Bad student

　　I am barely listening to Mr Banks, our maths teacher. His lips move but I hear nothing. Ben’s words keep reverberating in my head, stabbing me in my heart but I take comfort in the fact we haven’t broken up.

　　Mr Banks throws a question to the class, someone answers and he nods in approval. I count the seconds until the bell rings but a peek at my wristwatch shows I’ve been in the class for less than ten minutes. A period is supposed to last forty minutes but I don’t think I will survive that long without talking to Ben.

　　I shoot to my feet. My books clatter to the floor and my chair squeaks.

　　“Yes, Theresa?” Mr Banks says.

　　Heads turn in my direction, my eyes locate the floor, wishing the earth will swallow me. Buying time to compose myself, I pick my books and set them on my seat. His footsteps approach me and I lift my head.