Kimmy’s the only one with her arms crossed, but I stare at her until she resigns herself to a slow clap. It’s so much heavier than usual. The numbers and graph are a fuzzy abstract painting. I don’t let the fear show even as I walk to my own spit roast, even as a dozen hidden phones slip out of schoolgirl skirts to film my triumph or demise. I let my math instinct take over a draw random lines on the board. I refuse to believe it has been designed for human use, but… I just shake my head instead. She’s turning around, and that’s the burst of motivation I need to make of my face a sculpture. Like the moon landing, the class collectively decided that carrying the largest dildo known to man and a ballooning womb full of cum to the front of the class and solving a slope-intercept was the finish line.
