James Mandarin

Exams

Exams start today.

I wake up early and place my pencil case and literature notes in my bag, before heading off to the bathroom to get ready for school. It's five thirty in the morning and my mind is reeling at all the information I managed to jam-pack into my brain, over the weekend. As I stand under the cold shower, I muse over The Handmaid's Tale and No Sugar. I think of the conventions of narratives and poetry. I think of William Blake and crinkle my nose. I'll have to write about him in my essay. Compared to Gwen Harwood, he was the better choice.

I take my clean and ironed uniform from the hangers and quickly put them on. Afterwards, I put on my socks and shoes.

It's slowly getting cold, now. Autumn is finally here. The weather is quite unreliable, though. On Saturday, it was twenty-two degrees. Then on Sunday, it was thirty-seven degrees, and I'm not sure what today's temperature will be.

At six-thirty, I find myself downstairs, eating some bland cereal and reading The Chimney Sweep by William Blake once more. I even take a peek at the Literature Bible, before slamming it shut.

Chloe would be so proud of me right now.

By the time it's seven my parents are wide-awake. I sneak back into my room, take my school bag and a twenty-dollar note, and leave the house undetected. I head towards the playground and sit on the swings, studying essay structures and the character names in No Sugar.

There's a faint thug on my wrists, but I ignore it.

Exams start at nine ten, and at eight twenty, I leave the park.

I don't see Chloe in the hallway and for a moment, I panic. Chloe always arrives early to school, especially during exam time. Scenarios go through my head. What if she was in a car crash? What if she slipped and fell on her way to school, and is currently on the side of the road, with her head split open? I shudder and keep myself calm by re-reading sections of The Handmaid's Tale.

Chloe arrives at eight forty five, red and breathless. "I slept in," she says haggardly, as she quickly dumps her bag in her locker. I nod and give her a small smile. "So," she points to the book in my hand, "how do you feel about this exam? Are you nervous?"

"No," I reply. "Are you?"

Chloe shrugs her shoulders and sighs. "It's hard to say," she pauses. "I'm not sure."

"Fair enough."

She takes her pencil case out of her bag and slams her locker shut. "What are you doing after you finish the Literature exam?"

"I'm thinking of heading off to the park or library to study for my biology exam on Thursday."

Chloe gives me a sheepish grin. "Well I suppose you're not studying for the maths exam then?"

"I've looked through all our notes and I think I'll be fine."

Chloe squeezes my shoulder gently and says, "I know you will."

At eight fifty five, we are ushered into the exam hall. Chloe gives me a small smile and wishes me good luck. I do the same.

We take our seats in a room with grey walls and an old clock on the wall. I place my stationary on the table and eye the printed exam booklets on the right hand side of my desk. A lady with bright, orange hair gives us instructions on how to format our answers on the paper, before giving us permission to start the exam.

The questions are not as bad as I thought they could be. To be honest, they are quite doable. I finish ten minutes before the exam ends, and spend my remaining time reading through my essays. The bell rings some time later, and we are told to stop.

As soon as we are given the order to leave the room, I bolt out of the school. I don't want to hear people talking about how sure they are, that they've failed the exam. I don't need the negativity right now.