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The paper in front of Rachel felt heavy. She had been staring at it for the past 15 minutes, desperately trying to find a way for the words and numbers to make sense. She gripped the desk below her, attempting to summon even a semblance of coherence in what she was looking at, but the letters and numbers just kept dancing about the page, tangling themselves into deeper strings of complexity until Rachel’s eyes began to turn hot and soft with tears.
She suppressed a gross sob in the back of her throat as she brought her hands to her eyes as if trying to force the tears back to their source. She was desperately trying to put a lid on the kettle, applying pressure until she began to see watercolor silhouettes on her eyelids. A low and raspy creak escaped her as she felt bubbles underneath her skin like warm ocean waves boiling under the midday sun.
Her bottom lip curled inwards as her breaths became more shaky. She began to leak burning tears down her face, as well as balmy saliva down her chin. She desperately sniffled inwardly, trying to put herself back together. She aggressively smashed her palms against her face, smearing the tears and saliva across her rosy fingers.
This was all her fault. She wanted to be good at math, she really did, but it just didn’t click. She was good with visual concepts, but she just couldn't imagine the numbers. They mixed and slurred into each other until all she could see was damp paper and jumbled ink. She had begun to dig her fingers into her scalp and drag her hair until the pain became more distracting than her glaring failure sitting in front of her, until she became increasingly aware of another's presence in the room.
A wave of mortification rolled over her. She did not want to be seen like this, and certainly not looked at with sympathy— let alone pity.
Hesitant steps creaked closer, pausing a little behind her before they continued encroaching. They were considering either ignoring Rachel or giving her false words of encouragement. This whole situation only made her feel worse. She was crying over something so stupid, and now she had to burden someone else with her distress.
“You know,” A small, hesitant voice awkwardly interjected. They coughed.
Rachel didn’t recognize the voice immediately; however, she could tell it was a girl in her grade, not a teacher. Her spine straightened, and despite the desire to curl up under her desk and hide forever, she forced herself to look at the voice.
Jaqueline Merridew.
Rachel felt like she was going to die. She did not know much about Jaqueline except that she was very smart, competitive, and frequently got into trouble for backtalking a teacher. She tried to hide the fact that she had been crying, but the symptoms only worsened as her face turned red in embarrassment.
Rachel didn’t notice, but the floorboards creaked under her as the other girl fixed her posture, “It’s actually really easy.” She said more confidently, avoiding eye contact as her cheeks lay dusted bashfully.
Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh.” She blinked a couple of times, scanning the classroom, which she presumed vacant, to not find another soul. Still ashamed, Rachel began to stare at the blackboard, which read ‘DETENTION’ in aged white chalk.
“I’m, uh.” She glanced back. “I’m truly sorry if I disturbed you.”
Jaqueline's gaze fixed between Rachel’s eyebrows. “It’s fine,” she said dismissively, “I’m bored.” She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Rachel stared back in disbelief. Jaqueline could probably feel Rachel’s questioning gaze as the awkward tension began to settle, so she quickly added, “What’s your name? I’ll help you.” She declared, not giving Rachel a choice.
Rachel looked into her eyes, which displayed no sympathy. “Okay. I’m Rachel.”
“Jaqueline Merridew.” She curtly responded, playing with a stray curl, feigning indifference. “You can just call me Jackie if you want,” she glanced back for reassurance that she was being understood.
“Hm. Okay.”
Jackie knew Rachel had been crying. It was obvious; however, she clearly didn’t seem to display any pity. There were flashes of understanding in her eyes, but she never looked at Rachel like she was an animal squealing for help, begging for mercy.
This was unexpected from Jaqueline Merridew, at least for Rachel. All she had known about her was that she was as well-liked as she was well-disliked, but known nonetheless. She was pretty and the head of the church choir, as well as outspoken and a little arrogant, or as others might describe her, ‘bratty.’
They both stared at each other in shock. There seemed to be a type of mutual understanding between them that neither girl was used to.
“So,” she pronounced, “are you going to keep staring or tell me what the issue is? You’re looking quite disheveled if I say so myself.”
It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t supposed to be funny, but Rachel, too exhausted of all emotions to remember little social mannerisms, burst at the seams into little giggles. She tried to hide her face, hoping Jaqueline wouldn’t slap her for laughing directly to her face after she graciously offered help, but the girl across from her only flushed.
“What— what’s the matter with you?” She asked, accusingly, only causing Rachel to laugh harder, letting out a little snort.
“You, your— Oh my god!” She cried into her hands, “Your accent,” she pointed to Jaqueline's chest.
“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows furrowed downward, as her lip curled in the opposite direction.
“I’m,” Rachel gasped, “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, waving her hands. “It’s just, your accent is so bloody funny.”
Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, Jaqueline got defensive, and the accent only thickened as she got nervous. “Alrite, what’s that ‘sposed to mean?!”
“Are your folks from the West? I mean, I would’ve never guessed—” Rachel continued, mocking the way the ginger pronounced her last name, “Murridew! Hah!”
Jaqueline cleared her throat, adjusting her voice to match her pair’s dialect. “Right, well, just remind me never to offer a pitiful girl help ever again,” she began, shifting her weight onto her other foot, turning her body ever so slightly.
“Wait!” Rachel said desperately, “Wait, I’m truly sorry. I’m not in my right mind. Please forgive me, Jaqueline.” She pleaded in sincerity.
“I thought I said you should just call me Jackie.”
“Oh”
“God, you are a bloody mess.” She sighed, “Just show me what’s giving you trouble.”
Rachel hesitated, shocked by the quick pivot in conversation, still feeling guilty. “Uh, well, I guess the whole thing.” She smiled sheepishly. When she was met with only a raised eyebrow, she quickly added, “I guess we could start at 5. I’m just havin’ trouble remembering how to…” She paused, licking her lips as she thought of the next words.
She glanced over at Jackie, who was hovering above her in deep thought. She answered Rachel’s question for her, “Distributing? Right, well— have you not learned PEMDAS yet?!” She asked in shock, slipping her hand over the back of Rachel’s chair.
Rachel vaguely remembered something like that. “Uh, kinda, I just don’t really understand it.”
One of Jackie’s long red curls brushed Rachel’s shoulder as the girl leaned over the paper, scribbling something vertically on the right-hand side, labeling each step. As Jackie explained, Rachel really tried her best to listen. She felt guilty for laughing right in her face, and figured she owed her at least this much, but she was just too distracted.
As Jackie pointed at the paper, Rachel’s eyes drifted up to her face while she attempted to nod at the right times. This was the closest she’d ever been to Jackie, and she started to take in all her features. She had a long, pointed nose littered by tan freckles, likely a byproduct of the recently finished summer. Her cheeks were rosy, and her brows furrowed in concentration as her light eyes darted around the paper. It was like Rachel could see right through the other girl and know what she was thinking, even if she didn’t understand it.
Suddenly, Jackie paused, a pensive look clouding her features. She bit her lip, “Are you even listening to me?”
She quickly snapped her eyes back to the paper, taking notice of Jackie’s slender, pale fingers and perfect nails, unlike Rachel’s, which had been chewed down to a nub. “Hm? Yeah, of course.”
“What was I just talking about?”
“Um… PEMDAS, distributing… You know, that type of stuff.”
Jackie sighed, rubbing her temple as she pulled out the chair next to Rachel and dragged it until its metallic legs clanked against the other girl’s seat.
Rachel’s brain was kinda foggy. She could feel Jackie’s body heat.
“Let’s just try a problem together,” Jackie suggested in defeat, “Here, look.” She pointed to one Rachel had been stuck on for 10 minutes before deciding to just skip it.
“I’ll give you the steps; you just do the math. How’s that?”
Rachel nodded.
“So first, you multiply 30 x 3,” She said, raising her pitch expectantly as she trailed off.
“30,” Rachel answered. The only times tables Rachel had memorized were 10s and 5s. Lucky her.
“Ok, now subtract 23 from 90…” She said, anticipatingly leaning closer.
Rachel faltered. This was usually the part of math she’d mess up. She felt the hair on her neck rise as Jackie’s breath tickled her shoulder.
“Uhhh…”
Jackie sighed exasperatedly, grabbing Rachel’s hands and spreading her fingers forcibly.
“Just, use your hands to subtract 3 from 10 first—”
“I know how to count with my hands…”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Jackie then pushed 3 fingers down with gentle authority. “Use your counting skills; how much is that?”
“7…?”
“I knew you could do it,” Jackie replied in false praise. Rachel didn’t really notice. “Now, just subtract 20 from 90, then add 7.”
“77!” Rachel excitedly answered, grinning at Jackie, who looked away timidly, letting her hands linger on Rachel’s for a moment longer before snatching them back.
“Yeah, yeah. Great, notice how we multiplied before we subtracted? That’s because of the steps in PEMDAS.”
Rachel nodded, pretending to understand. Jackie noticed.
“You are a terrible liar.” She stated, “Please tell me you’re good at writing, at least.”
“I’ll have you know one of my essays won a competition last year, actually, so….” Rachel bragged, relishing in the pride from completing a math problem on her own (almost.)
“Oh,” Jackie said, a little surprised. In the far corners of her guilty mind, she felt a tinge of jealousy. She remembered that competition. She remembered not doing well despite trying really hard. “Sweet.” She forcibly stated, trying not to let her irritation affect her tone. If it did, Rachel didn’t notice.
Rachel blushed a little at the compliment. “Yeah,” she smiled.
The room fell into silence until the detention monitor’s heels were heard clacking down the corridor. The girl turned towards the door and froze as the woman turned the corner.
Jackie and Rachel quickly shared a look before scrambling to face the woman.
“Girls! You know the rules: No talking in detention.” The woman lectured disapprovingly, mostly looking at Jackie, who had clearly done this before.
Jackie rolled her eyes, “Ah, well, I guess I oughtta go.” Rachel nodded quietly, “Right.”
“See you around.”
Rachel nodded in her direction before turning her attention back to the front of class.
“Rachel Allebach, you may be dismissed. Your mother is here.”
Jackie’s eyes followed Rachel’s figure as she packed up carelessly. Rachel didn’t look back at her as she swept through the doors of the dusty room. Jackie gave her one last look of envy before they would crash.