𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫, m. tate & i. lahey

𝟎𝟎𝟒. lacrosse tryouts

ANCHOR

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MALIA WALKS THROUGH the doorframe to her math class. When her eyes land on the board, however, she comes to an abrupt halt. The numbers and letters on the board are put together into multiple equations. Malia's brain scrambles at the sight.

She doesn't spare another glance at the board before looking around the classroom to see if anyone is watching her. Then, Malia unsubtly turns around and starts walking down the hall. Until someone grips both of her shoulders and begins to guide her back to class.

The werecoyote furrows her brows and peers over her shoulder to find Isaac behind her. She lets out an annoyed grunt as they reach the doorway. "I hate math— it's pointless!" Malia attempts to dig the heels of her boots against the tiles below them to stop Isaac from pushing her.

"Aw," he feigns sympathy for the girl. "What a shame." Isaac shows Malia to her seat next to Lydia in the second row before sitting behind her, placing his bag on the back of his chair.

Malia twists her body to continue their debate. "It's stupid," she declares, still clutching her books close to her chest.

"Yeah, well, it's essential." He replies, letting out a soft chuckle. Malia narrows her eyes at him, her frown becoming more intense while she glares at the dirty blonde.

"To what?"

Just then, another body plops down into the seat beside Isaac. "Knowing how much to tip at restaurants." Stiles chimes in, giving Isaac a wink. The beta rolls his eyes at him and shakes his head.

Lydia pauses her work and fixes Stiles a look of irritation. She averts her gaze to Malia. "And less important things like medicine, economics, engineering..."

Stiles blows raspberries at her list of examples, dismissing them completely. "Tipping."

The bell rings less than a second later, and everybody piles into their seats and waits for class to begin. Ms. Fleming, their teacher, finishes writing the last math equation and spins to face her students. "All right, volunteers to the board," she glances over each of the teenagers. "Lydia, Diego, Malia."

Malia immediately freezes, her body going rigid at the sound of her name. Anxiety starts to course through her, and Malia is not fond of the feeling. She slowly lifts her head to look at her teacher, the older woman already staring back at her. "Um. I didn't volunteer."

Ms. Fleming is seemingly careless at the teenage girl's anxiety. "You did now," she cocks her head to the side. "To the board."

The werecoyote awkwardly turns to glance at her friends; Lydia has already made her way to the chalkboard to begin her work, while Isaac and Stiles each give Malia a supportive thumbs-up. She does not appreciate them, however, and lets out a low growl of frustration. They both cower at the noise, their grins fading as Malia gets out of her seat.

When Malia reaches the board, she notices that both Lydia and their classmate are almost finished. She grabs a piece of chalk and writes the first part but pauses afterwards.

Malia swallows hard, her grip on the chalk becoming tighter with each second that passes. A drop of sweat threatens to roll down Malia's neck; she doesn't like this. She doesn't like being at the front of the class. She doesn't like volunteering. She doesn't like math.