2018, New Jersey
The morning sun peeked through the window, its rays landing right on Kylo's face. He groaned, slowly opening his eyes, only to find himself lying on the cold wooden floor.
"What the...?" he muttered, lifting his head and realizing it had been resting on his Algebra and Trigonometry books. "Did I really sleep on these all night?"
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His neck ached, and his brain felt like mush. Then he noticed his bed—perfectly clean and untouched.
"I literally slept on math instead of my bed," he sighed, shaking his head with a tired smirk. "Classic Kylo."
He stood up and began cleaning his cluttered desk. Pens were scattered everywhere, books lay open in random positions, and sticky notes were stuck to places he didn't even remember putting them on.
As he began stacking his notebooks, he froze. One of them was wet—soaked in something brown and sticky.
"Ew! What is this... coffee?" He sniffed it. "Oh no... it is coffee... wait—"
His eyes widened.
"OH MAN! THE TEST!"
Panic hit him like a punch in the gut. He sprinted downstairs, grabbing the first sandwich he saw on the counter and stuffing it into his mouth mid-run.
"Auntie! Tell Uncle I—" he tried to speak with a full mouth, "—I'm gone!"
He snatched his glass bottle of milk and dashed out the door, his backpack half-zipped, books nearly falling out.
The streets blurred as he ran. His heart was pounding, not just from the speed, but from the fear. What if I'm too late? What if Mr. Karl doesn't let me in? What if I fail?
Despite giving it everything he had, he reached school just a few minutes too late. As he entered the classroom, trying to catch his breath, every pair of eyes turned toward him.
Mr. Karl narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Kylo. Homework. Now."
Kylo blinked. "I… I don't have it. It got ruined. I left it at home."
The teacher's look turned sharper.
Kylo looked down, embarrassed. That stupid mug of coffee had started a chain reaction of disasters.
And then—crash!
His bottle of milk slipped from his sweaty hand and shattered on the floor, glass and milk spilling everywhere.
The silence in the room was loud. No one said a word. Kylo's face turned red. His throat tightened.
"I… I didn't mean to," he whispered.
Mr. Karl sighed. "Just… leave it. Take your seat. And start the test."
Kylo nodded and quietly walked to his seat. As he looked down at the paper, the questions swam in front of him. The numbers and letters seemed to twirl and jump like dancers at a festival.
Focus, Kylo… come on, focus.
He stared at the first question.
Blank.
He moved to the second.
Still blank.
Bits and pieces of what he'd studied came back to him, but it was like trying to catch smoke. He began writing whatever came to mind, hoping something would make sense.
After what felt like forever, the test ended.
Outside the classroom, Mr. Karl walked up to him.
"Kylo," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, "make sure you show up at the Science Exhibit on Friday. You'll learn something valuable there."
Kylo nodded. "Yes, sir…"
He walked home slowly, his head hanging low. His chest felt heavy—not just because of the test, but everything.
I have no one to talk to. No friends. Just… numbers and formulas.
He thought about his family. His uncle—a proud golf champion—always talking about swings and trophies. His aunt—a serious lawyer—always on calls or typing on her laptop. They cared, but they were busy in their own worlds.
When he got home, he heard the familiar clink of metal.
"Kylo!" his uncle called out cheerfully, polishing his new golf club. "You should've seen my shot yesterday. Twenty yards straight across the green!"
"That's nice, Uncle," Kylo replied softly.
In the kitchen, his aunt was stirring something in a pot. She glanced over her shoulder.
"Back from school already? How was the test?"
Kylo paused. "It was… okay."
She smiled faintly, then returned to cooking. "Dinner will be ready in twenty."
Kylo went to his room in silence. He dropped his bag, opened his math book again, and stared at the page. Every question looked more twisted than the last.
"I hate this," he whispered to himself. "I hate not getting it… I hate doing this alone."
His eyes grew heavy. His mind swirled with formulas, stress, and loneliness. Before he knew it, his head dropped onto the open book.
Sleep took him again.