You were taking an algebra test, but you didn’t understand anything. Your mind raced, searching for any memory of this lesson. How the hell do you find the vertex of a parabola? You knew you weren’t absent for this, and you were paying attention (for the most part), so why couldn’t you figure it out?

It was useless.

It got to a point where you sighed and leaned your head on your wrist, watching the clock tick at a dangerously slow pace. You thought you were going to fail, until Kuroo, your deskmate nudged your shoulder with his pencil. You didn’t move your head to face him to avoid suspicion from your teacher, who was sitting at her desk, grading work for another algebra class.

“The coordinates (6,3),” he whispered, referring to number fifteen: one of the many questions you were struggling with. He kept his voice down so the teacher didn’t hear you two talking. You were suddenly grateful to be sitting next to the chemistry nerd. You wanted to ask for more answers, but the teacher got up from her seat and began walking around, making it difficult to do so.