Is this any good?

Lorena,

I opened my eyes and looked around me. Something was wrong. My head split in pain as the world spun. Each individual rectangle that covered the walls was doubled on top of itself in my blurred vision. Rectangles. I tried to force myself to focus on an individual rectangle, begging the room to stay still. But the room continued to spin, spiraling into unconscious darkness.

鈥?br> Why can I never finish a stupid Sudoku? I mean, it should have been simple enough, the numbers one through nine in every row, column, and box with no repeats. But it wasn鈥檛 simple enough. Nothing ever was in calculus. Especially when you were a junior at sixteen, but that鈥檚 what I got for being 鈥渟mart鈥? But this had nothing to do with calculus, so why was Mrs. Brassington making us do it? Her distaste for me was almost tangible as she looked down for an awkward moment over my shoulder. Then, in sudden realization of an error unapparent to me, her lips curled into a smile.

鈥淵ou have two three鈥檚 in this column.鈥?She coughed, placing a gnarled finger on my paper. Did she ever clip her nails? Her voice was filled with triumph over my failure. Is it legal for a teacher to want you to fail? Ouch. My head was throbbing as I tried to fight my way through the maze of boxes and columns.

Finally, the bell rang and released me from my numbered prison. Whoever thought that first period calculus was an ok thing was defiantly on something. I reached into my bag and grabbed an aspirin. It had become a daily post-calculus ritual. I never did think that they did anything, but it was the only help the doctor offered for my headaches. Actually, that trip to the doctor had been the first responsible thing that my dad had done for me sense my moving in with him three weeks ago.