I'm trying to focus on what the math teacher is saying, but it's impossible. My aids are fine and fully functioning, but I can't get those morbid images of yesterday out of my mind. Just thinking about it makes me want to barf. I look down to my hand, which won't stop shaking. I hold it down with my other and take a few deep breaths. My leg starts bouncing violently beyond my control. I can feel my forehead lining with sweat.

"Rebecca," calls Mr. Smith.

"Yes?"

"Do you have the answer to number three? What method would you use to solve this problem?"

I look at the equation briefly. "The quadratic formula."

"Correct, so we plug in the values -"

"Three."

"I'm sorry, Rebecca?"

"The answer's 3."

Mr. Smith seems surprised that I solved such an equation mentally in minimal time. "Um, how do you know?"

"It's not hard. As long as you can square and radical perfect and imperfect squares, you just double whatever the denominator is."

Murmurs fill the class.

"Okay, what if we don't have a 'b' value?" Mr. Smith says, clearly wanting to call me out.

"Just replace it with zero."

More murmurs.

"Rebecca, what would the answer be if we didn't have a 'b' value?"

"Well, in that case, there would be two solutions. If you were to plug them back into the original equation, both would work."

"What would the answers be, then?"

"-1 and 3." Now, the whisperings have evolved into grand conversations. "Can I use the bathroom?"

He nods.

I get up from my seat and move swiftly into the hall. My fingers shake uncontrollably as flashbacks flood my mind. I put my hands over my ears, like that'll do anything. Eventually, I make it to the bathroom, go in a stall and lock it. I sit on the toilet with my feet propped up on the seat. Pulling out my phone, I open my music app and put on You'll Be Fine by Palaye Royale. I shut my eyes and bury my face in my knees.

As soon as the song ends, I hear a familiar voice calling my name.

"Ruby?" It's Amber.

I exit the stall.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing, I'm alright."

"You don't seem alright. Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing."

"Ruby, tell me."

What do I say? Yesterday, I helped my neighbor murder someone, and I found out he's a serial killer? Fuck, I hate lying. "I'm just under a lot of stress, that's all."

"You need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself. You scored the highest on your midterms than anyone else. Just take a load off."

"Yeah, you're right. I think I overwork myself sometimes."

"With your IQ, I'd probably just relax all the time."

I let out an airy laugh. "You think it's just natural?"

"I'm not saying you don't study, but you definitely do the least out of all of us."

"Okay, Amber. Wanna listen?" I present my phone.

"Put on Mr. Doctor Man, that's my favorite."

I nod and give her one of my aids. She puts it on and I play the song.