Maybe If I try harder, thought Kenyon, it’ll join with me. He closed his eyes in concentration, grabbed his open math book by its shell covers in both hands. He imagined, as his older cousin had instructed, the numbers and symbols and formulas flowing from the page, through his fingertips and up into his brain for permanent residence.
Kenyon squeezed his eyes until they hurt and he saw splotches of red. He opened them, blinked, and looked down at his text book. Algebra remained a jumbled mess. Another failed attempt.
Kenyon sighed and thought, I might as well start studying. The process moved slowly, but eventually the mess that was algebra became less tangled.