The ball exploded off Cassidy's racket like a gunshot.
It slammed into the back fence so hard the chain link rattled.
She grabbed another ball from the basket.
Stupid brain. Stupid numbers. Stupid teacher who'd looked at her with that sympathetic expression that made her want to scream.
It's okay, Cassidy. We can try again next time.
Next time. Like there'd been a first time. Like she hadn't walked into that classroom this morning feeling something she hadn't felt in years.
Confidence.
She'd worked three goddamn hours last night. Twenty practice problems. Seven out of ten correct. She'd memorized the quadratic formula. She'd used the graph paper. She'd done everything Isaiah told her to do.
And then she'd sat down for the test and her mind had just... stopped.
The numbers scrambled themselves. The formula disappeared from her brain like water through her fingers. She'd stared at problem three for ten minutes before realizing she'd written the same wrong equation four times.
