoji at the end of her text.
I almost text No! until I remember I dropped my pencil when he sat beside me, so I reply shut up instead.
Nora: Get his number! Maybe you guys can be study buddies! She punctuates this with a trio of winking emojis.
My leer locks onto her message.
Me: I’m blocking you
Once break is over, the session resumes. The math section is led by Mrs. Sanderson, who has a much more calming presence than Mr. Daniels. Her hair hangs past her waist like a shadow-black waterfall. She’s wearing a floral dress with petals outlined in purple. Straps tie around her feet like a double helix, and with every step she takes, her heels clack against the floor. Even her shadow looks friendly as she pulls up the projector.
“Let’s get started with some triangles and angles,” Mrs. Sanderson says.
I feel more relaxed, happy even, listening to her lecture. She has the kind of voice that, as you listen to it, your ears perk up even more than they did before. Still, I keep glancing back at the clock. The only numbers I care about are the ones that set up a camera’s ISO and open up its aperture. I can gain back control, live in my own world and find every detail in the background, instead of taking a class I didn’t sign up for myself.
On the whiteboard, Mrs. Sanderson works out a word problem involving a cylinder, every number and symbol bolded in green.
Jase raises an eyebrow. He leans towards me and whispers, “How exactly did we get the two?”
I’m so surprised by his question I stumble when I reply, “Oh, um, since we’re trying to figure out the diameter, we have to find the radius, then multiply it by two.”
Jase nods slowly, his face crumpling. “So, where did the two come from?”
I think he’s asking because there’s no two in the word problem itself. “The formula for finding the diameter of a cylinder is 2R.” His face still crumples. “Whenever we know the radius, we always multiply it by two.”
His face eases. “Got it, I think. Thanks!”
“No worries.”
The session finally ends. Before we leave, Mrs. Sanderson hands us our homework.
“This is due by the next class meeting!” she says.
I flip through the packet and count five pages. Stress weighs on my brain. There’s more work heaped on my already huge pile. How am I going to take one photograph, let alone five?
As I step out of the building, other people passing by me, I check my Instagram, allthebeautyinsunlight. It’s a private account where I post all of my edited photos. Rows of landscape—parks, gardens, and lakes—line across my page. The only people who follow me are my family, Nora, and everyone from my photography class. I follow all of them and Lalaine Bautista, who has just posted a photo of the Bay of Fires in Australia, which wins a Like from me. On my notifications, I see my Tita Maricel has liked my latest photo of Star Lakes.
Suddenly, an idea flashes into my mind.
I text Nora: Star Lakes tomorrow?
“It’s Emilyn, right?”
My head snaps up. Jase is standing in front of me, hands wrapped around his backpack straps. Our reflections are on the glass doors, the parking lot behind us.
“Yeah,” I confirm shakily. “Jase?”
Please don’t bring up my ice cream.
He nods and hands me my pencil.
“Oh, thank you.”
“No problem.” Jase scratches the back of his head. “Sorry I bothered you with all of my stupid questions.”
“They’re not stupid.” They really weren’t. Math isn’t easy, and they never e-mailed us details about what to bring to class, so it’s hard to know what to expect.
He grins. “How were you able to answer that question with so much ... detail? I can’t even figure out tone or connections.”