Better Than Words

Testing, 1-2-3

Finals week.

As if Dead Week wasn't enough, this is the time when you most want to throw yourself off of the cliffs that line the ocean, all of which are conveniently less than a mile away from wherever you live. We've all studied our asses off, allowing ourselves minimal breaks because we've been so worried about passing. Harry and Louis have already gone back to London for the rest of their break, so it's been back to the grind before the real shit happens.

And now it's here.

Monday morning we all go to one of the dining halls to get breakfast, and the reality of "college" is startling. Over half of the few students present are in their pajamas, and almost all of them have a laptop, notebook, or flashcards sitting in front of them. Some sit alone, dozing off as they cram last minute, and others slump in their seats as their friends console them.

My stomach sinks as I realize that even though I've been studying, there is almost no way I'm passing these classes. I've had to re-learn all of the material since it's been much too dull to pay attention to during lecture. I've got two projects I didn't do simply from a lack of motivation mixed with a lack of time, plus multiple homework assignments Niall and I have neglected from our music class because we had no idea how to do them. I'm dead meat.

Tuesday afternoon is my first final for my history class. Niall drops me off outside and wishes me good luck. After he pulls out of the parking lot, I run to the bathroom, suddenly unable to breathe. I pace back and forth, fingers hanging onto the roots of my hair, with tears threatening to spill.

I'm not going to pass, I think to myself. I'm not going to pass and I'm going to be kicked out of school and my dad's going to kill me and then he'll hate me and I'm not going to pass, I don't want to go inside, I can't do this.

I hold my breath for a second, trying to regain my composure, and collect myself as I step out of the bathroom. I sit just as the teaching assistants are handing out the test, take a deep breath, and dive in.

I finish in an hour and forty-five minutes, and when I all but run out of the building Niall is waiting for me.

"How'd it go?" he asks, standing up.

"I don't want to talk about it, I'm just glad it's over." I let out a deep breath. It's an odd feeling, being completely done with one class. I just have to repeat this process twice more, and I'm done. The thought unfortunately doesn't reassure me.

"Yes, ma'am," Niall obliges and follows me to the car. We go back to his apartment where we just sleep until my final at 7:30 that evening.

He's got a test at the same time for his history class, so we carpool again. He notices the clouds rolling in and leaves the keys with me in case I finish my test first.

I sit down the same as I did earlier today and mentally go over what I've studied...not that it helps at all. The test packets are handed out and I spend an hour and a half bullshitting "interesting" things about six different prose passages we covered that quarter. When I walk out of the lecture room, it's pouring rain. I run to the car, hoping Niall isn't out yet so I can warm up the car before he gets here.

I don't see him anywhere, so I climb in and out of the wet. I feel bad for soaking his seats, but there's no other option. I blast the heater to defrost the windows and turn on some music. Slowly my body starts to warm up and I stop shivering. I doze off in the cozy warmth of the car seeping through me, but am later startled awake by someone frantically trying to get into the car.

I jump and start to freak out, fumbling to make sure the doors are locked. I reach for my pepper spray when I hear the stranger call me by name.

"Ali, open the door! Oh God, I'm freezing, please open the door!" comes Niall's muffled cry.