The class held it's breath as they watched Mrs. Jones reach down to bottom drawer in her desk, second from the right. One could hear a pin drop as she slowly opened the compartment and withdrew it's contents.
Graded math tests.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingernails into her palms. Maybe, she thought, when I open my eyes, I'll be back in my bed, with my computer on my lap, and my earbuds in, and- ooh! A cup of tea on my bedside table, with Kitty curled up at my feet and-
"Toby! Rachel! Nancy! Zach! Come get your tests back!"
Alice's eyes snapped open and her makeshift fantasy disappeared with a poof. She wasn't at home. She was stuck in ninth hour, sitting rigidly in an unspeakably hard chair, waiting for the spawn of Satan (a.k.a., her math teacher,) to hand back a test that was 70% of Amy's grade.
"Micheal! Vince! Delaney! Hannah!"
Okay, Amy thought frantically. There was seventy questions of the test, so as long as I get fifty-five correct, which is fifteen missed, then I'll get a seventy-nine percent on the test, which is a C+. A C+ should only bring my grade down... twelve percent, which is a low B.
"Teddy! Jenna! Chris! Jack!"
Oh crap, crap, crap, crap, craaapp. Mom and Dad said I need at least an A- in math to go on the trip to Europe!
Amy put her head in her hands. If only she had studied an extra hour! She knew that she had gotten the graphing wrong! Why didn't she triple check?!?
"Percy! Harry! Steve! Amy!"
The poor girl stiffened in her chair as she heard her name echo through the room. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she got up and walked shakily to Mrs. Jones' desk. Face pale as moonlight, hands shaking with academic horror, she reached out and grasped the paper from Mrs. Jones' gnarly, wrinkled hand without looking.
The walk back to her desk seemed to last an age. Amy's mind raced, morphing her anxiety into gruesome scenarios. It's fine, it's fine, everything's going to be fine, she reassured herself. It's probably not as bad as you think.
Finally, finally, she reached her seat and collapsed into her chair. Stomach churning, Amy flipped over her paper and read the score at the top of her test. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline, and the terrified breath she'd been holding in whistled past her teeth.
46/70. Forty-six out of seventy. 68%. A D.
My parents are going to murder me.
A broken smile stretched over her lips. Very calmly, and very, very slowly, Amy set her failed test- failed- back down on the desk, back facing up, and pulled a sheet of blank notebook paper from her folder. Fingers gripped tight around her pencil, she scrawled a headline at the top of the page.
The Last Will and Testament of Amy S. Mitchell...
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Short little oneshot written quickly since I haven't updated this in a bit. Hope you enjoyed, have a lovely day, cupcakes!
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Failures
Random~in which i give greek tragedies a run for their money. euripides, i'm coming for your brand.~ a.k.a. i set up a common plot and then ruin the happy ending!!!!
