The Class Clown

08 - Inequality Theorem

"Welcome back, bitch!" A tall lean girl with long hair held in a high ponytail smashes into Pearl in a violent embrace.

Pearl laughs, grateful for the literal warm greeting. She peels of the girl's arms off her, saying, "Geez, Loida, you're still as deadly as I remember."

Stacy steps out from behind Loida and gives Pearl a gentle hug and peck on both cheeks. Before she can say anything, random arms grab Pearl from all directions.

"Hey, Einstein! What's it like to be in the Star Section?"

"Pearl, I never really believed you did it!"

"Einstein! Is it true? You and Gerome were a thing?"

Pearl freezes. She realizes Loida and Stacy have melted into the gathering crowd. Jasmine, a tiny girl with big frizzy hair, is blocking most of Pearl's visual fields.

The bell rings, scattering the students from the front door. Pearl reclaims her old seat among the tall girls in the back.

The first four periods pass by easily. Too easy now, Pearl thinks. Coming from the Star Section, she can't help but notice how her lessons now are delivered with as much information but as little activity as possible. The manner has been easy to the ear, light to the heart, but inadequate in the face of their tests. With passive learning, the students retain about a tenth of the lecture.

On the other hand, lectures in Section A withhold as much information as possible to force students to get their hands dirty. And they did. Partnerships have been a vital part of learning and scoring in daily post tests. Come exams, the Star Section are primed to perform.

The idea disturbs Pearl so much that she retreats to the school clinic at lunch.

"Hello, miss, what brings you here today?," the friendly nurse says with a wide rouge smile.

"My head hurts." She rubs her temples.

"When did this start?"

"Third period."

The nurse produces a color cardboard with a movable slider. The cardboard has numbers 0 to 10 with corresponding emojis from happiness to mind-blowing rage. "This is a pain scale," she says, testing the slider. "How bad is your headache now?"

"Seven, six, something like that."

"I got you," the nurse says, smiling. Replacing the scale in the drawer, she pulls out a blank patient's chart and slides it over to Pearl. "Can you just fill the box above for me? And then the date of your last menstrual period here. Yes. And your signature for consent on—" the nurse flips the page, "—this side, right on this box. Would you like some pills, my dear?"

"Not now, but maybe I can pop one in class if it doesn't go away," Pearl says.

"Would you like to rest here instead?"

"Yes, please."

The nurse nods approvingly. Pearl finishes her chart and follows the woman in crisp immaculate uniform to an inner compartment of the clinic. The nurse opens a small cubicle, more like a doctor's clinic, with an examination table—that looks like a bed.

"The recovery rooms are filled with athletes at the moment. This area is fine and quiet," the nurse says. She leaves Pearl, closing the door behind her.

Pearl kicks her shoes off and hops into bed. Peace at last. She pulls out her earphones and plays random binaural beats on her phone. Her muscles begin to relax, her joints ease. Her breathing starts to slow down. She closes her eyes and focuses on the sea. The rate at which the lazy waves roll and kiss the shore commands the tempo of her respiration. Inhale the smell of sand and salt. Exhale the heat in her mind.

Fists gingerly knock on the door.

Her eyelids flutter open.

The knocking continues.

She plucks out an earphone and confirms the knocking is real.

"Pearl, are you awake? Can I come in?" Dylan, the boy who put a restraining order against her, is asking to come in.

She replaces the earbud and returns to her vacation.

♠ | ♥

"Once upon a time, I fell in love with shapes. Not just with any shape. But triangles. They appeal to me in their completeness and integrity. They are as perfect as circles, but edgier and happier with more variety, more character.

"I fell in love with triangles because they helped me understand that there are certain laws that cannot be changed. A triangle may alter its orientation, size or shape, but it retains its nature: the sum of all its interior angles is a constant property.

"Triangles taught me that I do not need to be congruent with the idea of a perfect triangle. I am allowed to exist as a triangle of my own."

—Jorgelina's Diary in Divergence.org

♠ | ♥

"This feels so surreal," Jasmine says. Her wide eyes behind those large thick spectacles are glued to her graded worksheet. Eighty-four. "I've never had an 80, not until today."

Pearl plops on the library couch across, her eyes sparkling with pride.

"I still can't believe it," Jasmine says as she consciously directs her breathing.

"So you think you'll come with me now?"

"Where?"

"I've told you I'm applying to Walden."

Jasmine bites her lower lip.  "Walden?"

"You got it."

"I don't think my NAT scores are going to make the cut."

"What's keeping you?"

Jasmine thinks hard. Her cheeks blush deeply. "I don't think I can do it."

Pearl's brow creases with concern. Suddenly, inspiration hit her. "Did you know that eighty-four was all your doing?"

"You were helping me."

Pearl laughs. "I would have if I saw you having a hard time. But you didn't. You just did it."

Jasmine catches the infectious notion of hope and possibility, and stares lovingly at the idea in the palm of her little hands. Can she really make it? The boundary between prospect and vain pretensions blurs at times. Ever so quickly, doubt laces poison through her acumen. "But I'm not like you, Pearl."

"Why do you feel like you need to be like me to succeed?"

Jasmine offers a nervous smile. Her mind has not offered her answers yet. "I don't know. You're built to succeed?"

"Am I? I just got kicked out of the Star Section," Pearl says with amusement. "Nobody likes me there."

"Well, yeah. They would naturally dislike competition."

"Actually they do. They love that stuff, the thrill of being constantly at war with something. But they hate me, because I'm not like them. I stuck out like a sore thumb. And that's an eye sore."

Jasmine shakes her head, smiling sadly.

Pearl continues, "But even as an outlier, I still got to prove I can perform just as well. That means I don't have to be like them to succeed. In the same way, you don't have to be like me to make it to Walden.  We're different triangles, but we're triangles all the same.  We don't have to be the perfect triangle to perform just as well."

Jasmine's eyes widen in awe and fright.  This idea is new, exciting and terrifying altogether.  Can she really make it?

Pearl says firmly, "Say we give this a dry run.  If you hit 8-0 three more times, you're sending the application with me.  Deal?"