Problems Without Solutions

[laZardo†]

((Retcon! This is a prologue to the Lunch Broken topic.))
Math class was not one of the more entertaining subjects of the school day, particularly in a among students such as these. One of these students, sitting somewhere in an unspectacular part of the classroom (neither the über-achiever front nor the punk-ass back where Troy "Mac" had moved nor even the geographical middle) seemed to be perpetually staring at the ceiling as he slumped back in his seat.

At first glance, this student was nothing more than unspectacular. In fact the headphones clipped on his ears gave people the impression that he was trying to be part of so many scenes at once that the colors had blended and mixed into a dull gray. The only thing really remarkable about him was that he was the subject's top student, and that wasn't the only subject he was top at. The reason that he was so constantly bitter was that being so good at those subjects posed more harm to him than reward.

Eduardo Trinidad-Villa was not happy today, then again there had probably been no more than a week or two in the past year total where he could consider himself like that. One of those days was when he received an MP3 player, but that was already part of the past.

"Okay class, I hope you reviewed because this test is a doozy. I expect you to not only give your best but do your best," the teacher explained as he handed the test papers to each student. He smiled as he noticed Eduardo staring straight up at the ceiling almost arrogantly until the paper slipped onto his student's desk, causing Eduardo to crane down and start writing.

Each digit, letter and operational sign quickly yet efficiently crafted, albeit a bit disjointedly aligned. Each sine, cosine and tangent curve flowing gracefully amidst their squares in a grid. Each little symbol connected to form the single solution (or set of solutions) to the problem. It was so easy that the mere act of having the test slipped in front of him almost reflexively caused him to start writing, and he was aware that his "enthusiasm" attracted some attention, though thankfully nowhere near as much unwanted attention from any of the slackers who sat in viewing distance.

Once he had finished putting together the last problem on his sheet, he flicked off his pen like he was signing an important document, got out of his seat and handed it to the teacher, who nodded politely.

As soon as Eduardo was back at his seat, he slumped forward, buried his face in his arms, and fell asleep.

Eduardo regained consciousness and lifted his head as he felt the edge of a paper poke against his arms. The first thing that cleared up was what appeared to be a spot of red. He took the paper to find a large red "100" on it.

"Congratulations, Mr. Villa, another perfect score," the teacher said with a good degree of teacher-to-student reverence in his voice. "A shame that someone who can hit these problems dead on can so easily miss the bell though."
Eduardo replied with a grunt that was clearly supposed to be taken as a "meh." It wasn't the perfect score that mattered compared to the fact that the had announced it in front of a good portion of the class.
"What's wrong, Eduardo? You never seem so enthusiastic about your performance. Is there something bothering you?"
Eduardo sighed as he stared into his teacher's eyes. "No...it's nothing."
"Well, I hope it isn't."
"It's nothing."

I'm nothing. It's not "it's."

With a sigh that was as much frustrated as bored, Eduardo pushed himself back on the seat, which creaked enough to cause him to twitch his eye. As soon as he slung his bag over his shoulder, he made for the classroom exit. The teacher nodded in his direction as he exited, but made no remarks, even after he heard his top pupil's cellphone beep to note that he had a message.

Eduardo sighed again and pulled it out. With a few deft thumbstrokes he was already reading the message from his mother at home, which didn't lift his mood any more than the test's score did.

"thick envelope from berkeley. congrats."

He stopped to lean on a locker and make his reply. He wasn't worried about getting such a basic model stolen than he was about bumping into someone he didn't like.

"Got a 100 on my math test. Again. See you later."

He idly wondered if he was the only person in the school - or at least the only one he knew - that could proficiently work the predictive text input on his phone before moving on. Lunch was already in session and both the "cool" and "nerd" table sections had been filled, leaving him his usual slightly-random spot. At least the food would be in plentiful supply, as long as the surplus wasn't used to give some spontaneous color to his clothing.

Just another day...

((Continued in Lunch Broken))