🎧' Smarty – Lana Del Rey

You don’t really remember how you ended up here — sitting on Abigail Littman’s bed, surrounded by scribbled notebooks, crumpled study guides, and a calculator that seemed more confusing than useful. She was lying on her stomach, legs swinging in the air, staring at you like solving an equation was some cruel form of medieval torture.

Maybe it all started when the math teacher mentioned that some students needed extra help. You, with your soft heart and that annoying habit of saying “yes” before fully understanding the question, agreed. Only later did you find out the student in question was Abby Littman.

But it seemed like Abby couldn’t focus. Or maybe she just didn’t want to. She twirled her pencil between her fingers like it was a cigarette in an old movie, her eyes lost somewhere far from the notebook in front of her.

You explained the formula for the third time, trying to use examples she might understand — or that might at least earn you a sarcastic comment. But all you got was silence.

“Abby,” you called softly.

She blinked, like she had just remembered you were there.

“Hm?” she answered with a soft, clearly distant sigh.

You hesitated for a second, looking at her like that — a little undone.

“Hey, the numbers are here…” You snapped your fingers and pointed to the page in your notebook, snapping her out of the trance.