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————( October31st, 1983) ( BEFORE the vanishing of will byers )
──────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────
SHE HUFFS AS SHE eyes her father nervously. Callie could feel sweat start to drip down the back of her neck. When did it get so stuffy in this room? She looks from her father down to the test in front of her. She was so unbelievably fucked.
Math. Why did it have to be math? Why today?
And even worse, it was the breed of math with the letters . . . Those goddamn letters. Why does math have letters? That should be a crime against humanity. Callie did not study, at all. Honestly, she didn't believe in studying. She didn't think it helped with academics, but now she finds herself wishing she did. At the very least, a single once-over at the textbook sprawled on her bedroom floor could've helped.
But, Callie didn't think to do that. So now, here she is at the kitchen table, sweating. Her eyes fixated on the jumble of numbers and letters, and she tried to dig through the crevices of her brain to find something—anything that could help her out here. Her pencil taps against the paper creating a blunt thumping noise that resonates like a hammer against a bell in the silence of this room.
Just, skip this one and move on . . . She thinks maybe the next one would be easier. Callie flips the page and is met with a horrifying sight.
2x + 10y + 8z = 27 14x + 7y – 12z = 18 x – y + z = 32
Z?? What. The. Fuck is Z??
She calmly breathes out and pinches her eyes shut. "Ten minutes left, you better be finishing up." Callie's father, Peter Lin, calls out the time left. This only incites even more panic in Callie; she scrambles to fill out the packet—going back and circling random answers. Once she approached the open-ended question again, Callie tries to solve it. Fuck systems of equations.
"Two Minutes left . . ." Peter mutters in a bored tone. Two minutes? How?! Callie's brain suddenly crumbles together like a paper ball and is currently being tossed around in her skull. Everything Callie thought she knew about math immediately leaves her body. Her heart is hammering in her chest and it feels like the entire world is folding in on itself as the room somehow increases in temperature and Callie is now sweating everywhere. She even started sweating from her eyes.
Wait, you can't sweat from your eyes . . . ?
Oh. She was crying. Tears welled and rolled down her cheeks, plopping onto the paper scribbled with anxious numbers and letters in no particular order. On a good day, Callie would call this organized chaos, but this was not organized in the least. This was a stampede of hysteria that was currently destroying her life. The pencil slips out of her shaking hands. She closes her eyes, puts her hands against her head, biting her lip in frustration.
