Chapter 46: DEAD 1
1:30 PM found me at the school’s third gazebo, sprawled on the bench with a book over my face. It wasn’t the best spot—not too quiet with all the students shuffling by, but better than anywhere else at that moment. My phone which was snug inside the inner pocket of my blazer, had been pinging nonstop, but I’d ignored it.
I sighed, taking the book off my face and sitting up slowly. My legs swung to the side of the bench, my feet brushing the ground. My head tilted back briefly once I was balanced, letting the afternoon sun warm my face before I pulled my phone out. I dismissed the (now 1:36PM) alarm with a quick swipe, and reached into my other pocket for the grey handkerchief I always carried.
Dabbed it across my face and neck, before shoving it back into the blazer, adjusted my tie, and stood
I began to make my way to my class. Walked past a sea of half-focused students. And Soo reached the front of the building.
The Moment I reached the front of the class, and my hand reached for the handle, my phone vibrated again.
It was a message from the school.
**'Attention students!**
**Reminder: Today's after-class cram and test session will be held in the main auditorium. Don't forget to attend!**
**See you there!'**
I read it twice before tucking my phone away and heading to my locker. Once there, I shoved the book and phone into my bag and pushed it deeper, then made my way outside.
The walk to the main auditorium was surprisingly crowded. A stream of students moved along the path, all headed in the same direction. I stayed near the edges, watching as small groups chattered nervously or pretended they weren’t about to sit through hours of academic torture.
Halfway there, my attention caught on Frankie. She stood a few feet away, laughing at something a guy had said. Blanche was there too, leaning against the railing, looking less amused, and one other girl. Frankie ran her fingers through the boy’s hair and giggled, completely oblivious to the handful of people watching.
I rolled my eyes and kept walking.
When I reached the auditorium, two lines of students snaked their way toward the entrance. I picked the shorter one as the line inched forward.
At the door, a stern-looking woman stopped me.
"Phone, watch, and jewelry," she said, motioning toward a small empty box on the table beside her.
I sighed, pulling off my necklace, earrings, and watch before dropping them in the box.
"Your phone?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.
"In my locker," I replied, meeting her glare with a raised brow. "I’m not dumb. I know I have a test."
She looked unconvinced but let me sign on the attendance ledger and write my name and signature also on a small white space on the cover of the box. She shut it and carefully kept it inside a bigger box along with other small boxes containing other people's belongings.
The next step was the temporary security scanner. I walked in, waited for the beep, and stepped out the other side without a word.
The auditorium was brightly lit, with rows of desks spaced at least five feet apart. Each desk had a computer, ready for the test. I found my assigned seat near the middle and settled in, brushing imaginary dust off the monitor while waiting for instructions.
The test was on U.S. history—a topic I liked enough not to panic over, you always want to know about your ancestors, people who fucked the country over, and how they did, plus my mother never let me breath until I finished reading at least ten to twenty pages from the 800+ pages book written by Mark C. Carnes and John A. Garraty; **The American Nation.**
The timer started, and I dove in, letting muscle memory take over for the first few questions. The computer screen glowed softly as I read each prompt, selecting answers with very quick clicks. Multiple-choice, fill-in-the-blank, short answer.
By the time I hit the last question, I’d started to feel the strain of concentration. A headache was creeping in from staring at the screen for so long. When I finally clicked "Submit," the confirmation message flashed on the screen: **Test complete. Please remain seated until the break period is announced.**
I leaned back in the chair, stretching my neck and rolling my shoulders. Around me sighs of relief echoed as others finished their tests.
After a few minutes, one of the proctors announced a ten-minute break.
I walked outside to the courtyard, where most of the students had gathered. I didn’t bother mingling. Instead, I decided to walk off fatigue, and the faint pain creeping up my back.
When the break ended, we all shuffled back into the auditorium for the cram session. This part wasn’t just about sitting and taking notes, it was more interactive, which I could appreciate on some level, even if it wasn’t my favorite way to spend an afternoon, or even anyone's.
The session started with a quiz round. Questions flashed on the projector, and we had small hand-held devices to buzz in answers. It was like a game show, except instead of prizes, you got either pride or shame, depending on how quickly you answered.
After that came the experiment-based learning portion. Groups of students were tasked with solving problems, which we then presented to the proctors. My group wasn’t awful, so at least I didn’t have to carry the whole thing.
The last part was thirty minutes of quiet study. Everyone sat at their desks, pretending to read or highlight notes. Honestly, I spent most of that time staring at one word, thinking about how much better my day would be if I were anywhere else.
Finally, at 4 PM, one of the proctors stood at the front and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
"That’s it for today," she announced. "Your test results will be emailed to you and your parents. Please make sure your contact information is up to date with the front office. You’re dismissed, Have a good night and be careful on your way home."
The collective sigh of relief in the room was almost comical. People started gathering around, stretching, and chatting about the tests as they filed out of the auditorium.
Each person took a second or two to take out his or her belongings from their own box and leave. When it was my turn I slipped on my jewelry from the box, and headed out the door.
But someone, somewhere, somehow had to get on the last nerve I had.