The History test had been a surprisingly easy win. All that forced concentration the night before, while trying to suppress thoughts of green eyes and twisted metal, actually paid off. I aced the section on the Reign of Terror. Turns out, guillotines are less scary than logarithms.
My cheerfulness wasn't forced; it was genuine. It was the simple, satisfying triumph of small victories. The mystery was boxed up in the attic of my mind, labeled "Unstable Ex-Fiancé," and Algebra II was a real, conquerable enemy.
I met up with Chloe and Rishi (who had driven to my school just to wait for me, claiming they needed to see my 'triumphant' face after the History exam).
LUNA: (Swinging my backpack) I crushed it! If Napoleon were alive today, he'd be taking notes. See? Normal life is better. No creepy, perfect guys required. Just a steady focus on 18th-century French politics.
CHLOE: (Handing me a lot of sparkling water) That's my girl! See, She's back to being a functional member of society. You should take notes.
RISHI: (Taking a swig of his own drink) The dark cloud has passed. Though, I still maintain that the "handsome figure" was a signal that you need to start dating. Just saying.
LUNA: (Rolling my eyes) Please. The only thing I'm dating is the make-up exam schedule. Speaking of which...
I broke away from them and marched down the hall toward the math department office. I found Mr. Davies, my math teacher, correcting papers, a mountain of red pens stacked next to him.
"Mr. Davies," I said brightly. "I just wanted to apologize again for missing the Algebra II exam and let you know I'm ready to schedule the makeup. I'm going to give that exam 100 percent."
Mr. Davies, a man who seemed to exist solely on caffeine and differential equations, peered at me over his glasses.
"Good to hear, Luna. You're a sharp student. I'll have the makeup scheduled for next Tuesday. Make sure you don't dream up any more distractions between now and then, alright?"
I laughed, the sound easy and unburdened. "No chance, Mr. Davies. My imagination is officially reserved for my history reports."
As I walked out, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows felt warm and reassuring. The crisis was over. I was on track.
By the end of the day, my focus was entirely on getting home, crushing the remaining quadratic equations, and earning back the A grade I'd nearly lost.