Soleil Overland
Sunny
♥♥❤♥♥
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Why is math so difficult?The girl pouted at the worksheet spread before her on the smooth surface of her desk, tapping the eraser of her favorite green pencil in a consistent beat against the wood. Without her best friend Pari, more or less the most intelligent person the girl had ever met, sitting beside her, her homework seemed more hopeless than ever. The symbols, the nonsensical combination of numbers and letters, none of it made any sense. Numbers and letters were not supposed to go together, that went against every bit of logic the girl had ever heard, and really, why were exponents necessary when one could just write the number? The girl sighed, dropping her pencil and cramming the homework back in her bag, to be done before class with Pari's help. Math had never been her strong point.
However, never let it be said that Eliza Mabe was dumb.
Put her in an English classroom, and Eliza would flourish. She could pick symbolism out of the most complex of texts, read far above the average level for her grade, and write like someone three times her age, whether it be essays or narratives or poems. If it weren't for the superior feeling of the work out that came after, she would despise the bell that signaled the end of an English class. Because nothing, not even the joy of literature, surpassed her love of running. The feeling of the sturdy earth subtly flexing beneath her her feet, the pounding of her heart in her chest, the feeling of being strong and alive--what could be better than that? Track practices always ended with her muscles sore, but warm and reliable, as they always were. She had always been slender, but she did have muscle, wiry yet firm in her limbs, and she could depend on it, whether it be for track, the almost as beloved ballet, or even just tree climbing.
The girl let out a content breath at the though, glancing at the clock and getting to her feet upon realizing it was time for dinner. She turned towards the door, but paused and took a moment to look around her bedroom, the one she'd had her whole life. Beige walls, glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling, a floral quilt on her bed and a pair of worn out pointe shoes dangling from the edge of the mirror that stood on her vanity, the pale pink of the silk a sharp contrast to the blue cloth that held the medals she'd won in track, hanging from the same corner of the mirror. A small smile formed on her lips as she took it in, before she finally walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her and taking the carpeted stairs two at a time. She glided down the hallway and poked her head into the kitchen, smile widening at the sight of the familiar woman standing in the kitchen.
"What're we having, mum?" she asked as she moved to take a seat at the counter, pausing halfway into climbing into the stool at the expression on her mother's face, smile fading fast, "...Are you okay?" Her mother bore a look that Eliza had never seen on her usually soft features, and it was a little bit scary. What on earth could have upset the woman so deeply?