Skye, Chapter One, Part One

Chapter One
(In Which Skye's Average Day at School Turns Into a Horrific Night at Home)

Skye tapped her pencil against the school desk and looked at the white board. Miss Lette had scribbled several algebra questions there, and they were hard. She growled faintly in frustration. She absolutely hated math. Numbers just weren’t her thing. Her older brother Zen, on the other hand, had whizzed through Algebra II by the time he was a freshman in high school. In fact, Zen had been wonderful at everything except an easy poetry class. It confused him, and he didn’t see the point of talking in riddles. In his mind, if you wanted to say that the day was great, then say it, by gosh, don’t wrap it up in a bunch of metaphors and words.
On the other hand, Skye was a natural at poetry. She couldn’t get it out of her head. When she thought, it was in poetry. Her dreams floated across her mind like a haiku. It made Zen sick.
“Miss Fleming!”
Skye jumped in her seat, embarrassed that Miss Lette had called her name.
“Yes, ma’am?” she replied shakily.
“Let’s play a quick game, you and me.”
Skye groaned inwardly. Everyone knew about Miss Lette’s games. They ended in defeat. Well, she thought, for the student, anyways.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Which would you rather: Tell us the answer to number one, or tell us what exactly you were dreaming about?”
“Um...” Skye mumbled, hating every second she was kept on the spot.
“Chop, chop! Time isn’t going to wait on you!”
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind telling the class–“
“Good! Now, what is the answer?” Miss Lette asked.
“Actually... I was going to tell them what I was thinking about,” Skye said, surprising even herself.
“Oh... well then, go ahead. If you would rather–“
“Yes. I would, ma’am,” Skye said, then looked around the classroom. Most of the kids were drooling on their notebooks or didn’t care what she had been thinking, so it wouldn’t be so bad. “Actually, I was reflecting on the difference between my brother and I.”
Someone snored. Skye coughed and cleared her throat.
“Anyways,” she said, “um... it just occurred to me that he was good at everything except poetry, and I am good at everything but math... That’s, um, all.”
A scattered clapping from the dorks in the back made Skye blush faintly, and she sat on her knees in the desk and worked the rest of the problems.
“That was strange...” Miss Lette said. Then shook her head. “Alright, the answer to number one is...”
RING! The bell rang.