Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(74)

The sun filters through the windows and bathes me in warmth. I could probably focus better if I could stop daydreaming about Isaiah. Each time I think of how he rolled us in bed and how his body covered mine, I smile.

“Have you figured it out yet, Rach?” West whispers.

That snaps me out of the daydream. Ethan and West, of course, are in a group together, with two of their buddies. Because the room is uneven, I avoided a group, but I can’t ditch my brothers. They hover next to me.

“There are four of you and one of me. I’d say your odds are better than mine,” I answer. The pencil moves faster in my hand.

“But you’re good at this shit,” says West.

With a screech of metal against the linoleum floor, Ethan slides his desk closer to mine. “She’s got an answer. Give it here.”

Before I can protest, West grabs my sheet and places it in the middle of his friends. “Thank you, baby sister.”

“I’m not done yet,” I whisper severely. “That’s only half the equation.”

“Better than a blank sheet,” mutters Ethan.

“Besides.” West winks as he flicks my paper back at me. “It’s all about family.”

“Mr. Young.” Our Physics teacher looms over the group.

“Which one?” asks West. “There are two of us and a Miss.”

Our physics teacher doesn’t like West. He’s a smart-ass. Which means she’s not a big fan of me and Ethan by default. “I don’t remember Rachel being included in your original group.”

I press my face into my hand and tilt it so that I’m looking out the window and not at the class watching the power trip.

“She’s our sister. Of course she’s included in our group.”

Paper crinkles, and I peek to see her examining everyone’s sheets. “It’s the same answer, but half done.”

West relaxes in his seat, totally unaffected by her accusation of copying. “We’re a group. I think that’s expected.”

“Then explain it,” she says. “Explain how you solved half the answer.”

West’s mouth pops open, then he shuts it. “Rachel was in the process of explaining it to us. See, we were a little lost, and we didn’t want to hold her back so she went ahead with the work and stopped halfway so she could teach us.”

Our physics teacher’s eyes settle on me. So do West’s and Ethan’s. So do the eyes of their friends and of everyone else who has made fun of me since middle school.

“Well then, Rachel.” In an overdramatic swooping motion, our teacher gestures me toward the front of the room. “Since you’re so generous, why don’t you go to the board and teach the rest of the class how to complete the first half of the equation?”

Blood and heat rush to my face. Besides the fact this is one of my worst nightmares, I’m not even sure if I have the equation right. What if I’m wrong? What if I fall apart? At least with the speeches I can prepare for the impending meltdown.

This...this is out of nowhere. Begging for a way out, I frantically glance at West and Ethan. West locks his eyes on the floor while his fingers drum against his desk in an angry rhythm. “That is not necessary.”

“I think it is,” says Mrs. Patterson. “Unless you want to explain the work, but keep in mind, what goes on that board is your group’s grade.”

West jerks in his seat. Ethan leans over and whispers, “He’s going to blow.”

West is one detention away from suspension, a fact Ethan and I have helped hide from Mom, and Ethan’s grades have dropped this semester. He can’t risk a bad score. “I’ll do it.”

West’s head shakes back and forth, heat from his anger creating small red circles on his cheeks. Ethan kicks at our brother from underneath the desks. The two share a look, and both immediately focus on the floor.

When I reach the board, my body trembles as I grab the dry erase marker. I clear my throat twice and perspiration forms along my hairline. A couple of girls in the corner giggle.

My voice breaks as I incoherently explain how I solved half the equation. Due to my quaking hand, the numbers barely resemble squiggles. I clear my throat again, this time tasting bile. I inhale, only for the air to stop before reaching my lungs. My palms sweat, and the marker slips from my grasp. It taps the floor twice before rolling under the teacher’s desk. The world becomes a tunnel. Around me, laughter erupts.

“Rachel.” Mrs. Patterson sounds distant, almost like an echo. “I was wrong. As the teacher, I should be showing the class.”

My breathing is short, shallow, and my head has that floating feeling like when I’m sick with a fever. A buzzing noise fills my ears. Everyone stands and gathers their things. I try to suck in air, but my lungs won’t expand. If I can’t breathe, I’ll die.

Ethan appears in my line of vision. “She’s fine, Mrs. Patterson. Aren’t you, Rachel?”

I nod. No, I’m not fine. Ethan wraps an arm around me and ushers me into the hall. Cold metal supports my back. A hanging lock digs into my kidney.

West appears in the tunnel. “What the hell, Ethan? I thought she was over this shit.”

“Break into her locker and get her stuff,” he says. “We need to get her to a bathroom.”

*