Chatterbox: Inkwell

x/y/21

x + 2y = 23

(sqrt(36)*y + 2)/x = 68

I can't say any more than that. Can anyone hear me? Time is melting. It's so cold. I'm so cold. It's raining. It keeps repeating. That was the last time I called for help. x/y/21. Please.

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Do not help. 

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Pitter-pattering raindrops are falling from the sky. The world outside her room is dark, gloomy, cold. The blinking lights of the alarm clock read 3:30 A.M. She sighs, the blankets of her bed pooling around her knees. She's tired, but she can't sleep.

Left of her is an empty bottle of melon soda, last night's homework, and the peeled off nametag she's saved from the first day of school.

Empty melon soda. Huh. She gets up, and glances into the box under her desk. There aren't any more.

Actually, she's been meaning to buy some pencils anyways. She can go to the convenience store. Stepping out into the rain, she opens up an umbrella. It's green. As soon as she steps out, something cracks in her umbrella, and it flutters away in the biting wind and rain.

She doesn't have another one. She'll have to run.

It's cold, the rain stinging against her skin as she makes her way to the convenience store. It's so cold.

The convenience store is only two blocks away. It's lit with glowing light, from the 24/7 sign. Time feels like jelly, as she steps into the air-conditioned store, and she's freezing–ice, frostbite, everything cold and frosty. She's so cold.

Elsewhere, a vaguely trending song is playing, but she can't tell which speakers are playing it, or what song it is. The shelves are lined with things you typically find in convenience stores. What else would there be in there? "Hey, uh, can I buy these?" she asks the bored-looking cashier. He has strawberry blonde hair, freckles, and lime green eyes. A friendly smile too, but she's too cold to care right now. 

Eyes that remind her of something, but she can't remember what. "Sure, that'll be eleven dollars and two cents," he says, reaching forward to scan the melon soda and pencils. His accent is faintly British.Looking in her purse, she finds that she has the right amount of change. She takes the melon soda, and leaves.

Pitter-pattering raindrops are still falling, as she makes her way back to the house. She only bought one can of melon soda. That seems to be an oversight on her part, but she hasn't got enough change to go back and buy more. Back at her house, she finished the melon soda in one long draft. It's still raining. She's tired. Tired. Cold. It's so cold. She curls up in bed, her eyes drooping. 

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Fine. If you want to play it like that, so be it. How are you doing, reader?

Here's a better question–what do you think is happening?

No, I can't do that either. Hm. I know you're going to go try and play detective, solve the mystery or whatever, so I'll give you answers. Here's a question for you–what's her name?

You'll have to go back, to find out when her name is. Read closely, and read carefully.

Fine, I'll give you one more hint. They used to make fun of her at school, for being named after trees. And it wasn't just her last name either.

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[Hey, it's the author here. How are you liking this? It's a bit of an ARG, bit of a writing project, all mixed into one. Hope you learned systems of equations!]