Chapter 10

                                    

                                          
In registration that afternoon, Dusty sat near the window, letting the afternoon sun warm her skin. She waited for her name, ready to raise her arm at the appropriate moment. 
                          
Miss Steele, their form tutor, was in her late fifties, with white hair and sharp eyes. "Dusty-Rose Black," she called. No matter how many times Dusty had asked for her name to be shortened, Miss Steele always insisted on reading it out in its entirety. Dusty lifted her hand and nodded, but Miss Steele wasn't looking across at her; she was focused on the register she held in her hand. 
                          
"Oh, Miss Black, there's a note that you need to go and see Ms. Quinn after school about your math paper." Dusty's eyes widened in shock. What could be wrong with her paper? 
                          
"Ooh, private time with Ms. Sexy herself ," Cora leaned across and whispered. 
                          
"I'm probably in trouble." Dusty sighed. 
                          
"You better hope so," Cora teased, winking at her friend.  

                          
****  

                          
As the bell screamed to signal the start of the weekend, Dusty was unable to join the jubilant hordes that were fleeing the school grounds, eager to enjoy two days off. Instead, she wandered back to the classroom where Ms. Quinn taught math, unsure what she wanted to see her about.

                          
Maybe she was going to confront her over her outburst about her father. Dusty steeled herself for that possibility, prepared to tell Ms. Quinn to mind her own business and stay out of hers. She had no right to pry into her family situation. She was eighteen now, an adult herself. 
                          
She pushed open the door to the classroom and spotted Ms. Quinn sitting behind her desk, bent over some papers. Dusty cleared her throat, and she looked up at her. "You wanted to see me?" she asked. 
                          
"Yes, I did. Thanks for coming." Ms. Quinn flashed a smile that made Dusty's knees go weak. She steadied herself as she gestured towards the empty desks before her. "Take a seat," she instructed. 
Dusty obliged and settled herself in one of the desks in the front row. "I wanted to talk to you about the test paper you did this morning," Ms. Quinn said, producing the paper in question and handing it to Dusty. 
                          
In the top left-hand corner in neat red pen was the letter C accompanied by a plus symbol. "Isn't a C plus okay?" Dusty asked. 
                          
"C plus is great," Ms. Quinn admitted. "Most students in this class would be thrilled with a C plus." She looked over at Dusty, studying her. 
                          
"I sense a but coming," Dusty admitted. 
                          
"But, you're not most students. You almost got an A." 
                          
"Almost an A?" Dusty echoed. 
                          
"Your work is all accurate. In fact, you even wrote the correct answers to all the problems. Then you crossed them out and changed them a few numbers off." 
                          
"I got the answers wrong, big deal." Dusty tried to feign indifference. She bit her lip and looked out of the window, envious of the students who were heading back to their nice houses and their complete families. 
                          
"The point I'm making is that I think you got the answers wrong deliberately," Ms. Quinn suggested, her tone soft and nonconfrontational.
                          
"So what? You think I'm doing the opposite of cheating? Like failing on purpose?" Dusty said, trying to make the suggestion sound preposterous. "Why would anyone do that?" She said. 
                          
"You tell me," Ms. Quinn asked, still keeping her same, gentle tone. 
                          
"I can't tell you because that's not what's happening. I got my answers wrong; it happens. I'm not that good at math."