"Tim Jenkins," Ms. Honey called. A boy sitting in the back stood at the sound of his name. "Please do number twelve. You did do your homework, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Wonderful, wonderful," she muttered before checking off something on her clipboard. "Turn it in after you're done."

He nodded while taking a yellow chalk stick from her hand. The board had all of the questions written in separate boxes so that we had room to show our work. Diverse handwriting decorated the wall he was in front of.

The room was buzzing with mutters as students distractedly talked amongst themselves, completely ignoring the boy. At least he did his homework, I thought with a hint of pride.

Tim placed his chalk down after being dismissed by Ms. Honey and walked back to his seat.

"Alright, next is... Jennifer Killing! Number thirteen, please."

A chair to my right scraped against the tile floor. I looked downwards, staring at my completed homework. Despite my understanding of the topic, I could still feel the sweat beads trickling down my neck. My throat tightened with every name that she called up to the board. What if I didn't get the questions right?

Doubt quickly clouded my thoughts, but I pushed it away. If I didn't have confidence in my intelligence, then I wouldn't last in the real world. I didn't feel uneasy when answering the questions on the math homework, so I shouldn't have done too bad.

I was going over the questions in my head when I heard Ms. Honey call my name. Standing up, I strode to the front knowing that the question was exceptionally easy.

I took the chalk piece out of her hand and wrote my answer flawlessly before standing back to let the class see my work. Yet no response was given from neither the teacher nor the students after I finished. My eyes turned to Ms. Honey, wondering if my answer was wrong.

She smiled. "Ziva? Is there something wrong? You haven't written anything yet." What?

I glanced back to the board in confusion, looking straight up at what I had written. Maybe it's just me. I turned back to the board, deciding to write the answer again. I made sure that the chalk pressed against the board hard enough to make a noticeable sound. When I faced my classmates, everyone still had the same confused or impatient expressions.

I stood back, terrified as the chalk dropped to the ground from my hand. For some reason, no one else could see my writing. Even after I had written the equation many times just in case my eyes were playing tricks on me. But no matter how hard I rubbed them, even until I started to see green and purple spots, I was the only one that could see it.

"Are you stuck? Do you want some help?" The kind teacher leaned down to me, allowing her hazel brown bangs to drop in front of her brown eyes.

I shook my head feverishly, still confused. What... what happened? I know that I wrote on the board, yet she was acting like I hadn't written anything yet.

"Ms... Ms. Honey, I wrote the answer down, it's right there!" I said, pointing to the answer that I had clearly written.

She glanced at the board before giving me a puzzled yet sympathetic smile. "What are you talking about? I don't see anything. Maybe you didn't write hard enough?" She inquired, picking up the abandoned chalk stick.

I looked at it with suspicion. There's no way that I wrote too soft. Even if I did, they would still be able to see the little marks of yellow chalk. But she could be right.

I picked it up from her hand, taking deep breaths to calm myself down. Right, it was just a mistake. It wasn't possible for words to disappear unless they were erased, right?

I walked to the board again with a sweaty palm, the equation playing in my head like a broken record. 4x - y = 1. We had to write it in the slope-intercept form, and I did so once more.

I turned back from the board, staring at the teacher, then my peers. Even so, they were still looking at me with expectation. "No one sees this?" I questioned, incredulous. "What's going on?"

Ms. Honey smiled once more, seeming puzzled by my hesitation as I usually always knew the answer. "Maybe someone should come up and help you?"

My eyes widened with embarrassment as laughter and whispers of malice surrounded me. My mouth wouldn't move. I was so confused by the situation that no words would come out. If I couldn't believe what I was seeing so how would she?

Ignoring them, I instead keeping my eyes on the words that I scribbled onto the board. Why can't anyone see this? I knew I wrote it! I'm looking right at it! 4x - y = 1 so y = 4x - 1! Yet somehow, I knew no one believed me. In this situation I would've just been labeled as 'the girl who cried words.'

The stupid kid that messed with me was laughing his face off, earning a scolding from Ms. Honey. I smiled at her kindness before turning my back. "Why doesn't anyone―"

Before I could finish, something behind the teacher caught my eye, interrupting my thoughts. My words were ripping themselves from the board. Am I hallucinating?

I let out a small yelp as I stumbled back in shock. Ms. Honey came straight to my side, asking what was wrong. I couldn't respond because I was too distracted by the words that were floating above me. They then slipped inside of my gaping mouth, halting anything that I could've said.

Instinctively I swallowed, then grimaced as the indescribable flavor invaded my tongue. It wasn't like food; instead, it was an abundant amount of information that invaded my thoughts all too suddenly. Unsure of what just happened, I screamed. Why am I eating numbers?!

Ms. Honey's voice rang in my ears as I let my body drop into her arms. "What's wrong?! Do you need to go to the nurse's office?"

I was too focused on the random bits of information flooding into my mind to respond. Images, sounds, conversations―my senses were flooded with foreign noises that weren't audible to anyone else. Instead, I could only mumble incoherent sentences before I felt someone carry me out the classroom. My muddled hearing picked up a variety of voices calling my name or asking questions, but my voice was gone. I didn't have the strength to answer back.

The person carrying me paced faster until we reached our destination. Everything around me faded away when I felt a bed underneath me. Oh, I must be home, I concluded drearily before letting sleep take me over.

When I woke up, I expected to be underneath my blankets at home but was disappointed to learn that I was in the nurse's office. The covers here felt like cardboard and weren't the slightest bit similar to the ones that were on my comfy bed. The first thing that came into my vision when I sat up was the sight of my mother. Her pearlescent shoulders shook as she watched me, eyes glistening with tears.

"M-Mom?" I questioned in a daze, "What're you doing here?"

She gave me a relieved smile after noticing that I was awake while grabbing my hand. "Oh, Ziv―are you okay? I came right away after the school called. What happened? Was it too hot? Were you dehydrated?"

"No, no. It wasn't like that," I chuckled nonchalantly so as to not worry her. However, my mind was elsewhere. Why couldn't I write on the board? Why didn't anyone see my answer? Why did I eat the equation? The bundle of questions unwrapping in my mind was overwhelming, making my head pound in irritation.

I rested my face in my hands and shut my eyes to block out the blinding light that surrounded me when my mother placed her hand on my back. "Do you need the nurse?" Her cracked voice was laced with worry when she spoke.

I lifted my hand up. "No, it's fine; I just have a headache." This was all too much for my brain to handle. I looked at her, wondering if I should speak of my experience. Maybe it didn't happen; I could've just been tired, right? Yet as I tried to convince myself of that possibility, I could still taste and feel the math equation that I ate whizzing around my blackened vision.

I can't tell her. This can't be real! She'll think I'm crazy. Wait, what if I am?! There's no way any of this is possible! My small hands slid up, tugging at the long white strands of hair that resided on my head. I let out a groan.

"That's it, I'm taking you home. You need rest!" With that, she stood from her chair. She looked at me for a few moments before peeling the blanket from my body. "Just get up nice and slow. We don't want you to get sick."

"Mhm," I muttered, not really focused on the present as much as I was on the past. One question was burning in the back of my mind as I stared at my stomach. Why did I feel full if I didn't eat breakfast?