Lessons in Love by Clarissa Carlyle Read Free Book Online Page B

excelled at math, working on problems set way above her current grade. Her teachers encouraged her, prompting her to try calculus and algebra when other students were still struggling to grasp much simpler aspects of study. Alex loved it; she loved learning new, improved ways to work with numbers.
     
    Even now, when life in the trailer got to be too much, she got out her old textbooks and worked through a variety of mathematical problems. It calmed her mind and was the only way, other than loud music, that she could silence the worried voice within her head.
     
    As Alex scanned the test paper in front of her, it pained her to realize that the questions were simpler even than those in the textbook she had been working on at fourteen. She could easily answer them, and in half the allocated time.
     
    The drama of the previous night kept replaying in Alex’s mind. If she listened closely, she could still hear the sirens ringing in her ears as the police arrived at the scene, could still hear the blast of the shotgun that ended her father’s life.
     
    She needed the distraction of math. She began to work on the questions, relishing the familiarity of it. She didn’t notice how Claire glanced across at her, shocked to see her friend working away so feverishly.
     
    When Alex finished, she looked down proudly at the test sheet, assured that she had scored a perfect 100. Then she felt Claire’s eyes on her and remembered where she was and, more importantly, who she was trying to be.
     
    Panicked, Alex went back through her answers and changed most of them so that they were incorrect.
     
    As she did so, she felt a second pair of eyes upon her and glanced up to see Mr. Simmons watching her with a quizzical look on his face. When Alex’s eyes locked with his, he blinked and looked away.
     
    “Time’s up,” he declared just as Alex finished doctoring her test paper.
     
    “Papers to the front,” Mr. Simmons instructed.
     
    She handed the sheet to the guy who sat in front of her and sighed, her heart racing.
     
    “You looked like you were nailing that test,” Claire said as they entered the hallway. There was a hint of suspicion in her voice.
     
    “No, I was just writing anything,” Alex bluffed. “I just wanted to look like I was working; don’t want Mr. Simmons giving me another detention.”
     
    “Really? I wish he’d give me a detention,” Claire enthused. “I’d love to be alone in a room with him.”
     
    “You’ve got a dirty mind,” Alex teased.
     
    “A dirty mind is a healthy mind.” Claire smiled and the girls walked down the corridor, arm in arm, to their next class.
     
    ****
     
    Mark Simmons had a free period that day, so he used the time to grade the papers of the test he’d had his seniors turn in earlier that morning.
     
    Grading papers was easily his least favorite aspect of teaching. He found it to be repetitive. Usually an entire class would be at a similar point in terms of a grade curve. As the new guy among the faculty at Woodsdale High, he’d been assigned one of the lower set senior mathematics classes. He predicted them all to be operating at a C grade average, possibly lower, and as he worked his way through the pile of test papers, he seemed to be correct.
     
    That was until he came upon a paper that stopped him in his tracks. He was shocked to see that the calculations for each problem had been done correctly; however, in the end, each problem had the right answer, but it had been rubbed out and replaced with an answer that was either a few too high or too low.
     
    Mark looked through the calculations, bemused why a student would be so competent, display such an affinity for algebra, and then change their answers at the end to make them wrong. The owner of the paper appeared to be deliberately failing. Mark checked the name at the top of the paper. It had been written in neat, cursive handwriting, a pleasant change from the usual scrawl his students used, their