Summer maths

The sweat was dripping down her back as she sat without moving in her seat. It was over thirty outside. She was sure that they’d said that if it went over thirty they would get sent home. Yet here they were. Maths. Last class of the day, ten minutes before the bell. Her face was red, and she could see the sweat forming on her arms. If it was thirty outside, it had to be at least sixty in here. Well, maybe thirty-five. Still too hot for calculus, not matter what Ms Sexton said. In her stupid shorts. The clock looked like it was going backwards and then melting like some painting someone showed her in a book once. That was how hot she was. She was walking through a desert surrounded by melting clocks. Another drip slid down her back in into her underpants. She was going to explode.


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