Chapter 8: Mathematics of LifeMature

Narrator: Leslie Defiere 

"Oh babe, you smell damn nice! Is that some new perfume?" Brent asked brightly, lifting his head up from his nuzzling into my neck. I repressed a frustrated sigh - new, yes. New perfume, no. I just thought I'd change the scent of my shampoo from peach and passion fruit to lavender. 

"Yeah, a present," I answered quietly. CJ looked at me as I said it with raised eyebrows and a caustic smile. 

"Has anyone seen Edward?" Juliet's plump body came waddling towards us, a frown creasing her forehead. I shook my head at her, Brent taking no notice at all.

I had expected something between those two although they were not what one would call close; confiding in each other, exchanging gossip heatedly and cheering for one another at a play or sports game. However, they were both curious about the other. That was how Brent and I started really - curiosity. Sadly, for me though, I swam too deep to satisfy my overly-interested mind. It was now, although not impossible, an exhausting, miserable and messy task. One that would leave indelible marks on places and parts that you didn't know you had in the first place. 

The bell rang as the corridor clock above the Office stroke 8. That was the indication for me to bravely grab Brent's sweaty hand, say a temporary goodbye to the others and walk off to the mandatory Math class with the boyfriend. Mr. Scott was often late, and that allowed for us students to take a final check on our mobile phones, squeeze in a text message or two and maybe scribble down the last few answers. 

Brent had occupied the seat behind me, which gave me the clearest sound of his annoying habit to shuffle his feet against the floor when the teacher spoke. His anxiety level so obviously increasing as he did so. It seemed that my fellow classmates had become immune to the cacophonous and extremely irritating sound, as it had been quite a regular background "melody". However, the shuffling was much louder for me - it reinforced Brent's presence. 

I took my seat, opened my homework and acted as though immersed in finishing it off. It was one excuse of many I used to ignore him. Frith arrived shortly after, a remaining seat in the corner of the back row, and one next to Brent. It did not surprise me that he took the second of the two choices, and frankly, was also relieved. Brent would have some possibly male company, and if Frith were a female, that would satisfy Brent equally - perhaps even more so. 

It unsettled me to know what Frith had seen that fourth period sometime ago, when Brent was supposed to be in his English class, and I in Drama. The animal-like sounds of pleasure, the smack of the lips in between each furious kiss, and the uncontrollable giggles as he licked... He heard it, and almost even saw it all. Maybe the building behind the courtyard wasn't the best place for it. 

The heavy footsteps of the teacher became louder and louder, as did the scrambling of the students, wearing the mask of teenage innocence - if such a thing existed. He held the Niagara Falls mug, filled with steaming hot coffee as always and the black binder, his name clearly written on the spine. 

"Right, let's do some geometric sequences shall we?" Mr. Scott always began with 'right'; not good morning, or "hope you all had a good weekend" - "right". Everything in math was right or wrong, and if life could be as simple I would be grateful. 

Some of the students groaned at the thought of numbers, unknown xs and ys. Brent was most definitely amongst them. The figures merely bobbed up and down in his head, floating aimlessly. As were many other things than that. 

"Take one and pass them around. Revision from last week's lesson, yes? Let's get this done in half an hour please," Mr. Scott instructed indifferently. 

I took my sheet of ink-smelling paper, and passed the pile to Brent. Third term: 2, sixth term: 1/4... I had done the exact same question last year; I scoffed silently to myself and Brent tapped my shoulder gently, handing me a torn folded piece of paper. 

Ch rms. 4th p. 

I turned around, looking at the shameless face of Brent's. His eyes were hopeful and I gave Frith a quick glance, subtly conveying my annoyance at his rather "intelligent" suggestion. I gave no form of confirmation, and looked back at my sheet to proceed to the second question.

r=1/2 and a=8. So simple, so straightforward. Yes, life was quite the opposite of maths. I had not said yes to Brent's request, but neither did I say no. 

The End

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