The Amulet of Kryshar

Chapter 4

I put my head into my hands and breathed in deeply. I could do this. I opened my eyes and looked at the test paper. I was only on the second page of the test and I was already having difficulty answering the questions. All the formulas I thought I knew swirled together in my head until they became an unrecognisable lump of rules. What was the formula for calculating the volume of a sphere? How did calculating simultaneous equations work again? What was the rule when multiplying variables with each other? Am I supposed to add the number as an exponent or put it in front of the variable. No. No, no, no! Why can't I think? I know that I know these things? Why can't I remember them? What is wrong with me?

I glared at the back of Ms Rose's head as she turned to the white board and erased the numbers that were scribbled on the board from the previous class. It was as if she was afraid that we would copy the numbers onto our test. I was tempted to raise my hand and say: "Ms Rose, we didn't forget how numbers look like. There is no need to remove them." But of course I didn't say that. I was annoyed. Annoyed at Ms Rose for treating me like I was a hazard to everyone in the classroom, annoyed at myself for getting into this situation in the first place and annoyed at Melanie. Boy, was I annoyed at Melanie. What was her problem? Just waltzing up to my table and starting to provoke me like that. I didn't do anything to her and there she was, acting as if I was dirt that was stuck to the soles of her shoes.

A bell rang in the background. It seemed to fill the classroom and everyone's hearts with dread. We couldn't possibly finish this test on time. The last ding, dong faded but it still seemed to be reverberating within my skull. It almost seemed to me as if the pounding in my forehead seemed to throb in time with the vibrations of the bell. It was as if my entire head was shaking. My teeth were clacking together uncontrollably. I sighed shakily. My stupid nerves. I had to get them under control and focus on the test.

I didn't even realize that I was clenching my hand around my pencil, until I had to let go of it and turn to the next page of the test. I held the pencil in a white-knuckled grip, like it was the last thing keeping me grounded to this world. Almost, like my pencil was a sword and I was going to fight a battle. Which wasn't that inaccurate, now that I actually thought about it. The only difference was, that in my imagination, I would have surfaced from the battle; cut, battered and bruised; but still victorious. In the face of this math test though, I felt like I was just fighting for the sake of trying. Of at least scoring some points even though I knew that I would never be able to pass this. I gave the paper before me a long and calculating look. Like my imagination, this was a battle. But this was one I couldn't win. However, I proudly thought, my name wouldn't be Ruby, if I didn't go down fighting. I shook out my hand to give my sore fingers a short reprieve. Time to write like there was no tomorrow. Lena could be motivational if she wanted to be. Even though it seemed like I didn't pay Lena any attention during the bus ride this morning, I still heard, loud and clear, what she said before: "It's still at least worth trying, right?" Yes. Yes, it was. I slowly picked up the pencil again and tried to use the tingling in my palm to fuel my determination to continue the test. The pounding in my head subsided a little. I would try. I had that much pride left. Yes, it's worth trying, Lena. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Even me.

***

Thump. Thump.

My eyes felt bleary. My head was pounding. I was on the second last page of the test, but I couldn't pull myself together anymore. All of the numbers and letters on the page seemed to melt together into one unrecognisable blob. A blur of ink. A stain. It seemed to be yelling at me. Come and meet your DOOM! Give up! Why try? I groaned. I was going insane. Now I was imagining that paper could talk to me! But it really looked like it: The letters seemed to move across the page and form dark, hopeless messages. Great, a test with attitude. More messages swamped across the paper, some of them even overlapped. There were so many...