Calculus

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Author's Note: So I know I am a bit of a liar and told everyone that I have no intentions of writing a third book, but I guess that has changed. I missed these characters and I had a sudden idea for a third book. I hope you all enjoy it!

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 My glasses slid down the bridge of my nose, and I pushed them up higher. I took a quick glance at the clock and saw that the period was almost over, and I still had one more question left. The girl sitting to the left of me had tears rolling down her cheeks as she toughed out the last few questions. Bryce was sitting to the right of me, and he was passed out on his test. I was proud of him for managing to put his name and the date down before completely giving up. Mr. Anderson sat behind his desk with his laptop and his headphones in his ears. He refused to answer any questions during a test, so he uses his time to catch up on Netflix. He loves test day. That's probably why he scheduled it every Friday.

I managed to fill out the last question before the bell rang. Bryce shot up from his seat, and wiped the drool off of his cheek. I gathered up my pencils and dropped the test on Mr. Anderson's test. He barely looked up at us, he was too focused on his screen.

The halls were packed with people pushing past everyone to get out of school as fast as they could. When I got to my locker, Adrian was already there. He was slipping his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Oh, bud," he said. Adrian moved down from Canada a few years ago and called me bud all the time. "You look rough. How bad was this one?"

"I think Anderson has a death wish on all of us." I unlocked my locker. "How is anyone supposed to get into university with classes like that?"

"Well, it's your own fault for taking calculus," he said. "I warned you."

I tossed my textbooks into my bag and threw it over my shoulder before slamming my locker shut. Adrian and I weaved our way through the crowds of people.

"Did you hear that Nicole Pratt is having a party Saturday night?" Adrian asked.

"Yeah," I said. "That's all she was talking about in English."

"So when do you want me to pick you up?"

I laughed and he rolled his eyes at me.

"What?" he asked. "What is so funny?"

"You and I going out to party," I told him. "We're not even social, let alone the party type of people."

"What are you talking about? We went out with Brooke, Rick, and Claire a couple of weeks ago."

"When a bunch of introverts spend an hour together in a coffee shop, I would not call that being social."

"Say what you want, but I think this will be good for us. A college party cannot be the first party we go to. This will be like training wheels. Tell your mom your spending the night at my house."

"Oh yeah, because you know how much she loves that. She'll call me while we're there."

"Then don't pick up your phone," he said. "Text her later and say we were at the theatre."

"Fine, but if I want to leave, we're leaving."

"It's a deal."

Adrian and I split when we got the next street corner. I walked home to see my mom's car parked in the driveway. She must have got sent home early. When I got home, I heard her moving around in the kitchen. I dropped my backpack on the counter and she looked over her shoulder at me. Her hair was tied back, and she had on a colourful scrub top full of flowers and butterflies. Mom wrote a book about her, my father, and uncle, and made a ridiculous amount of money. It was nice to be able to move out of our cramped apartment, but it resurged everyone talking about us. I had always been an outcast in school. It doesn't help when everyone believes your father is a murderer and that your mother has Stockholm Syndrome. After writing the book, she refused to appear on any shows or let anyone create a documentary on us. Our fifteen minutes of fame died down a few years ago. Mom went back to school and became a phlebotomist, and draw blood out of patients at the hospital.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said. "How was your test?"

"Mom, that's not even funny."

She giggled and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you did just fine."

"That's such a mom answer to give."

She reached into the oven and pulled out a lasagna and set it down on the counter. I looked at the clock to see that it was 3:30 in the afternoon.

"It's a little early for dinner, don't you think?" I asked.

"I have to go to the prison tonight," she said. "You should come."

"I'm going to pass."

"Hunter, you haven't been in nearly four years." She sliced through the lasagna and slid a piece onto a plate. "I can't force you to go, but I think that it will be good for you to see your Dad."

"I have a lot of homework to do," I told her. It wasn't a lie, but I knew that I wasn't going to be doing any.

"Hunter, your Dad will be getting out soon," she said before shoving a piece of lasagna in her mouth.

"You've been saying that for years."

"I'm serious, Hunter."

I looked up from my food to see her staring at me. I could feel my chest tighten, and I knew she was being serious.

"I'm not sure when yet, but it will be next week," she told me. "That's why I think you should come."

"Is he going to be living here?"

"Of course he is," she said. "We're a family. He really wants to see you, Hunter. He misses you like crazy."

"Well then," I said taking my bag off of the counter and slinging it over my shoulder. "He can say hi when he sees me next week."

I went up the stairs, and I ignored her call out my name. I flopped down on my bed and pulled out my phone. Adrian had already been texting me about Saturday night. I listened to Mom move around the house as she got ready, and waited for the front door to slam shut.   

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