"You seem bothered, Ezie,” my sister said, ignoring Adam as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. I glanced at him before trying to open my locker again. Add this to the list of things someone can do better than you, I thought.
“I’m fine,” I told her. “Shouldn’t you be getting to class soon? I don’t think Dad would appreciate hearing you were late for kissing.”
Evelyn stood closer to her boyfriend. “And Dad wouldn’t like to learn you had an anxiety attack at school,” she answered, cooly. I couldn’t get my locker open, which was horrible, because all my pencils were in there. On top of it, I needed something to do in this class period; I’d be sitting next to Delcan.
“I’m not going to have an anxiety attack.”
Adam detached himself from my sister. “Let me get it,” he told me, trying to give me a look of reassurance as I stepped back. He opened my locker with ease, which pissed me off even more. Why should everyone else be good at this other than me? He reached into the small pocket in my locker, grabbing two pencils and a book. “Take a breather, dude. If you really need them, Thomas has some anxiety meds.”
I shook my head. “Not allowed to,” I said, not bothering to apologize for the anger in my tone. Ever since I was little, Dad had told us that relying on pills was pathetic, a weakness. He didn’t use them, Mom wasn’t allowed to use any type of supplement, and neither were their children. Eric’s taken Xanax before, but Mom and Dad didn’t find out until we were in Dallas at that point to meet family. Emmanuel should be on sleeping medication, but he isn’t. Mom’s never going to disagree with the man she married.
Evelyn smiled. “Because we follow the rules given to us,” she said. I checked the time on my phone - two more minutes until the tardy bell rang.
“See you at home,” I told her. Adam, who was still a few feet away from her, gave me a nod.
“Practice?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Studying.”
“You may begin,” Mrs. Cruise said, resting her hand on the desk I was sharing with Delcan. I quickly turned my paper over, glancing at the first sets of questions: review. Review on page one, vocabulary on pages two and three, historical background information she never talked about on-page five through six, and then constructed responses and open questions on seven and eight. Awesome.
“*,” I heard Delcan mutter next to me. Tune him out, I told myself. I didn’t want to, but I did, answering the first page in around five minutes. Sixty-two questions. If I only missed one on each page, Mrs. Cruise instructed, tapping a marker on the whiteboard. On it was time schedules for when and where we were supposed to be in certain parts of the test. Delcan, who wasn’t even five inches away, began biting his lip. Stop getting distracted, I heard voices scream in my head. Quickly, I turned myself away from my boyfriend, focusing on the questions of history.
Thankfully, Mrs. Cruise’s complex wording on her exams was something I was used to. She often made the words information none of us had ever heard of, but if you re-read things twice, it would begin to make sense.
I scooted my chair away from Delcan, who was silently cursing to himself about something. I flipped through the pages quickly, ignoring my uncontrollable hands. The first two pages were reviews from the two World Wars - simple questions that truly didn’t take too much information to do. The third one was fill in the blank questions that were about American struggles during the 1900s (30 terms), and then the fourth one was about issues in the twenty-first century that the world is dealing with (only 12 terms). The fifth and sixth pages were open responses about our personal opinions. Stupid, if you ask me, I thought to myself. It barely matters what we have to say. The last page was questioning about a history book we had read at the beginning of August, one that was terribly boring with very old English grammar.
Turning onto the third page, I noticed that there were only twenty more minutes in class. I need to hurry. But what if your answers are wrong? I thought to myself. Do you truly know the timeline of events through segregation in the 1960s? No, I don’t, and I can thank Dad for throwing away those notes and saying it was nonsense. Delcan, who had been chewing on his pencil for the past five minutes, finally wrote something down on the first page.
I should ask him if he needs help. It’s the right thing to do. After all, Mrs. Cruise often skims through the opinionated questions and gives people 100% on those. With fifteen minutes left in class, I could finish my work, but I don’t think Delcan would have time. Why would you help him? It’s already bad enough you gave so much attention to him instead of studying. Focus on the test. Dating comes last.
I scratched a mark on my arm I had found last night as Delcan turned to the second page. I quickly wrote down responses for her questions about the Holocaust and The Great Depression, all things that had an obvious answer to them. There were a few more concerning the future and probability of the United States, but it all seemed like too much to spend a lot of time on.
“Five minutes,” Mrs. Cruise called out. I heard her voice from the back of the classroom and turned quickly to see her sitting there, reading a novel. Finishing my last question, I watched as Delcan bit his lip and turned to the third page. There was no way he’d be able to finish all of this before the time ran out and the bell rang.
Setting my test next to me, I nudged him slightly. “Do you need help?” I asked. Delcan’s wide eyes met mine, eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. But when he shook his head, I felt my heart sink.
“You can’t help me, Ezra.”
“Why not?” I whispered back. I turned to see Mrs. Cruise checking her watch (a Rolex her “husband” bought her last Christmas). She wasn’t paying attention, and I don’t think I can handle hearing about him failing something when I could’ve helped. As I tapped my pencil, I continued to speak in a hushed tone. “Please let me. I’ll take the blame if we get caught.”
Smiling, Delcan shook his head. “No, you won’t. You’ll be an awkward, adorable person and you’ll freak out. I’m fine. No need to worry about anything like that.”
“It’s just a few-“
Before I could get my last few sentences out, I heard the sound of heels quickly clicking over to where I was sitting. No, I thought to myself. No, no, no, no, no. Please don’t do what I think you will. “Boys,” I heard Mrs. Cruise call out. Shockingly, the entire class’s eyes turned themselves to Delcan and I. “Is there an issue?”
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