The English Billionaire

Chapter 20

Emma's POV

And with one question two more people were sitting. It was now Brett, a boy with a small lisp and me.

My hands were sweating so much that I had to keep wiping them on my jeans. I was also starting to get very hungry.

The questions had changed from subject to subject, each question getting more complex as we moved forward. The real problem was just keeping focused.

"What states were both Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull born in?" The question was asked to the lisp boy.

He seemed to be having a mental debate. All three of us left standing were tired, hungry and mentally drained. It was a surprise any of us were still able to stand.

"An answer please," the teacher said tilting his head to the right, watching the boy struggle to come up with an answer.

"North Dakota," he decided on.

The teacher began to pull a sympathetic face and the boy shouted, "No! South Dakota!"

"I'm sorry, your first answer was wrong," the teacher said as the kid slumped in to his chair banging on the table.

"Congratulations," the teacher continued to Brett and me. "You are all dismissed to lunch and then the rest of you are dismissed, thank you for competing, there are prizes for those of you not moving on for being a semi finalist."

I could barely believe it. I had made it to the final round.

I had a chance to win!

But Brett's smug look caught my eye. He had a chance to win too.

I followed the line of students out of the classroom to the lunch room. Food would help prepare me for the final test.

I hoped anyway.

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Forest's POV

The final rooms had finished and everyone was now eating lunch. Chris had put an opera song on through the speakers in the room we were in and had shielded the controls for the music with his body to keep me from being able to change the music.

I was currently sitting on the couch trying to ignore the music and focus on what I would ask the students and how I would decide who would win.

Since I would only be asking them one question the only way I would be able to judge them would be to watch their mannerisms and listen to their reasoning.

Then again there was no way to prepare to answer the question I would ask and there would not be a real way to judge their answer.

Chris began singing loudly and I sighed, falling over onto my side on the couch, grabbing a pillow and squishing it on the ear facing up to his horrible singing trying to block him out even though I knew he was doing it to try and give the room a more happy and upbeat feel.

Then a knock at the door and Chris stopped singing, turning off the music and glancing at me.

It was time.