Ah, c’mon, get serious.

Who was the teacher kidding with this? Seriously. This was like a bad joke, a really bad and not even a little bit funny joke.

Dick Grayson glanced around the room. Of course. Everyone else had their heads down, eyes on their papers, focusing on the mid-term in front of them. The only sound was of pencils and intense concentration. The calculus midterm. The AP calculus midterm. They were twenty minutes into the two-hour test.

One problem. Two hours.

Two hours to solve one problem containing indecipherable symbols which refused to speak to him, offering not even the slightest hint of solution.

Of course it would have helped if he’d been to class the last three weeks instead of off-planet with the Titans. Getting more than an hour of sleep last night would have been a good idea, too.

Sighing, frustrated, he simply accepted reality. There was no way in hell he was going to pass this thing. None.

Solving this was impossible. ‘Wasn’t happening. This nut wasn’t gonna crack. No way, no how. Hasta la vista, baby.'

Taking his pencil, he wrote his answer in the allotted space.

“God knows.”

 

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