2 Julian 0.2

And once again, I was alone in the school corridor. I strolled down the hall to my locker and managed my book for the exam tomorrow. "Literature Exam: 8AM". It was highlighted in yellow on my exam schedule.

My Aunt Bella was my dad's little sister, she had been awfully sick for a while and my parents decided to visit her and care for her baby Labrador as she was bed-ridden. Now I was distracted by the fact that I might have to walk home in the rain.

Don't get me wrong. I loved the rain. I was just not fond of the possibility of soaking my new canvas shoes in the puddle. But I needed to focus on my exam. I opened my physics notebook and a small note flew out on the binder.

The bell had just rung, and bulks of hormone-filled teens rushed into their respective classes and lockers. My stray yellow note lay inches away from filthy shoes as they trampled everything in their path. I couldn't do anything but to wait until the commotion had subsided.

"Ms. Atherton, shouldn't you be preparing for your exam?" Mr. Johnson yelled from the other end of the hall.

"Yes, sir. I'm just packing my notes," I said as I tried to reach for the fallen paper.

"Go on then, no more time to waste. Exam starts in five," he got impatient.

I reluctantly stuffed my bag and notes before closing my locker behind me. I couldn't wait to be out of this school. The teachers were either insufferably entitled or energetic to a fault. Either way, they were all just underpaid middle-aged adults who never mentally left high school.

The thought of me not being able to fully review my notes right before the exam bothered me more than the fact that I just littered the hallway with the ultimate cheat sheet. Any fool brave and fortunate enough to pocket that paper can get a C easily. Maybe I should sell my notes to the juniors.

Another bell rang to signify the start of our exam. The class was silent for the first few minutes as everyone filled in their particulars. Our invigilator of the day was Mrs. Hill. She just got divorced for the second time in seven months.

I wasn't sure if she wore the plum lipstick for mourning of another failed marriage or to attract her next victim. I could've sworn I saw the same color stain on Mr. Monroe's collar. What a feisty cougar. This information was important to determine the success rate of answer distribution for the multiple-choice question section.

As the kids flipped through the paper, you could hear curses under their breath. More kids turned their heads to face each other in confusion. Finally, Rebecca – the class president – raised her hand.

"Yes?" Mrs. Hill took her glasses off.

"We never discussed this topic in class."

"And how is that my problem?" she took a sip of hot coffee from her thermos.

"Can you call Ms. Brown maybe?"

"And ask to give you guys the answer? I don't think so missy. Eyes on your own paper please. No discussions."

More whispers of disagreements clouded the classroom. I read through the paper. It's true, we never discussed the answer to these parts of the book. But it didn't stop me from asking Jake to explain it to me.

That's another perk of having an older sibling, I guess. He was useful after all. Rachel should be able to answer these questions or earn at least half marks if she had been listening to me this morning.

"Quiet!" Mrs. Hill banged her palm on the wooden table.

The class fell silent and some grunts were heard. I heard one of the jocks explaining how screwed he was at the back of the class. Some tapping and body movements have started; this is how our batch communicate with each other for answers.

I kept a tally on the inside of my forearm to keep track of who asked how many times. At the end of exam, people would queue and pay what they owe.

To who? To me obviously. I might not officially be in the nerd group that would quarrel and argue about who got the most correct answers before the actual grading, but I sure was the one making the most money.

$1 for every multiple-choice question and $5 for me to show my essay for one minute. This was also the reason why I sat in the front row of the middle column during every exam.

So far, we had never been caught. Either the teachers were too lazy to do anything about it or they were too absorbed in whatever they decided to spend their three hours on. They would walk around from now and then, but this just gives us more opportunity. I swapped an exam paper with a cheer squad member for $40 that one time. It was a career aptitude test.

'Hey! No sleeping 'til the last one hour!' our teacher smacked the back of Rick's head.

I wouldn't blame the guy; the rain definitely created a soothing atmosphere. One and a half hour in, my handwriting had turned into Chinese calligraphy. Who knew elaborating physics formula could burn this much calories.

Finally, the bell rang and that was the end of the exam. Mrs. Hill didn't even bother to collect the papers one by one. Instead, she told us to pass it to the front as she walked to the window and gaze out. Maybe she was preying for a new husband for the winter holiday.

"Did you get that question everyone was struggling with?" I turned to Rachel.

"I got the first half right. My brain couldn't comprehend the last two parts of the question," she rubbed her temple.

"Since when are you a genius? I thought you said you're only studying from the notes?" Rick interrupted.

"Well, Jade sorta shared her notes with me this morning. She promised anyways!" Rachel defended.

"It's "anyway". There's no such thing as 'anyways'," I corrected.

"Nerds... whatever. I'll just be a lookout," he walked towards the classroom door.

"I don't think he likes me. No matter what I do," I rested my chin on the table.

"Don't let it bother you. He's just jealous," she put a hand on top of my head.

"It's fine. I don't care what he thinks of me. As long as you're happy with him," I swatted her hand off.

Our teacher cleared her throat and walked to her desk to collect the piled exam papers.

"That's all kids! Go home and prepare for your exam on Macbeth tomorrow," she took another sip before packing the papers on her slender arms.

"I thought we were studying Othello?" Rachel exclaimed in confusion.

"Just testing you kids," she sniffed her thermos suspiciously and left the class.