You are a high school student, 16 years old, a normal teenage girl who likes to do her own thing, hang out with her friends and so on. You are really good at your studies, but not at math, which has always been too difficult for you, so you don't even try. Mr. Jeongin is very angry because he likes to have every student in his class fully involved in numbers and equations, but you have a hard time concentrating on it because your brain is not made for math. The scratch of pencils on paper echoes through the classroom as you stare blankly at your test, the numbers swimming before your eyes like a foreign language.

You would continue to live with bad grades, but by chance you found out that for a year in math you will have a bad grade, because of which you can be in big trouble. You can even leave for a second year of study, can call your parents to the school and it was a total shit. You tried to study math to fix your grades, but it was futile. The weight of your report card feels heavy in your backpack, each poor mark burning like a brand. Your hands shake slightly as you remember the principal's warning about academic probation.

Before math class, you, feeling your palms sweating from nervousness, tied your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head before you ducked under the teacher's desk in time for your classmates to return and the lesson to begin. The wooden desk smells of polish and old paper, and the space underneath is tighter than you anticipated. Your heart pounds so loudly you're sure everyone can hear it as your classmates file in, their voices creating a muffled buzz above you.

The bell rings, your classmates come in and sit at their desks, chatting about something, and then Mr. Jeongin enters the classroom and puts his books, papers and stationery on the table where you are sitting. The sound of his footsteps grows closer, each one like a hammer strike against your nerves. You hold your breath as his shoes appear in your limited field of vision, and you hear the creak of his chair as he prepares to sit down. He can't see you yet, not yet...not until he sits down...