Chapter 58: FINALS
I flipped through the paper in my hands, scanning the questions I had scribbled down for myself. My own little cheat sheet—not actual answers, but the things I knew I needed to go over one last time before the final exam. The last hurdle before I was finally, officially, done with this place.
Around me, the bleachers were full of seniors like me, either cramming last-minute notes or discussing potential questions in hushed voices. Some looked confident, laughing like they had it all in the bag, while others looked like they were one wrong answer away from a full mental breakdown.
Across the field, a group of juniors was being shooed away by a few seniors. They groaned and complained, dragging their feet as they grabbed their ball and stomped off. One of them shouted something about seniors being "privileged assholes" before kicking the ball extra hard into the fence. The seniors didn’t even bother to reprimand him. Probably too tired to deal with high school dramatics today.
I sighed and looked back at my notes, but my mind wandered. The trip to Eden was supposed to have happened by now. I was supposed to be packing, planning, already figuring out how to get whatever sight I would see once I got there. But Heather’s death put everything on hold.
It had been a week since they closed the case—at least, our school’s involvement in it. Some new division took over, searching for whatever distant relative Heather might have had, though everyone knew she came from an orphanage. The authorities had gone there, of course, but the place wanted nothing to do with her.
No surprises there.
Heather had been on the news more times than I could count, and not for anything good. A delinquent, a troublemaker, a nightmare walking in boots. No orphanage wanted to be associated with that, not when they had newer, younger kids to take care of and sponsors they didn’t want to scare off. No one was claiming her now.
So they buried her in a local cemetery.
The school, in their oh-so-generous nature, donated some money for the burial to show their 'condolences'. Condolences my ass. They were just happy to be washing their hands of the whole mess.
And just like that, it was over.
The case was wrapped up and shoved into a pile of unsolved cases, pinned on some random serial killer they had been hunting for months—years, even. Why? Because no one confessed, and because the way she died matched some of his previous kills. Slamming heads into walls. Brutal, and convenient for them.
The school moved on quickly after that.
Everyone did.
It was almost funny how easily people could forget. One second, the halls were filled with worries, with fear, with theories about who did it. And then finals crept up, and suddenly, no one had time to care anymore.
And now here we were.
Sitting on the bleachers, pretending we weren’t all one test away from either freedom or disaster.
I glanced back down at my notes, forcing myself to focus. Just one more exam. One more subject.
And then it would all be over.
Soon enough, the time came.
The moment everyone had been dreading and preparing for in equal measure.
The last exam.
We all filed into the exam halls, following the same grueling process we’d gone through for the beginning of the exam, the same as the one during the cram session. ID checks, security scans, phone collections—if anything, they were being even stricter this time. Maybe because it was the last paper, maybe because of what happened with Heather, or maybe just because the school loved to make us suffer, because schools usually aren't like this, right? Right?
I stood in line, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as the student in front of me handed over her, phones, books, smartwatch, rings, and necklace into a small, labeled box the same as last time, except bigger. Because for some reason the students decided to look hot for the forty minutes break we were given before the last paper.
My turn.
I dropped my book into the tray, and lifted my hands slightly when the guard gestured for me to walk through. The scanner gave a single, indifferent beep, and I was waved forward without a word.
Inside, the students were already settling in back on there seats.
Because of the number of seniors taking the finals, the school had split us up. Half were sitting for the exam in the main auditorium, while the rest of us were placed in the second one a little far from it. It didn’t matter much—both halls were set up the same way, rows of desks spaced apart, invigilators prowling like hawks ready to swoop down at the first sign of trouble, and more CCTVs.
I made my way to my seat, glancing around at the others. Some were frantically flipping through their brains, trying to burn equations and facts deeper in the final moments. Others sat still, eyes closed, breathing deeply like they were about to run a marathon.
I pulled out my pen and stared at the empty desk in front of me, willing myself to focus.
This was it.
The last exam.
One more hurdle, and I was done.
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120 minutes.
That was how long it took before we were finally let out of the auditorium, drained, stiff, and desperate for fresh air.
The moment the doors opened, the energy shifted.
Some students burst into loud chatter, already discussing the exam questions and comparing answers like their lives depended on it. Others—probably the ones who knew they’d bombed the exam—walked out in a daze, rubbing their faces and muttering to themselves about how they should’ve studied harder.
And then there were the ones like me.
Desperate to get to my car and giggle about the trip.
I stepped out, gripping my book in one hand, scanning the crowd. Papers were being thrown, some students tearing their notes into pieces like they were performing some dramatic ritual of freedom. Others clutched their sheets like lifelines, reading and rereading, probably regretting everything.
A guy near me let out a frustrated groan, tossing his paper onto the ground like it ha
d personally betrayed him.
I exhaled, shaking my head.
It was over.
Finally.