When was the last time you (or a character) got lost?

I'm so lost I don't even know where to begin to get unlost. Is that a thing? Unlost?

The equation in front of me looks like hieroglyphics from another era. How can I put a number into this and make it come out the other end looking like it belongs?

I close my eyes. Maybe if I clear my head for a few minutes it will help.

Setting down my pencil, I run my hands along the desktop. The wooden surface has dents, probably from other frustrated students getting stuck on the same equation. The edges are smooth, rounded in a half moon shape. The metal legs are cool to the touch, but warm under my hands quickly. I bring my hands back to my lap.

The smell of paper and old books relaxes me. Thanks to my limited budget, my Chemistry book must be 10 years old. But the smell of the worn pages bring back memories of relaxing at home with a good fiction novel to ease my mind.

The gum in my mouth has about lost it's taste. I wonder if I have another piece in my backpack. Oh well, doesn't matter now. If I look for it, the teacher will get suspicious of me cheating and instead of hoping to get a passing grade, I will surely fail. I chew slowly, trying to make the flavor last.

Pencils scratch papers around the room. One taps in front of me, no doubt by the smart boy who is waiting for everyone else to finish so he can get on with his life. I wonder how that would be. To never be challenged by school. I'd guess, boring. The tapping increases, pulling me from my thoughts.

I open my eyes and study the equation again. I know I copied it correctly. I have been studying for this test for weeks. Sacrificing time with friends and family felt like such a big deal at the time, but now it feels worthless since I can't seem to come up with the correct sum.

There, an error. I'd added an extra division that didn't belong.

I rework the numbers, the sum coming out looking much more appropriate for the question. Yes, this must be it.

I sigh of relief.

"Okay class. Time is up. Please pass you tests to the end of the row and I will collect them. Results will be posted by the end of the day." My teacher begins to walk up the row, collecting the tests.

I stare at the rest of the students. Most look dejected, like someone just robbed them. But some look confident. I don't know how to feel, but I hope I look confident. The genius in front of me has his shoulders thrown back and a cocky smile on his lips as he scans the answers of someone else's test from down the row. I wonder if that's permissible.

The overall somber mood is capped like a soda bottle, waiting to be opened. The only sounds are the shuffle of papers and the scuffing of our teacher's shoes on the worn carpet. I wonder how old it is as she walks back to the front of the classroom.

"Class is dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day."

And just like that, the balloon is popped and everyone rushes out of the classroom, ready to be free.

"Thank you, Mrs. Stephens." I wave goodbye as I leave.

She gives me her best smile, which makes her look just like Nicole Kidman, but with curly hair. I'm curious how many of the boys in my class signed up just to admire her. Bet they didn't anticipate the class being such a challenge.

Outside, my friend Teresa is waiting for me. We give each other a tentative smile. I think she's thinking the same thing as me, did we do the right thing in signing up for such a hard class?