My stomach dropped to the floor. My ears started to buzz like they always did when I was nervous, and I stared at Mr. Moss. “Wait, what? Are you serious? I’m failing?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry to say that you are.”

I shook my head. “No… That can’t be. I don’t even… How?”

Raising an eyebrow, he leafed through the stack of papers on his desk until he found what he was looking for, then handed it across his desk.

I grabbed it and looked down at it. It was my final—the test we had just taken. The one that I knew was worth seventy percent of my grade.

And I had not done well. There wasn’t yet a grade on the top, but the paper was awash with Mr. Moss’s red Xs, indicating all the answers I’d gotten wrong.

He’d written I don’t know how you got this beside one of my answers. ??? was marked beside another. And that was just the first page. I didn’t have the nerve to turn it over.

I’d been struggling in calculus. I knew that. But I’d studied for this test—really studied—and I’d felt okay about it. I knew I hadn’t aced it, but I’d thought I’d done well enough to at least pull a C on the final. That was why I’d wanted to talk to Mr. Moss, because I thought with some extra credit, I could push my final grade up to a B.

I shook my head as I looked down at the test, remembering all the flash cards I’d made to prepare for it. Taking AP calculus had been a huge mistake. I’d had my doubts when my counselor had suggested it last year, and this was exactly why. I was a writer, not a mathematician. My brain just didn’t work when it came to formulas and equations and ratios and sine and cosine. I had tried, and it just hadn’t been enough.

My throat felt tight, and my face flushed hot. I really didn’t want it to happen—I fought against it, but it was no use. I burst into tears.

I dropped the test onto the desk in front of me and just bawled, watching my tears fall onto the red Xs.

“Come now,” Mr. Moss said, starting to look a little panicked. He clearly hadn’t been expecting this reaction.

“I’m sorry,” I blubbered, fruitlessly wiping tears from my eyes. I was still shaky from the scene on the beach this morning, and now finding out I was failing a class was just too much for me.

“Miss Silva,” he said, his voice slightly more sympathetic. “AP calculus is very challenging. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Students do occasionally fail the class.”

I looked up at him, meeting the watery blue eyes behind his glasses. “Please, Mr. Moss, there must be something I can do. I have to bring my grade up. I have to. I can’t fail this class.”

He looked at me for a long moment. It was almost as if he was having some kind of conflict behind his eyes. Finally, he sighed, as though he’d decided something that annoyed him. He pushed back from his desk and pulled open a drawer. He removed a sheet of paper and—reaching across his desk—slid it over to me.

I looked down and saw that it was a worksheet, with only one question on it.

“What is this?” I asked, looking up at him.

“It’s a problem that juniors in college have trouble solving. If you can solve it, I’ll give you at least a B in the class. If you can show me your work—and if it demonstrates an ability to think critically and apply appropriate calculus techniques, I’ll let you re-sit the final.”

My breath caught. “Really?”

He nodded.

My heart thudded in my chest, and I swallowed, hard. “How long do I have to do it?”

He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I’ll give you an hour.”

“Wait, now?” I asked. I was starting to sweat.

He nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Yes. One hour, starting now. And you can’t leave this room. I have to keep my eye on you so I can be sure you’re not cheating.”

“Oh god,” I muttered.

“Miss Silva?” Mr. Moss asked, looking quizzical. “Is something wrong?”

I looked at him, then down at the paper, then up at the clock. An hour? Starting now?

I didn’t know what to do. This meeting was only supposed to take ten minutes—fifteen at most. I still had to get over to the newspaper room to proof the final edition. It was going to print today. But…

I really needed this grade. Without it, I could kiss my college dreams, everything I’d worked so hard for, goodbye.