The Exact Location of Home (24 page)

Okay, it wasn't just math tests. She was also afraid of the goats and thunderstorms and getting in trouble and airplanes and her grandma dying and her parents getting divorced like Sophie's. Also flesh-eating bacteria, ever since she'd seen that one episode of
Boston Med
.

“Let's run,” Sophie said, taking off.

At least math was early in the day so she could get it over with, Ava thought, and she raced down the sidewalk, too.

Breathe in four counts …

Then out four counts …

In … two … three … four …

Out … two … three … four …

Aunt Jayla, who was into yoga and meditation and other things Ava's mom called “hippie hobbies” had told Ava that breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth would help her calm down, but it wasn't working today. All that nose breathing only made Ava notice the smell of sharpened pencils, which was like somebody screaming in her ear YOU HAVE A MATH TEST TODAY! HAHAHA!!

“Is everyone
prepared
for class?” Mr. Farkley looked up and down the rows, eyebrows ready to fly if he spotted some poor pencilless person. “Before we get started, I have forms for our
upcoming field trip. Bring them back signed with your ten dollars by next week.” Mr. Farkley walked up and down the rows of desks, dealing out permission slips. Ava glanced at hers before she slid it into her backpack. “Adirondack Adventure Challenge” was printed at the top, in big dark letters. Below that was a photograph of a girl flying down some zip line thing with her mouth open, like she was screaming.

Ava supposed it was meant to look like fun. It didn't.

She stuffed the paper to the bottom of her backpack, down with the banana slime from when she forgot to take out her snack two weeks ago.

“All right. Desks cleared? Pencils out? Brains sharp?”

Mr. Farkley dropped a test on Ava's desk. She swallowed hard and picked up her pencil.

The first four problems were easy—tests did that to trick you into thinking everything would be okay—but the fifth one made Ava's throat dry and squeezy.

She should have reviewed those formulas on the way to school. What was Sophie's pie supposed to remind her of?

Ava pulled her scratch paper from under the test pages and doodled all the maybes.

Pi = π = 3.14

Pi R squared.

2 pi R squared.

Pi R.

2 pi R.

Pi R Something else …

The clock ticked.

Ava's eyes burned. She blinked a few times, then squeezed them shut. She knew she was going to have to multiply something by something, and she was pretty sure pi was involved.

Ava tried taking a few more four-count breaths.

She drew some pies on her scratch paper for inspiration. Apple … cherry …

They were not inspiring pies. They were lopsided and lumpy and offered no help whatsoever.

Ava doodled in big, bubbly letters.

What is the formula to find the circumference of a circle?

And a voice said, “Two Pi R.”

Ava jerked her head up. The kids around her were hunched over their papers working as if no one had said—or heard—anything. But whoever answered her question hadn't even bothered whispering. It was loud enough that the whole class should have heard.

“Ava?” Mr. Farkley was staring at her, eyebrows raised. “Is there a problem?”

“No. Sorry. I was … thinking.” She looked down at her paper and carefully, slowly, circled the equation 2πr. Whoever answered her question was right; she remembered now. So she did the problem, checked it over, and looked up again.

The voice couldn't have been Sophie's. She was way across the room. Luke Varnway was the only person sitting close to Ava,
but the voice wasn't a boy's. It had sounded more like Ava's mom or Aunt Jayla. How come nobody else heard it?

Ava took a deep breath. Maybe it was like Aunt Jayla told her … if she could just calm herself down, the little voice in her head would give her the answer she'd studied. Maybe, after all the tests she'd bombed, her little voice had finally decided to show up!

It was about time. Ava took another breath and read the next question, about the area of the circle. Was that one pi R? Or pi R squared? Or two pi R squared?

Voice?
Ava thought.
I could use some help here
.

She waited. But the voice in her head was already gone.

Come back!
Ava thought.
Please?
She tried writing down the question, like she had before. Maybe she needed to see it on paper for her voice to kick in.

She wrote:

What is the formula for the area of a circle?

“Pi R squared,” the voice said.

It was back! But it wasn't in Ava's head. It wasn't
her
voice at all. It sounded like it was coming from someone right there in the room. Ava looked around again. How could nobody have heard?

Ava made herself look down before Mr. Farkley saw her eyes wandering. She used the voice's formula to work out two problems.

But the next questions were about triangles, and Ava couldn't remember the triangle stuff.

So she wrote:

How do you figure out the third side of a triangle?

The voice said, “That depends on what kind of triangle it is. You'll need to be more specific.”

Ava's mouth dropped open. She snuck a glance up at Luke, who was chewing his pencil, still working on the circle problems. He certainly wasn't the one talking to her.

Ava looked back at her paper. This triangle had a right angle; she knew that. So she wrote:

A right triangle

Ava waited. The clock ticked one of those big, echoey, you-are-so-running-out-of-test-time ticks.

But the only voice she heard was Mr. Farkley's. “Five minutes until the bell! I'll take papers up here when you're done.”

A bunch of kids got up, walking past Ava's desk to drop off their tests.

Come on
, Ava thought.

She tried again:

What is the formula for figuring out the third side of a right triangle when you know the first two sides?

If that wasn't specific enough, then the voice in her head was a big jerk.

But apparently, her voice liked the new question.

“A squared plus B squared equals C squared,” it said. This time, Ava didn't bother looking up. She wrote down the formula and figured out the problem with a minute to spare, then tucked her
scratch paper in her backpack and added her test to the pile on Mr. Farkley's desk.

“How'd you do?” he asked.

“Fine,” she answered, like she always did. But this time, it was true.

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First published in December 2014
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